Wednesday, July 2, 2008


I grew up here. Lived my whole life here. Worked at this gas station; I learned to live like a man.

I learned that I loved trucks and four wheelers and dirt bikes. It was never hard to fit in, I was always hanging around boys when I was little- I wore blue jeans and refused to wear anything with lace- I let my hair grow in wild blonde locks and I was a tom-boy through and through.

When I began school I was the only girl who played kickball and baseball and liked getting dirty at recess. Later I was the only girl who rushed home from school to the gas station to work.

It was there I learned about engines and cars- trucks especially- I got my first truck when I was two months short of turning fourteen and by the time I was 15 learned the inner workings of it down to every little detail. As a pre-teenager I pumped gas and changed tires and did oil changes when it got real over-booked at the garage.

Mieshka was one of my closest friends and he was the first to show me the ropes. He had a thickly Americanized European accent and was about 13 years older than I. He closely acted as surrogate Uncle to me and told me with such strong and slender small hands that I made a better mechanic on my 81 Toyota pickup than anyone else in the town.

Out-of-towners would at first doubt my ability to be a mechanic but I proved myself more than able by working my ass off just as hard as any of the other guys at the shop.

On my 15th birthday my buddies Shayne and Tommy surprised the hell out of me with a rebuilt Honda four wheeler they bought from a police auction down in Terrysville and handed me the key with gritty mechanic boy grins…

Sunday, January 20, 2008

You Fell on Your Kitchen Floor and Escaped Death #2

I laughed as I imagined you weak. Your pathetic self twitching and whining on your kitchen floor. Then I saw you in mind, wasting away with some strange disease. You were venerable, with blanched skin and raised mounds of purple and blue covering your body. You gasped for breath on the hospital bed, the needles injecting Satan-knows-what into your wavering existence. And I laughed because if it were true, you deserved all of that and more.

You used to tell me I was the weak one and you, the strong. I would always be sick and pale, with cold hands wrapped around your untouchable immune system. You would hold me.

Then I heard. The strong man! The untouchable, vibrant, perfect immune man! He was down! Fell like a tower or cards in the wind. He fainted like the weak yellow-skinned boy he had always been on the inside.

And I laughed because I had really been the strong one. I had endured while he fell to the vicious buyer of souls. I laughed because it was ironic, and I laughed because it rang true.

Thursday, December 20, 2007

Cold Book Ch1

It had been two years since it happened. Not on a day
much different from this one she thought, while gazing
out the study window. She continued to stare out
beyond, the backyard. The never-ending green of the
maze was masked by that of the heavy rain. Rumbling
thunder, followed split second lightning as the rain
continued to fall down to the warm earth. Ginn's mind
wandered as the dreaded day slowly came to be a sharp
memory. Lightning this time brighter than ever flashed
across the entire outside, she lacked the awareness
that it was now beginning to rain in her window as she
sat before it, the rain beginning to lightly spatter
upon typed papers and chicken -scratch notebooks only
readable to herself. Loud cracks and rumbles followed
yet another lightning flash and Ginn found her vision
fixed upon the graveyard. The sound of the wind and
thunder traveled through Ginn's mind and reality
became past- and past became reality.

Ginn's eyes seemed to close and yet they hadn't- her
vision was that of blurred rain. She couldn't feel the
tickling raindrops that would droplet on her face and
neck and bare arms. She neither saw the lightning nor
felt the power of the thunder as the lamp over her
computer desk began to dim and finally died out, along
with the rest of the electricity throughout the

Kitt had felt the thunder and had seen the lightning
bolt that struck a telephone pole about 1000 meters
down the road. She could see far out from her tower
bedroom and had watched the whole incident as it fell
over almost totaling a car that had been parked
alongside the curb, she watched in amazement as the
wires were tossed about with unknown force and the
clock radio in her room turned off and on until it
finally laid to rest with a blank digital screen.

"Wow!" Kitt shreiked, amazed, a huge smile stretched
across her face and she stood from the window seat.
She had also been watching the rain and listening,
like Ginn. She had been hoping since the beginning of
the storm that the there would be a power-out.Kitt
walked over to the other window and gazed to the other
tower parallel to her own. Ginn wasn't in there, that
she could see, but Kitt knew she was home to have seen
the lightning. Suddenly the old fashioned door bell
rang- it made Kitt jump...

Ginn hadn't moved for twenty minutes, her papers were
soaked, and her mind was still elsewhere. Long years,
she thought- endlessley did her mind drift until she
was startled by an out of place thump. It made Ginn
jump although it hadn't scared her, it was just the
startling pull back into reality. She knew what it
was, Kitt in the old-dumb-waiter. Ginn smiled as it
reminded her of happy days, back when she first came
to Kate's Mansion, and had first met Kitt, the cute
little rugrat rascal who had an uncanny knack to be
able to travel with impossible speed from one side of
the mansion to the other.

Memories came of how her grandmother was so warm and
giving compared to that of Ginn's former foster homes
and adopters. It had been almost hard to accept Kate,
because she was so loving, love was almost a whole
other world, as she had been deprived of it for so
long. It had taken Ginn so many years for her to come
to realize how hard it must have been to get Ginn to
let go of all the anger she had built up for the past
seven years. But Kate had never lost her patience or
love for Ginn, so in a way Kate helped Ginn
unknowingly filter out all her anger and shape her
into the stable person she is now, independent, yet
compassionate and understanding and quiet.

Ginn smiled at the memories like the time Kitt had
come up to Ginn and pulled her pant leg and looking up
at her with the cutest smile saying:

"you know who I am?"

"you must be Kitt" Ginn said with a lack of emotion.

"yup, but y'know who I am?" grinning.

"No, who are you?"

"I'm your Aunt!" Kitt giggled for quite some time
after that remark and began to laugh and run around
the kitchen- she grasped a hold of Kate's leg and
"Aren't I Kate?"

"Yes Kitt, in a way you are."

"Yippee!!!" Kit squealed and ran off.

Ginn had been a little confused at that point, but
after Kate explained that since she was Ginn's
grandmother and Kate had adopted Kitt that in a weird
sense, Kitt was Ginn's Aunt.

Now, though, since Kate had passed away, Ginn had
adopted Kitt, so that she was her legal guardian since
she was only 16. It had not been an easy process and
not without it's legal wish-wash, but finally all was
OK, and they began to live their lives again. Ginn and
her job with the magazine, and her writing, and Kitt
with her singing. Kitt had dropped out of school and
was taking a home course(to Ginn's disapproval but
permission) and things were going pretty good.

Monday, November 26, 2007

Views on Life by Dexteran, Mage of the Altoids

This is a story. A story about life. (Hey, I didn't say that it would be a good story, now did I?) All right, back to me - my story that is. Now, the funny thing about my story is that to anybody who has no clue what I'm talking about, then this story will make no sense to you. But for all the rest of you losers who actually know this story, well, I guess you'll have a rough idea of what I'm trying to say.

Now, as I remembered, It started a long time ago in a galaxy far far oasis... NO! NO! NO! Wrong story! Now, back to my story. LIFE IS A SQUEAKY RUG. No wait. Change that. LIFE IS FULL OF JANITORS WHO...No. That's not right either. LIFE STARTED A LONG TIME AGO IN A GALAXY FAR FAR OASIS WHERE LUKE AND LEIA WERE COOKING PEAS WITH A LIGHTSAVER. YES, YOU SEE THEY DO THAT EVERY SUNDAY BEFORE WE GO TO THE CHURCH OF HIGHER FORCE-DOM.

No wait! Why do you let me get distracted like that?! Now, back to my deeply emotional life speech. Or was it a light speech. Ok. It's light. That means I have to be done by now because this is getting too heavy. Bu bye.

Tnis isn't a story. A story about LIFE CEREAL. You see, I eat it every morning before I go make my Altoids. Life is a compromise you know. We all have to make them so little people like Kitt and Jewel and...

Oh. Kitt and Jewel say, "We're not little!" Now. Hey! Give back my spell book. Kitt, Kitt, No. NO! Ooops! I was writing that wasn't I? I'm very sorry. I was supposed to be saying that. Anyway, I'm continue my documentation after I get my book back.

Now, what was I talking about when I last left? Ah yes! Light bulbs. I like them because they are hot and they cook my pancakes every time I turn them on. They're different colors and they smell like burning Altoid juice.

I believe that LIGHTBULBS SAVE LIVES. IF I WAS A LIGHTBULB, I'D JOIN THE NAVY! Now the lightbulbs that I saw one day at Marin's house, now they were nifty. In fact they were swell and yummy. You see they were like dancing all around in candle holders and they gave off smoke and all different colors! But they weren't candles! Wow!


I STARTED OUT TALKING ABOUT LIFE! Why didn't you say something when I was rambling on about all that stuff up there! I hate you. I'm never writing to U again. U stink! I hate you more than I hate some one called Sen Lor Oooballoooo. He is so bad that my altoids curl just thinking about it!


There I floam again! Off way talking about my bologna. OH MY GOD! (My Frank to be specific) I forgot to tell you about my life story. Ok, here it is:

I was born to an altoid bush of western virginia in the early -875753667 century BC. My mommy was an evil reeple who wanted to take over the DARK SIDE and make it all darker and my daddy was a fireman. I went to school at Harvard for pre-school and then went on to study with the great Raistlin. He's my hero. (Along with Mr. Waldo, Jen the cow, and ADAM) After that, I created life, earth, and the heavens nd then I decided to take a break and drink with my best friend Egg-Yolkio, a boy made out of egg yolks. (Unfortunately, I was oophobic (afraid of eggs) at the time, so we had an odd bi-sexual kind of relationship.) (But that's another story altogether.) Now, after Egg-Yolkio got put into an egg salad sandwich, I ran away to Oz where the wizard made me wear all green. Puke green to be specific, greenb to be unspacific. After I wore plaid one day though, I was kicked out of the efficial "I LOve GReen on EVery DAy CLub" and Oz. So then I went to the Cai Tower and learned some more stuff with the Great Franko before flying over the world in a boat made of tinfoil, spanish moss, and yellow pudding. After I crashed into Mars and blew it up, I ran around with amnesia thinking I was Anne Landers. After that little mix up I had an altoid overdose with my friend Becky and we got married in her loft. That was when I lost my virginity. Anyway, when we woke up, I didn't know her and she didn't know me. But a year later I received a baby in the mail. I loved it and called it Imadeabooboo. Unfortunately it ate a map altoid and blew up in the next five seconds. After that I went into depression and I started going to sock puppet therapy with my new best friend, Bologna the Dinosaur that I made up myself. He advised me to be all yum-dum-doodle-dum-inside and so I was. I visited my mom, now the evil empurress of all the known universe and she advised me not to come back or else she would blow me up. But I stole her lightsaver anyway and I now use it to further my exploration of spider webs that look really cool in freaky houses. I then visited my daddy's grave. I was sad because he was my favorite daddy of all the 254 daddies I had had. Let's see. There was the mage, the knight, the executive, the salesman, and my worst favorite, the insurance guy. (He was always getting me to buy car insurance when I didn't have a car. Unless Fiz lets me borrow his Fizban Mobile but he won't cause the last time I drove it I flew into New York and made a couple hundred buildings fall into the red sea. After that I decided I needed some Altoids, so I rented a bush and made my first ones that great day in Spring, or was it winter. I can't remember.

To conclue my speech, I would just like to comment on O-At's hair today. It's very much like a bird's nest in that it has all of this straggley stuff and feathers and stuuuuuf. Enough of this madness. Now. Pizza is yummy with Altoids, pineapple Marshmallow.

"REEP." "REEP" "REEEEEEEPEPEEEEEEEPEEEEEEEPEEEEEEEEEP" says Marshmallow. Anyway, back to my conclusion.

I believe in freedom for real cows and imprisonment for the smoking cows that infect our community of pigs. I think that all jello should be under law as a drug and altoids should be made legal a ginn. I think falkes are yucky, I think shredded wheat is yucky. Hell, even those gordo tonto soft and mushy things are yucky. Life is the only cereal for me! Even though revenge is a dish best served cold, and I eat desert first, I believe that dinner should occur between the hours of four and % in the noon.

That's all I hve to say about that.

But if you want to learn more about life, consult my story about life. Wait! That's this story! Never mind. Don't consult squit because he'll give you mucho malo info. No entiendo con tortuga en el bano de la espana. El bano es sucio. Necsito un gordo tonto gato para limpiar el bano de la tortuga escuela. Consult turtle. He won't know what the hell you're saying and that makes it all much easier. Tell him Dexteran sent you. He'll remember that night we got together with Doug and Ken, Jay, and S Kennedy. Yeah!!!! That was the best time I had in my life when we died and were all reincarnated but then Frank recognized me and he turned us all back into ourselves but we still had that memory of the glorious night.....

I would like to tell you that you are my best pals in the u od all u-i-ness. Don't be oophobic because life is just an altoid, it makes you hyper, then sad, then you realized after you're done that it was fun, you're reincarnated and you can experience it all over again. Remember that I've been trying to tell you all along, but would you listen? No!

Sunday, November 25, 2007

Partners in Crime

There, by the skin. Is that blood I say and She replies yes. I asked her why and She said it was what she deserved. I agreed but not wholly. In my mind everyone was such a hypocrite and I was insane. She was only my friend and partner in crime. She was always there for me, through bad, good, and bloody times. This was a bloody time when all we did was skip school and get into fights. It was a good life I thought as I looked into the bloody sink. A good time too. There were so many bitches out there who were asking for a beat down and we were the girls who were willing to give it. I suppose Jay deserved it the most but the bastard was slippery. Every time we had him cornered some bigger guy would come up and stop us. At least Aimee got what was coming to her.

Yeah. Her blood was being washed away from the fists of my friend in my upstairs bathroom sink in my house. I bruised and She was bleeding at the lip but other than that we were fine. Aimee, poor little slut whore. She should have shut up when she had the chance. Steal my boyfriend and call me a bitch; never! Now she was just an ugly scarred up girl like the rest of them.

She sat on the toilet and lit a cigarrette. She had a headache and a stomach ache and kept complaining about pregnancy. Not that She was pregnant, She just wishes She was. Sometimes I think we both live in a fantasy world, but then again wasn't that blood in the skin as real as you or me? I thought it was real. I didn't bother to wash it away because it was such a pain. You had to scrub a little and I didn't want to scrub.

Jay's a bastard, I said to her. She nodded and blew out smoke. We were a sight us two. Bruised, battered, and beautiful. Jays gonna get beat, She said after a moment of thought. I nodded, but didn't smoke. I didn't need to, I didn't want to. He's been following you lately hasn't he She asked. I said yes because he had. It was annoying. The kid had hair like he'd screwed a weedwacker the night before and then dipped his head in grease in the morning. Plus he wore a huge necklace with big sunglasses and big jeans. Everything was big with him... It made me sick.

He needs an add-a-dick-ta-me She said as if reading my scowl. I smiled for the first time all day. After a moment I laughed. Then I turned back to the blood in the sink. Bitch whore Aimee's blood. I turned on the water and began to clean the sink; I felt like scrubbing now.

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Vera and the Brook House

The brook house wasn't old or special in any obvious way It was built just a few years before Vera was born by a fine young couple looking to start a family away from the harsh squeal and fast lights of a city not more than three hours south. They nestled it in a wooded valley where the mountain creek slowed on its tireless journey to Straight Line Pond, which was only a few miles down the road. The location was quiet, but not as far from civilization as mountainside plots. The young couple might have been very happy there, but they did not choose to stay and disappeared into unimportance.

Theda Bly just happened to stumble upon it fatefully, and being only eighteen and very girly at the time, dubbed it the Brook House with a crudely woodburnt sign outside the door.

She was a sullen looking girl with and energetic heart. Her thin straight strands of sepia hair hung dead at her cheeks with long mod bangs half over grey white eyes. She lusted to paint and to sculpt and to tell her story in fine fabric dresses of her own design. Brook House and its landscape was to be her divine inspiration - the purity and beauty of nature sewn into every stich would certainly put her at the head of city soaked designers everywhere.

For weeks she lay in the grass, watching the gentle sway of the trees, listening to the fall of water over rocks, feeling the ants crawl across her long white fingers. She absorbed in this manner until the sun went down each day. Then, after the last sliver of red and orange had disappeared behind the mountain, Theda would retreat to the Brook House to sketch.

Sometimes her drawing would take her long into the night. Others she would throw her black stemmed pencils out the window and pace angrily about the house, talking to the spirits of imagination, only to retrieve her tools the next morning with a refreshed eye.

In the rain she would stand in the rain. In the heat she would sit in the stream. And every night she would work until her hands ached. She would go to the farmer's market on Sunday to pick up all she needed for the week and on Friday she did makeovers at the local beauty shop for girls just a few years older than she, who would go down to the city for a wild night or two.

Theda felt that she'd like to go sometime when she was old enough and making more money. She was not at all jealous, but that energetic heart wanted someday to try out its dancing rhythm.

"Theda, I wish I could be dedicated like you," complained Paris as she batted the expertly glued blue glitter lashes. "I'm just hoping to get lucky with a born rich college man."

"Can't trust it to luck, my dear, " said Sisley. "I just sent away for a correspondence wedding planner certificate. In six to eight months, I'll be living on my own means."

Theda smiled and changed the direction of the conversation. She hated to brag, but oh what a good thing she would have.

And certainly, as one would imagine, the sketches began to pile up in the modest little Brook House. Theda pinned her favorites on the ceiling over her bed, hoping they would send her more ideas as she slept. She knew that when winter came, she would begin to sew. She had plenty to do - she had to have at least one hundred favorite sketches. And as weeks past and the goal felt closer than ever, Theda's pencil throwing nights became more frequent.

"I can't burn out now!" she would sob to the spirits. "I'm too close!"

On one potentially turbulent night she happened to break the pencil tip on an already mischievous design. Furious, she chucked it at the open window and nearly fell over her chair when it produced a yelp and a curse in place of the regular quiet thump on the grass.

Theda held her breath and steadied herself on her desk. She had never had an unannounced visitor at Brook House before. She was weaponless, lacking strength, and unsure as how to proceed. After a moment of silence, she crept on hands and knes to the window and slowly brought her eyes above the sill.

She saw nothing but darkness.

Sighing slightly, she slid down the wall and clutched her knees between her arms.

THUD THUD THUD! Three swift knocks by a large fist at the door. Theda covered her mouth with one hand. Murderers with chainsaws and switchblades! Big hairy mountain men! Hungry bears! Anything could lay behind the door.

"Just looking for a room for the night, Inn keep!"

It was a gruff, deep voice.

"I have your pen."

Reluctantly, Freda stood and approached the door. "This is no inn, sir," she said in her most fearless tone. "Just an artist's studio."

"I see," replied the man. "Couldn't you even spare a spot on your couch? I've been lost all afternoon in the mountains and I'm too tired to get home tonight."

"What would you pay?" Theda asked, thinking of the nice ribbon she could buy with some extra money.

"I have fifty dollars," the man said. "I'm desperate - I'll give you all of it!"

It was more than Theda had expected. She pushed down her fear and opened the door. The man fit the voice. He was tall, burly, and bearded in an old black sweatshirt, blue jeans, and boots. He had a long barrel gun in one hand and a backpack in the other. Theda glared up at him, a white rabbit playing the part of a tigress. She held out one hand expectantly, but he just strode past her to the couch and collapsed there. Theda closed the door and leaned against it.

"The fifty?" she snapped.

He leaned down and rumaged through his backpack, finally pulling out two crisp twenties and a wrinkled ten. His eyes lingeredon her as she snatched up the cash.

"I'm going to bed," she said. "Best for you to do the same." And with that, she whipped around and started up the stairs.


She froze on the third step, heart beating madly. "Yes," she managed to say.

"I have your pencil." He walked to her and placed it gingerly behind her ear, smiling slightly. Freda merely scowled at him and stomped upstairs where she scampered into the safety of her room and its door lock. She fell backwards onto the plain black and grey quilt and stared at her sketches. The tears came shortly after. Though she had nothing of value to be robbed of, she feared for her life. "I am worth more than fifty," Theda whispered on the brink of sleep."

Late that night the man awoke, hungry. He took off his boots and shirt in the dark and groped his way to the stairs, taking them two at a time to the top. At Theda's door he saw the flicker of a candle from around the edges. Kneeling, he produced a paper clip from his pocket and bent it straight. Holding it in the tiny lock release hole, he hesitated a moment, licked his lips, and wiped his brow and beard. Then, with one swift thrust, the lock popped and he entered the bedroom.

Very Bly was born ten months later.


Signs of grey wanter by the brook of her first place. Silence of waterfalls flow about her face. And the power in black always left her in awe, among other rarities of the world that she saw. But her bangs hid the mark of a blue crescent moon. The memory - her memory would die with it soon. For she recalled only lightly as she stood near the stream, the life she once led - it felt now like a dream.

She gazed downward to catch her reflection, slowly retreating to introspection. Skin hung loose on her brown spotted fingers. Though her waves were grey, some black streaks lingered. And her body bent over like a tired vine; partly by age, mostly from mind. The red velvet dress with black buttons and lace had slowly been worked down into disgrace.

She put her hand back and sat on a stone, looked back and forth to make sure she was alone. And slowly she pulled a chain from her pocket, found the round charm, and pried open the locket. The picture inside from years ago - oh the memories it brought of that life she used to know. That one day life turned - and though many lives have such a day, hers seemed to her unique in so many ways....