Follow by Email

Sunday, July 31, 2011

Story time from Uncle Holden

Once, not long ago, in the far off distant galaxy of Goltron, there was...I'm sorry to say it...nothing. Nothing at all. For once, there actually was nothing where there should've been, preventing a story from taking place that would've been quirky, yet informative, provocative, yet restrained. So you can take all the information you know about Goltron, namely, that it was a far off distant galaxy, and dump it down the garbage disposal. Dump it. Do it. Now.

However, there was something incredibly quirky happening here on Earth. It was the year 1993 A.D. There was a great civil war going on in a distant country, which we shall name "Country X." This war had cost "Country X" billions of dollars and thousands of innocent lives. The quirkiest part of it all? There was a border security guard, and every single person that came across the state line (since everybody wanted to come join in on the civil war), this border security guard would look at them with a serious look, and say, in his extremely deep manly voice, "Welcome to paradise baby." And then the people, whether on foot or in a family minivan, would look confused. And then at some point, they would get it. "Ha ha ha!" they would laugh. "It's not paradise! It's completely the opposite!" "Yeah, well, see ya," said the border guard, whose name was Billy, and then, more often than not, he would laugh to himself as they drove away. "I love saying that," he said to himself, except not really, since there was another guy working the station too. "You've said that over 50 times today," said his partner, Milford. "It's not funny anymore. In fact, it wasn't even funny the first time." "Yeah, well, shut up," said Billy.

"Hey, how's it going guys?" said the border security supervisor, poking his head in to check on his employees. His name was also Billy.

"Just another day in paradise," said the first Billy.

"What does that EVEN MEAN?!" cried Milford.

"Well you see," said Billy. "It's irony. This place we're in, this "Country X", could not be any less of a paradise, you see? It's funny."

"So what you're saying," said the other Billy. "is that it's funny because this place, this terrible place, this 'war torn nation,' this 'war zone,' this 'Country X' as you call it, is actually the opposite of what you say it is."

"Yes!" said Billy. "Now you're catching on!"

"Excellent!" cried Milford, and he raised his hand to high five the first Billy. Billy also consented to this particular high-five. But Billy didn't know his own strength. His hand tore right through Milford's hand, and right through his face. He pulled his hand out, upon which Milford's brain was impaled.

"Oh my," said Billy, realizing his mistake. "What have I done?!"

Milford's eyes were wide with shock and horror, and then he began to scream, and then everyone realized, a second too late, that because his brain had been torn out through his face that his eyes weren't there either, so it was anatomically impossible for his eyes to be open wide with shock and horror, when they actually weren't there.

Thus ended the days of Milford, who had spent much of his life partying, drinking, and living the "good life," but found his life cut tragically short on that one tragic day in "Country X." Things were never the same around the station after that. Billy spent his time quietly talking to himself, trying to lighten his own mood with more "paradise" jokes. The other Billy spent his time walking around the base with his head down, and that look of tragedy and sadness in his eyes. It was said that the death of Milford left a very huge void in his soul.

A very huge void indeed.




                                                           The Depressing End


Discussion questions, to be discussed as a loving family unit:

1) Why?
2) Why?
3) FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING, WHY?

Sunday, July 10, 2011

The Boxcar Children: Episode V: A Time To Kill

I just registered a google+ account, but I don't know what it does.

I don't have internet to mooch off of at my house anymore, so I don't get online a whole lot. Hence the lack of blogs. It's weird being detached from the web, the vast knowledge filled world of the web.

I decided I hate my job, it's boring, and I'm sick of loud annoying stinky children. And every morning that I wake up, my hands hurt, from constantly being flexed while holding onto ropes at work.

I think I'll name my firstborn son Astronomicus. What are you going to name your son? Bill? Martin? Jimmy? They all sound pretty lame.