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[WP] A genie is accidentally released when a cat rubs up against its lamp. Compelled to grant their 3 wishes, The genie starts losing their mind trying to figure out what the cat wants.
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The cat wandered in again, as it has for the last few nights. It was the same one. Fat, and brown and grey with spots of black and cleft lip. We'd started calling him Haremaw to play, but the grown ups took that up soon themselves and they said that with reverence. We scowled at the thing and gave it a bit of dried fish in hopes it would go away.
Cats, grandfather said, were not to be trusted. They were kin to the genie and those devils were enemies of men. Life was too frail to tolerate what we could not trust, he said.
A long time ago we had magic and genies and curiosities nearly boundless, and we destroyed them as men do. But you cannot destroy a genie or its lamp, its home and cage and place of power. So while everything crumbled to dust the lamps remained in the ruins, untouched.
One day, the cat wandered into the ruin as cats do, and it found the lamp. It rubbed its side across it in passing once, twice, and three times to ease itself. And the genie sprang forth.
In a formless mist, the genie hovered above the cat. Genies are vain and and wish to be held in awe. The cat just stared.
You have summoned me, creature, state your first wish. You shall have three, as is your due. But the cat did not speak. It stared with great grey eyes.
Animal filth, cried the genie, you will say your wish or you will have nothing at all. The cat rubbed its head across the lamp to scratching some itch, and the genie understood. The cat wished for scratches, and so the genie gave himself hands, and arms to move them and to scratch the cat. Your first wish is granted, said the genie.
But when the genie moved to scratch the cat it swiped at him and the genie pulled away. Awful creature, said the prideful genie, base animal, you know not what you want. State it twice more and be gone from me. The cat only watched again with great grey eyes.
It walked some distance away and rubbed its side across a bit of rubble and again the genie understood. He gave himself legs for the cat to rub against, and a chest to connect them to its arms and only his head was still mist. At this the cat stalked closer again, still staring.
Finally, the genie understood. With the cats third wish he made himself flesh, and he scratched the cats head and the cat rubbed its body against his legs and the cat padded away. It looked back only once. The genie was as man and he picked up his lamp and he followed the cat from the ruin.
Grandfather said the genie still follows the cat, and so trouble always comes in their wake and those who take to them are not to be believed. Haremaw left them again, with knots in their bellies. Who could tell what would follow.
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**LISTEN WELL, YOUNGLINGS! THIS IS THE STORY OF HOW OUR ETERNAL EMPEROR MR.FUZZYBOTTOM CAME TO BE!**
Few may remember that our emperor was once a mere house cat. Yes, I understand how ridiculous this sounds that our emperor, the eternal enslaver of worlds, was once a weakling like us.
It started as a normal day for him when his owner, an elderly woman named Matilda, left to go get some groceries. He was doing as cats would do and was knocking things off of tables with no apparent reason until he wandered into the storage room. It is here that he came across something amazing. Though he didnt know it at the time he was about to come across power untold. He was wandering among the boxes when he rubbed against a very dusty but otherwise normal lamp.
Well, this is where the story gets a little fuzzy and no one quite knows what happened next. All we know is that a magical being called a genie came from that lantern. Now imagine what confusion he must have had when he saw a cat sitting there ready for whatever might happen. Since he is a genie of course he must grant whatever wishes that his summoner wishes, even if its a cat. So very awkwardly he asks fuzzybottoms what his first wish is. Figuring it wont work he begins to return to his lamp when he hears a faint *meow*. Turning back to the cat he hears another *meow*. He didnt knew what this meant but he granted it either way. Then fuzzybottoms started growing the the magnificence you witness nowadays. Then he hears another *meow* and fuzzybottoms starts speaking in perfect english. What he says next would be remembered to this day.
**I am king here now. For my last wish I request immortality. You can leave now as I have no further use for some weak djinn.**
Well, at that point we couldnt do much to stall him and he took his place as king of the universe progressively over about a 1000 years. Now what is the moral of our story kids?
That we can succeed no matter how low we are?
**WHERE DID YOU GET THAT IDEA FROM YOU IDIOT?!?** Of course not our moral is that to get anywhere in life you have to be get there from luck and you'll probably never accomplish anything in your puny existence.
^^^o-o-o-okay ^^^dont ^^^hurt ^^^me
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[WP] You are a time traveler who can only travel forwards in time.
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#I just want to go home.
I've been here for days. Dad told me before my 18th, that on my 18th I would be able to travel forward in time. He said I should stop when I find my soulmate, but didn't explain much after that, or at least, I wasn't listening.
I was daydreaming.
On my birthday, he gave me his watch. it was battered and old, there was a dent in one side and the face scratched to hell.
he told me the button would let me jump forward, seconds equalling days. longer times had a trick to them.
Before I could press it, he took me to a small office in Loon st, and introduced me to Travel Ink, an organisation for time travellers. Basically you get your documentation sorted there when you jump. They recommend jumping from there or at least visiting first and planning ahead. They're somehow set up to be there until the end of time. some kind of magnets and ... look I didn't really understand it.
So, I wasn't really ready to jump.
I was only 18.
I think Dad was disappointed but Mom, she was pretty happy. I was her favorite, my adopted sister was a Daddys girl.
It wasn't until I was 21 and had studied a philosophy degree that I decided to jump.
I had itchy feet, we were a close family and travelled together a lot, I'd seen enough of the world.
So, I arranged things. I said goodbye to Mom, Daddy, Little Sister..
and I jumped.
I went forward a month first.. I was nervous okay?
I had lunch with Mom, then jumped forward 3 years. I was so nervous.
Mom had a new forehead wrinkle, Dad looked chuffed to see me. Little Sis and I had a skype call. She was studying in Germany. She'd grown up so much.
I decided to be brave. I went forward 5 years. I called Mom, called Dad. they were doing okay. Mom had a dog, Dad was starting a new business developing some app.
I went over to Brasil and Japan, just to see how they'd fared after the earthquakes in 2020.
I met up with my sister, "Susan, not Suzy" in Tokyo and she was a bonafide grownup. She was 24 now, and had grown her hair right out. She introduced me to her girlfriend and begged me not to tell Dad - she wasn't ready yet.
I jumped forward 10 years.
Susan had married, a petit canadian with tattoos and a mouth like a sailor eho was best friends with my mom. They'd adopted twins from India, cute little 6 year olds that climbed all over me and called me Auntie.
Mom had a limp, Dad was thinking about retiring.
I wasn't ready to say goodbye to them yet, even though in my heart I needed to go further forward, past their time.
Dad tried to push me, but I was just... I was still 21 and they were all getting older, my baby sister was my older sister. She had a career - I had a plain black credit card, a chip in my fingertip and just this overriding fear of letting go. I stayed 6 months with my family, until My mom sat me down for a heart to heart.
Told me how scared she'd been to accept my Dad, when he told her the truth, and how she wouldn't change a thing. She told me she wanted me to go.
I cried, she held me, and I knew it was time.
I went forward, gulp, 50 years. it was terrifying. I was shaking, knowing I would never see them again.
Travel Inks current reception helped me locate the graves, and offered to put me in contact with any relatives I wished.
I visited Susans, Moms, Dads graves.
It was hard, all this time passed and I hadn't done much. I didn't really know where I was going or doing. I just... I don't know. I drifted aimlessly for a long time.
Jumping forward in sporadic increments, Until even the twins grandchildren were dead. I lost touch with Travel Ink for a while. I stayed in Norway, travelled Asia, taught english in Korea, rode donkeys in deserts and camels along beaches.
One day, I decided to jump again. I was bored. it was 2235. I'd been wandering around with no purpose, watching wars and sports and politics through the ages.
I jumped forwards to 3127.
and... there's not many people here. I'm not sure what's wrong. The people I've met seem sickly, there's noone manning Travel Ink.
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Jerry took a deep breathe. The machine was fully functional. Years of isolated work, theories and rebuilds and the day was finally here. He took out the photograph from his coat pocket. He stared at the picture of him and Anna. Anna his angel, the one that had slipped through his fingers. The thought of how he could fix things always lingered in the back of his mind. The machine had driven them further and further apart but he was getting so close, he could never abandon the project. He entered the machine.
“Set time: one year from now,” he commanded.
Still in the same garage, same house, same street. The house was empty just as he had left it. He hurried to the newspaper box at the end of the street. The newspaper read the same day, one year later. Jerry ran back to the garage.
“I need to go further. Set date 5 years from now.”
The smoke dissipated as he stumped out of the garage, the sun shining against his face. New model cars whizzed by. He opened his phone. Able to access his old wi-fi he noted winning lottery ticket numbers and world series champs.
His fingers froze over the keys for a split second but then, almost automatically, they keyed in Anna’s name. No, his mouth formed the word but no sound came out. Anna’s obituary.
Jerry ran back inside.
“Set time. 6 years back.”
The date blinked on the display but the machine remained quiet. Jerry ran through diagnostics several times; all checked out. He set the date at different intervals in the past; none worked.
“Set time: two days from now.”
The machine whirled to life.
“Set time: one day from now.”
Again the machine worked.
He frantically entered old dates but none registered. He ran through diagnostics again and again. Collapsing on the floor Jerry grabbed his coat's breast-pocket. A tear rolled down the glossy paper.
----
r/SerializedFiction
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[WP] You live in a world where the concept of "theft" is not known. There are no security measurements, no locks, no passwords and leaving your belongings in the open is normal. You just realized you can take someone elses money as the first human ever.
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We all stood there, admiring the dagger with our hands pressed up against the glass. Laying in the silk below our nostrils, it gleamed against the sparse light that broke through our huddled bodies.
James pushed out his arms and forced us into stepping back as he grabbed the case and pried it open.
*"Hey, we're not supposed to do that..."* Cautioned Phoebe, who brushed against my shoulder as she looked on nervously. *"They said touching it could break it."*
*"Hey, I want to take a closer look. That's all."* James whispered, leaning in to run his fingers across the ancient steel. Many of us came forward out of intrigue as well, and soon everyone had their hands on parts of it.
*"Hey!"* Called a voice, which echoed around the museum and rang through my ears. I stepped back, but not before I was barged by one of the attendants. He shoved all of us aside and closed the glass, pulling out a small cloth to wipe the stained case.
*"Don't touch that again. It's very old and very precious, and it's worth more than all of you little rats put together."* He warned, mumbling some other stuff as he walked away.
Everyone seemed to leave, but Phoebe and James had remained to argue, waving their fingers at each other as I went toward the display once again. It was such a beautiful item, which had been used many times to cut ribbons and was the center piece of many antiquated ceremonies.
*"You always have to make a fool of us..."*
*"Us? I didn't ask you to stick around."*
*"What? What's that supposed to mean?"*
*"It mea-"*
The voices beside me began to drown out of my senses as they instead became enveloped by the artifact. I couldn't take my eyes off it. I found my fingers slowly reaching for the bottom of the glass, and before long they had crawled beneath the case. I had my fingers of the hilt.
It felt strange; I felt strange. But in some way, it also felt right. I couldn't quite put my finger on why. I noticed that I was pulling it from the display and waving it around slightly, and a shock fell upon my face.
What was I doing?
What would happen if I took it home?
Suddenly the attendant from before was breathing on my shoulder, and pointed down to my hand as he raised his voice.
*"Put that back!"* He screamed, which seemed to ground me from whatever emotions were rattling my core. *"Put that back now..."*
*"What- What happens if I don't?"* I asked. I didn't know why I felt that way, or why those words came out of my mouth. I felt strangely rebellious- perhaps for the first time in my life.
*"Um..."* He mumbled, his anger fizzing out into a look of confusion. *"What do you mean?"*
*"I mean, if I take this home. What happens?"*
*"I... uh..."* He said, looking around as if that would help him conjure a response. He reached up to the radio on his shoulder and pressed the button. *"I need some assistance here. I can't figure out what's happening."*
Before long all of the staff were circling around me with their hands on their hips and their chins, struggling to communicate their concerns. And around them, a larger circle of visitors were rising to their toes to look at what was happening.
It felt fantastic.
*"Are you with the board?"* One of them eventually asked, who seemed more of an authority than the rest.
*"The what?"*
*"Are you here to take this for renovations?"*
*"Uh... no,"* I said in response, his eyes falling to my feet as his brows furled inward.
*"Then where are you from? Who are you with?"*
*"I come from the University,"* I said- which was true. This was a visit I couldn't pass up. I had been researching these types of tools for many years outside of what academia asked of me. I was fascinated by them.
*"O-oh. So, you're taking it for a lecture?"* He asked, turning to his colleagues with a reassured look. At this point I was baffled, unsure of why they considered me someone of importance. Either way, I went with it.
*"Yeah so, can I leave now?"* I asked, and he nodded in turn. The circle broke and I found myself wading through the guests around me that were slowly dispersing. It seemed no one was interested anymore.
But I was.
I was taking an item. An item that wasn't mine- one that I hadn't purchased. I was walking out of the building with it, and I was taking it home? My emotions seemed to surge into a mixture of incomprehensible thoughts and desires, those I had not come to know in the length of my life.
What was this feeling? What else could I take home?
I pulled my backpack from my shoulder and allowed the dagger to rest inside. It fell against some of the papers, and I removed the one at the front. I often carried around my research notes whenever I had a free moment to study.
As I looked upon the page I felt an odd euphoria surge inside me, and I rose to my feet as I continued to read. As I looked through the words I felt my stomach growl. I hadn't eaten in a long time.
----
*"That'll be $10.00."* He said, putting the pizza box on the counter.
*"I'm uh... going to take this."* I said, sliding it slowly toward me. He looked on in disbelief, before reaching over and hovering his hand over the box.
*"Look, is this some kind of prank?"*
*"No."* I said, pulling out the dagger with a smile on my face. *"This is power."*
He didn't seem to understand my sentiment.
What else could I take that would help him understand? I ran the steel across my finger as I contemplated my options, and a small droplet of blood fell onto the tiles at my feet.
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To my dearest love, Christina.
When you find this, I will be gone.
That phrase is incessantly used in notes such as this, but I am not partaking in suicide. I am partaking in discovery.
You see, I noticed something last night while I was at Marlas. I was walking through the courtyard to the pool and something caught my eye. It was a diamond ring. As it was placed directly in front of my path, I knelt down to retrieve it for the guest who had misplaced it. When I picked it up, something seemed to embrace my breast with the utmost giddy excitement, my heart fluttered quite literally as I gently put the ring on my finger.
It fit.
It fit perfectly, and my mind told me it was perfect for me. It was designed for me, not that ugly rich whore who misplaced it… Anyone that careless does not deserve the privilege of this ring.
Anybody whose finger was too thin, too frail to bear the incredible beauty and class of this ring was not worthy of it. It was mine.
IT WAS MADE FOR ME.
And that’s why I took it with me.
That’s why I took the kids with me.
Bye my love,
-Henry
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[WP] You live in a world where the concept of "theft" is not known. There are no security measurements, no locks, no passwords and leaving your belongings in the open is normal. You just realized you can take someone elses money as the first human ever.
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    *I'm so hungry.*
    This isn't a surprise. I've known my entire life that this day was coming. It's how my mother, father, my brothers and sister died.
    *Just one more day.*
    I could feel the cold pavement tear the skin away from my protruding belly. I can barely move, but I have to. Every day in the market, if I can beat the other kids, one of the vendors usually throws something out you can force down and survive on. All I have to do is stand up.
    *Please.*
    My atrophied arms strain under the laughable weight of my body. If I had already eaten I wouldn't have been able to lift myself up at all. It's almost funny. Somehow, I get one leg underneath the other and kind of scissor-lift my body into a rigid standing position. Shaking badly, I take a step.
    The stalls are set up every morning before the sun rises above the horizon. Yesterday, I was late; the same as the past three days. Scanning the busy faces, I don't see anyone familiar. That's not good news as a fresh series of chills run through my body.
    *I'm just going to have to pick someone.*
    One man has already set up most of his booth. He is yelling in some foreign language at the older boy helping him and not paying too much attention. I cross the square, trying with every reserve of strength I have to not look like the hundreds of other kids who will arrive in the dawn's light begging for every spare scrap. My chosen savior's trash bin is attached to the far corner of his stand and I move closer to get a better view. It's practically overflowing. Glancing up from my salvation, I see that vendor's back is still turned. My hand shakily reaches out-
    "Excuse me, si-si-sir?" I tug at the vendor's soft linen shirt. He turns, no less angry when he sees who is interrupting his ravings. "Could I pl-pl-please have a few small pieces from your waste? I haven't ea-ea-eaten in a few-"
    The side of my face explodes in a stinging pain. I'm on my back and it feels like every malnourished bone in my body must have burst into a fine powder from the fall. After moments of disbelief, the tears erupt and I'm gasping for a breath. The vendor turns his back to me again.
    *Why? How could he do this?*
    I couldn't understand. I did everything right and I'm the first one here.
    *It's not fair.*
    Maybe another stall. I try to figure out how bad I'm hurt and realize that I can't move my arm. My legs are also numb and forced into an odd angle, but the adrenaline helps get them back under me. Staggering up, I look towards the closest other booth. Several smaller children are already happily digging through the trash as the vendor looks on. The same can be said at the next vendor and the one farther on.
    *I'm going to die.*
    The thought is too much and the pain I was desperately trying to ignore comes flooding into focus. My legs give way and I fall backwards, hitting the angry man's table on my way down. Slamming into the dirt, my vision blurs. I can feel the inside of my mouth go dry from either fear or hunger. Probably both. I'm not sure I care anymore which is stronger.
    *I tried everything. I worked hard and I was good. I was so good. It wasn't enough*
    As my eyes start to flutter and close, they focus on a nearby object. Some sweet-smelling, expertly braided and baked loaf of bread has fallen off the table. It's a crueler death than I could even imagine. If only the man had said yes.
    *Reach out and take it.*
    My head must have hit harder than I thought. Take it? Without consent? These must be the type of thoughts you have when you die.
    *Don't die. Take it.*
    Everything inside me is pleading against it. As far as I know, millions have died only an arm's reach away from food, shelter, or medicine. It wasn't theirs though. This was an absolute truth outside of law or morality. It's a physical concept as real to me as the dry air coursing through my lungs or the gutter-water I had thirstily gulped down the night before.
    *Take. It.*
    My hand wraps around the crispy warm crust. I raise it to my mouth and take a bite. Somehow, I feel more pain as the first fresh food I've eaten in years slides down my throat. I know it will be worth it though. Chewing another piece, everything I know and believe in the world begins to change.
    *It's all mine.*
    No one has ever done what I just did. Anything I take, no matter how large, people will assume I paid for it. How could they not? The concept is beyond alien, it's completely new and unbelievable. It's also so, so very wrong.
    I finish the bread.
    On the strength of my new-found will alone, I stand up. The older boy is still being harassed by the vendor, but he is staring past the yelling man, wide-eyed, at me. He's scared of me. Under his terrified gaze, I grab two more sweet loafs straight from the table. Balancing wildly and trying to ignore the substantial pain in my arm, I walk out of the market and turn towards the direction of the inn, smiling for the first time.
    *I'm going to go sleep in a bed.*
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To my dearest love, Christina.
When you find this, I will be gone.
That phrase is incessantly used in notes such as this, but I am not partaking in suicide. I am partaking in discovery.
You see, I noticed something last night while I was at Marlas. I was walking through the courtyard to the pool and something caught my eye. It was a diamond ring. As it was placed directly in front of my path, I knelt down to retrieve it for the guest who had misplaced it. When I picked it up, something seemed to embrace my breast with the utmost giddy excitement, my heart fluttered quite literally as I gently put the ring on my finger.
It fit.
It fit perfectly, and my mind told me it was perfect for me. It was designed for me, not that ugly rich whore who misplaced it… Anyone that careless does not deserve the privilege of this ring.
Anybody whose finger was too thin, too frail to bear the incredible beauty and class of this ring was not worthy of it. It was mine.
IT WAS MADE FOR ME.
And that’s why I took it with me.
That’s why I took the kids with me.
Bye my love,
-Henry
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[WP] Every dog is able to speak perfect English exactly once, for one sentence, in their lifetime. You're on trial for a murder you didn't commit, and your dog is the only one who could possibly exonerate you. There's just one problem: you weren't a very good owner.
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Judge Graham allowed himself to soak in a moment’s peace as he rearranged his papers. The courtroom, an arena where explosive outbursts now passed for normal conversation, had fallen unusually silent as they waited for him to make the ruling. But decorum demanded that he press on, and Judge Graham steeled himself mentally, braced for the reactions, then spoke into the microphone.
“In the case of the People v Roger Blathe,” he said, “I allow the prosecution’s application. Under the Animal Witness Act, I order that the defendant’s pet be brought in for cross-examination.”
The outburst was even more violent than he had imagined. Not from the prosecution, who were already smugly congratulating themselves. Not from the defendant even, who sank lower into his chair, the despair clearly written on his face.
But from the representatives from PETA, the animal rights organization, who filled up more than half of the public gallery. The bailiffs moved in quickly to enforce order, but some of them were already on their feet, shaking their fists in the air.
“You’re heartless!” one of them yelled. “Cruel and heartless! Blood is on your hands, you piece of shit judge! How dare you value our lives over an animal’s?”
*The better question is, how can I not?* thought Judge Graham. He kept a poker face as the bailiffs quelled the disorder, bundled the more troublesome activists out. In truth, a twinge of guilt had nestled deep within, and it niggled at him.
Judge Graham had only invoked the Animal Witness Act once before. He knew that the process entailed a relatively painless injection of nanobots into an animal, and that the nanobots would grant the animal enhanced cognitive functions, allowing the animal to actually converse with a human, to bridge that age-old divide that had always separated man and animal.
Wonderful technology, all in all.
If only it didn’t also mean that the animal would die within minutes.
“Please, your Honour!” said the defendant. Judge Graham noted again how Roger had deteriorated so drastically from his file photo – Roger was only thirty, but his hair was already thinning, and an unhealthy pallor clung to his skin. Roger was standing, pushing away his lawyer who was trying to hold him back. “I will confess!” Roger said, “to everything! I did it! Just don’t do that to Mason, please! He’s innocent!”
The prosecution had jumped up too, shouting over Roger. Their arguments were a rehash of what they had submitted in writing – that any confession now could be challenged later, that they needed clear and convincing evidence from the dog, that the law was clearly on their side. Judge Graham didn’t need to hear the arguments again, and he pounded his gavel heartily.
“Defendant,” Judge Graham said, “I am sorry but the law is clear on this point. Your dog can be called upon as a witness if there is a chance that his testimony may absolve you or otherwise lead us to the real killer.”
“But, your Honour…”
Another pounding of the gavel, and technicians entered the court room, leading an old golden retriever in on a leash. Judge Graham guessed that the nanobot injections were kept in the black briefcases they were carrying.
In chambers, Judge Graham had asked the prosecution if they knew of the risks involved. They assured him that they did, and that while it was theoretically possible for animals to lie in testimony, they had pointed to research which suggested that many animals simply did not know how to lie. Further, they had said, they had conducted surveillance which showed that the defendant had abused his dog, which lowered the chances that the dog would unfairly take the defendant’s side in court.
*Is this true?* Judge Graham had asked Roger, and his silence was all the answer the judge needed. The prosecution had then provided files and files of surveillance photographs, showing Roger forgetting to feed Mason, ignoring him at home, neglecting to take him out for walks, beating him with a rolled-up newspaper… one particularly disturbing video even showed Mason nuzzling Roger repeatedly, while the latter lay concussed in bed. Empty bottles of alcohol around the bedroom made clear why Roger was unable to respond.
Even though he was supposed to remain impartial, withhold judgment, Judge Graham found at that point that he no longer had any sympathy for Roger, nor any respect for the years of service Roger had performed in Afghanistan.
“Begin with the process,” Judge Graham said, as they placed Mason in the witness stand. He tried his best to block out the sounds of the PETA activists chanting outside the courtroom, or Roger’s sobs as he collapsed into a heap on the table.
Mason whined, and it was clear that he was trying to leave his stand, head over to where his master was. Then, the nanobots kicked in, and Judge Graham saw Mason shake his head, as if a fog had suddenly lifted. The intelligence in Mason’s eyes multiplied a ten-fold, and Judge Graham knew they could begin.
“Do you know where you are, and what you are here to do, Mason?” asked the prosecutor.
“Yes…” said Mason, tasting the words as they left his mouth.
The formalities ensued, with the prosecutor laying out the charges against Roger, and informing Mason that he had a great duty to tell the truth and only the truth. Then, the moment they had been waiting for.
“So, Mason,” said the prosecutor, “tell us. What did you see on the night of July 12? Is your master, Roger Blathe, guilty as charged?”
Mason cocked his head to the side, thought for a moment, then spoke.
“Master,” said Mason, addressing Roger directly. “I want to keep answering this man’s questions, the way he pets my head makes me feel good. But I think I may not have enough time for that. Can you understand me?”
“Yes, yes I can,” said Roger. The tears were already streaming down his face.
The prosecution objected then, but Judge Graham overruled them. They wanted the animal to speak, they would have to deal with the consequences.
“Master,” Mason continued, “can you please look after yourself a bit better? I don’t know where you went for those two years, but you are… different, now. Ever since you came back… you wake in the middle of the night, screaming. You don’t return calls to your friends, you don’t eat much. You don’t even like to go out to the park with me anymore. We used to go running together, do you remember? But you seem to hate the outside now, and you stay in your room all day, just drinking, and reading, and crying. I am there for you, but you don’t see me the same anymore. If I’m not here, will you try, for me? I just want you to be the same person you were before you left, please?”
The prosecution objected, again, but this time they were much softer, much less grating than they usually were. Judge Graham saw how Mason had begun to slur, and noted the animal struggling to keep his head up.
There wasn’t much time left.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Mason,” said Judge Graham. “But we have to know. Did you see your master hurt the deceased in any way?”
Mason turned to face the judge. Both eyelids were drooping, and Mason struggled to finish his last sentence.
“The only one he has been hurting, is himself,” said Mason.
---
/r/rarelyfunny
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Jerry cleared his throat.
The jury stared at the wise-looking golden retriever in anticipation. This was it, and they knew it. He would speak his one sentence today. This was it.
Jerry licked his lips and his ears twitched.
The jury leaned forward.
Jerry said, "On October 8th, 2014, Brad Johnson spread peanut butter across his scrotum--"
Oh no, Jerry. Oh no. Why? But his one sentence wasn't finished.
"-- and he made me lick it off."
The crowd gasped. The jury stared at each other, wide-eyed, in utter disgust. Goddamnit, Jerry. What is shared between a man and his golden retriever is not meant for the general public.
But there we were, and there the jury sat, and I sighed and wished Jerry hadn't just fucked it all up for me, but it was clear he had. They were going to pronounce me guilty. This was some Camus-level bullshit. In Camus's case it had been a case about how much he loved his mother, and quite ironically, mine was a case of how much I didn't *love* my dog. Ironic, right?
Jerry looked at me and although he had no English words left for the rest of his life, I could sense his intention: "*Disgusting*."
As they excused me from the stand, my lawyer whispered in my ear, "You didn't tell me about this!" and why would I have? Fucking Jerry.
Fucking Jerry.
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[WP] Every dog is able to speak perfect English exactly once, for one sentence, in their lifetime. You're on trial for a murder you didn't commit, and your dog is the only one who could possibly exonerate you. There's just one problem: you weren't a very good owner.
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The A/C was roaring, casting translucent waves of sweat frost across the bench, the Jury box, and both the prosecution and the defense's table. Judge Reynard McClellin's sloppy, white comb-over shimmied like a drunken inflatable tube man.
"Bailiff...the serum, if you please," drawled the honorable judge, scratching his temple with the edge of his gavel.
Mark Frates grabbed his lead attorney by the shoulder. "Are you absolutely sure about this?" he hissed.
The attorney's name was Kaol Ciccilli and he didn't like being touched. "Mr. Frates, we've gone over this," he whispered, nudging aside his client's hand with the point of his pen. "Ginger was there, on the scene. She can exonerate you."
"But I mean...is she even credible?" said Mark, sweating despite the sub-artic temperatures.
"If this were the first time a dog's testimony had been presented at a trial, I might be concerned," said Kaol. "But dogs are very honest and in a jury trial their testimony has been proven to be extremely effective. Trust me - you want to give Ginger a chance to speak."
"But uh...I mean...cross examination, right?" Mark swallowed. "You said we can only do this serum thing once, or else her brain'll get fried, which - you know - obviously I don't want that. But we didn't prepare her at all, did we?"
"Mr. Frates, don't you realize that's precisely *why* canine testimony carries so much weight? She can't be coached."
"Ahhhh...okay." Mark leaned back, hardly daring to watch as a shaggy golden doodle was led up to the witness stand.
"Bailiff," said the judge, setting a green-tinted vial down on the edge of his bench. "Has the room been checked for any treats - liver cubes, slivers of bacon, pig ears, raw hides, kibbles and/or bits - that might be *distracting* to the witness?"
The bailiff nodded. "Full pat down, your honor."
The judge pointed at Mark. "And the defendant knows not to make any hand gestures or clicking noises that might be construed as leading the witness, correct?"
Mark was frozen solid. Kaol prodded him. "Yes!" squeaked Mark. "Of course. I won't...do...that." He cleared his throat.
"He's serious," hissed Kaol. "Nothing that might look like a command."
"*She doesn't know any commands!*" hissed Mark in return. "I never taught her anything!"
"Really? She's eight years old."
Mark shrugged. "I'm...not a controlling sort of owner, I guess."
Kaol shot his client a hearty side-eye as the bailiff administered the serum.
"Now," said the judge. "Seein' as there's no tellin' how long this'll last, defense - you get one question. Gotta leave at least enough time for cross-examination, you understand?"
"Perfectly," said Kaol, rising to his feet. "Ginger?"
The golden doodle cocked its head and glanced lovingly in Kaol's direction. "Hi!"
"Hi Ginger. Thank you for being here. I have one question." He held out a large, glossy photo, which the bailiff took, walking it past the jury and holding it up in front of Ginger. "Three months ago, the man in that photo died in your house. Your human, Mr. Frates, claims he was with you at the dog park when the man died. My question to you, Ginger, is this: was that man already dead when you came home, or did your human, Mr. Frates, kill him?"
The golden doodle's head cocked just a bit more. "What did he say?"
Kaol cleared his throat. "I'm sorry?"
"What did my human say?"
Kaol looked at down at Mark, who was withering gently in his chair. "He said he was at the dog park with you at the time."
"*With* me?" said Ginger, tongue lolling slightly. "He said he was *with* me at the dog park?"
"Um, Ginger dear," said Judge McClellin. "You're a good girl and we appreciate you bein' here today, but time's a little short. Can you answer the question for us? Was the man in the photo already dead when you came home that day?"
"I *am* a good girl, thank you," said the golden doodle, tail thumping against the inner panel of the witness stand. "But when you say he was *with* me at the dog park, do you mean *inside* the park and *playing* with me? Because that's what I think it means to be with your dog at the dog park."
"That's not really the important part here," stammered Kaol. "It's really *after* the park we're focused on. Did your master kill the man in the photo?"
"*Master*?" said Ginger.
"Owner?" sad Kaol.
"What did *he* say we did at the park?" asked Ginger.
"That's not important," said Kaol quickly.
"IT'S VERY IMPORTANT," roared Ginger.
"Mr. Frates," said the judge. "We need to get past this point. Now. For the edification of your dog, what happened at the park?"
Mark smacked his lips, which were suddenly very dry. "We...uh...did park things."
"Such as...?"
Mark could not look his dog in the eyes. "Play?"
"LIAR!" wailed Ginger. "You tied me to a picnic table and talked to women. You always tie me to things and go talk to women! No ball! No stick! No tug or war!"
"You're very hyperactive," muttered Mark.
"BECAUSE YOU NEVER LET ME PLAY!"
"Please calm down, Ms...uh...dog," said the judge. "I think regardless of the outcome of this trial, there are certain things Mr. Frates needs to improve upon as a pet owner. And I'm glad you've had a chance to voice those concerns. But right now, we need you to answer the question: was the man in the photo already dead when you returned home that day?"
Ginger panted, her soft eyes focused only on Mark. It was as if she wanted to be mad, but couldn't quite muster it anymore. Mark saw the anger melt away and felt a shame greater than any he'd ever felt. She was such a good dog, after all, and he'd been such a lousy owner. Now, finally, he'd seen the error of his ways. It had taken a public humiliation for it to sink in, but he *would* be a better dog owner. No matter what.
"Ginger?" said Kaol gently.
The dog sighed and smiled. "Bark! Bark bark bark! Bark? Bark bark?"
Mark's head bounced off the table.
"Fuck me," whistled Kaol.
|
Jerry cleared his throat.
The jury stared at the wise-looking golden retriever in anticipation. This was it, and they knew it. He would speak his one sentence today. This was it.
Jerry licked his lips and his ears twitched.
The jury leaned forward.
Jerry said, "On October 8th, 2014, Brad Johnson spread peanut butter across his scrotum--"
Oh no, Jerry. Oh no. Why? But his one sentence wasn't finished.
"-- and he made me lick it off."
The crowd gasped. The jury stared at each other, wide-eyed, in utter disgust. Goddamnit, Jerry. What is shared between a man and his golden retriever is not meant for the general public.
But there we were, and there the jury sat, and I sighed and wished Jerry hadn't just fucked it all up for me, but it was clear he had. They were going to pronounce me guilty. This was some Camus-level bullshit. In Camus's case it had been a case about how much he loved his mother, and quite ironically, mine was a case of how much I didn't *love* my dog. Ironic, right?
Jerry looked at me and although he had no English words left for the rest of his life, I could sense his intention: "*Disgusting*."
As they excused me from the stand, my lawyer whispered in my ear, "You didn't tell me about this!" and why would I have? Fucking Jerry.
Fucking Jerry.
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[WP] Every dog is able to speak perfect English exactly once, for one sentence, in their lifetime. You're on trial for a murder you didn't commit, and your dog is the only one who could possibly exonerate you. There's just one problem: you weren't a very good owner.
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I knew Honey wasn't going to say anything. They had her at the table, read her a long list of rules and information I'm sure she couldn't understand, and all waited. It was hard to believe that anyone expected her waste her one sentence on me.
My dog was going to outlive me, I realized. Once I was convicted, that would be it.
"Where was the defendant on the night of September 4th, 2015?" They asked Honey. Her ears perked and her tail wagged so hard that it thumped on the chair.
She was always happy just to hear a voice. I talked to her sometimes just to get her tail to wag like that, but not often. Usually I told myself I didn't have time. I tried to tell myself that I'd have spent more time with her had I known how soon it would be running out, but I couldn't make myself believe that.
They tried again. "It was raining hard on that night," they told her. As if the problem was that she didn't know what night they meant. "The defendant- that's your owner there, your human- he says he fell asleep early on the couch that night. Said he'd made hamburger, and let you have a piece he dropped? Is that true, were you two home all night?" They asked.
Honey just kept wagging her tail. They had mentioned the hamburger, but they hadn't mentioned how small of a piece it had been. I wondered if she had even been able to taste something that small, I'd only called her over so I wouldn't have to bend down and clean it up myself. She'd looked up at me after, expectant. I hadn't given her anything more. In fact, as I was drifting off later I'd realized that I'd forgotten to give her any dog food at all that night. She must have been hungry. I decided to wait until morning to feed her though, because I was comfortable and because I hadn't cared if she was uncomfortable.
They frowned, then tried one last time. "We think your owner might have done something bad," they told her. "It's important for us to know if he was really home or not that night because it will tell us if he was bad. We need to scold the person who did the bad thing, and make sure they don't do bad things again."
Honey tilted her head, tail slowing, but said nothing. She was a good dog. The unfamiliar people and places hadn't made her fussy in the slightest, and they said she'd caused no trouble on the car ride there either. Especially surprising considering that she'd never been in a car before. Really, she'd hardly left the house except to go potty her entire life. I wondered how it was that I had ended up with such a good dog. I wondered why I'd never bothered to try teaching her any tricks, or to take her to the park. It had only been a few blocks away. Getting out of the house could have been fun for both of us.
The judge opened his mouth, about to declare no testimony given and move the trial on. He was interrupted.
"Human is a good human and stayed home, human didn't do any bad things," Honey said. The tone was one of love, of admiration.
I started crying, right there in front of everyone. We don't deserve dogs.
|
Jerry cleared his throat.
The jury stared at the wise-looking golden retriever in anticipation. This was it, and they knew it. He would speak his one sentence today. This was it.
Jerry licked his lips and his ears twitched.
The jury leaned forward.
Jerry said, "On October 8th, 2014, Brad Johnson spread peanut butter across his scrotum--"
Oh no, Jerry. Oh no. Why? But his one sentence wasn't finished.
"-- and he made me lick it off."
The crowd gasped. The jury stared at each other, wide-eyed, in utter disgust. Goddamnit, Jerry. What is shared between a man and his golden retriever is not meant for the general public.
But there we were, and there the jury sat, and I sighed and wished Jerry hadn't just fucked it all up for me, but it was clear he had. They were going to pronounce me guilty. This was some Camus-level bullshit. In Camus's case it had been a case about how much he loved his mother, and quite ironically, mine was a case of how much I didn't *love* my dog. Ironic, right?
Jerry looked at me and although he had no English words left for the rest of his life, I could sense his intention: "*Disgusting*."
As they excused me from the stand, my lawyer whispered in my ear, "You didn't tell me about this!" and why would I have? Fucking Jerry.
Fucking Jerry.
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[WP] Every dog is able to speak perfect English exactly once, for one sentence, in their lifetime. You're on trial for a murder you didn't commit, and your dog is the only one who could possibly exonerate you. There's just one problem: you weren't a very good owner.
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I knew Honey wasn't going to say anything. They had her at the table, read her a long list of rules and information I'm sure she couldn't understand, and all waited. It was hard to believe that anyone expected her waste her one sentence on me.
My dog was going to outlive me, I realized. Once I was convicted, that would be it.
"Where was the defendant on the night of September 4th, 2015?" They asked Honey. Her ears perked and her tail wagged so hard that it thumped on the chair.
She was always happy just to hear a voice. I talked to her sometimes just to get her tail to wag like that, but not often. Usually I told myself I didn't have time. I tried to tell myself that I'd have spent more time with her had I known how soon it would be running out, but I couldn't make myself believe that.
They tried again. "It was raining hard on that night," they told her. As if the problem was that she didn't know what night they meant. "The defendant- that's your owner there, your human- he says he fell asleep early on the couch that night. Said he'd made hamburger, and let you have a piece he dropped? Is that true, were you two home all night?" They asked.
Honey just kept wagging her tail. They had mentioned the hamburger, but they hadn't mentioned how small of a piece it had been. I wondered if she had even been able to taste something that small, I'd only called her over so I wouldn't have to bend down and clean it up myself. She'd looked up at me after, expectant. I hadn't given her anything more. In fact, as I was drifting off later I'd realized that I'd forgotten to give her any dog food at all that night. She must have been hungry. I decided to wait until morning to feed her though, because I was comfortable and because I hadn't cared if she was uncomfortable.
They frowned, then tried one last time. "We think your owner might have done something bad," they told her. "It's important for us to know if he was really home or not that night because it will tell us if he was bad. We need to scold the person who did the bad thing, and make sure they don't do bad things again."
Honey tilted her head, tail slowing, but said nothing. She was a good dog. The unfamiliar people and places hadn't made her fussy in the slightest, and they said she'd caused no trouble on the car ride there either. Especially surprising considering that she'd never been in a car before. Really, she'd hardly left the house except to go potty her entire life. I wondered how it was that I had ended up with such a good dog. I wondered why I'd never bothered to try teaching her any tricks, or to take her to the park. It had only been a few blocks away. Getting out of the house could have been fun for both of us.
The judge opened his mouth, about to declare no testimony given and move the trial on. He was interrupted.
"Human is a good human and stayed home, human didn't do any bad things," Honey said. The tone was one of love, of admiration.
I started crying, right there in front of everyone. We don't deserve dogs.
|
Judge Graham allowed himself to soak in a moment’s peace as he rearranged his papers. The courtroom, an arena where explosive outbursts now passed for normal conversation, had fallen unusually silent as they waited for him to make the ruling. But decorum demanded that he press on, and Judge Graham steeled himself mentally, braced for the reactions, then spoke into the microphone.
“In the case of the People v Roger Blathe,” he said, “I allow the prosecution’s application. Under the Animal Witness Act, I order that the defendant’s pet be brought in for cross-examination.”
The outburst was even more violent than he had imagined. Not from the prosecution, who were already smugly congratulating themselves. Not from the defendant even, who sank lower into his chair, the despair clearly written on his face.
But from the representatives from PETA, the animal rights organization, who filled up more than half of the public gallery. The bailiffs moved in quickly to enforce order, but some of them were already on their feet, shaking their fists in the air.
“You’re heartless!” one of them yelled. “Cruel and heartless! Blood is on your hands, you piece of shit judge! How dare you value our lives over an animal’s?”
*The better question is, how can I not?* thought Judge Graham. He kept a poker face as the bailiffs quelled the disorder, bundled the more troublesome activists out. In truth, a twinge of guilt had nestled deep within, and it niggled at him.
Judge Graham had only invoked the Animal Witness Act once before. He knew that the process entailed a relatively painless injection of nanobots into an animal, and that the nanobots would grant the animal enhanced cognitive functions, allowing the animal to actually converse with a human, to bridge that age-old divide that had always separated man and animal.
Wonderful technology, all in all.
If only it didn’t also mean that the animal would die within minutes.
“Please, your Honour!” said the defendant. Judge Graham noted again how Roger had deteriorated so drastically from his file photo – Roger was only thirty, but his hair was already thinning, and an unhealthy pallor clung to his skin. Roger was standing, pushing away his lawyer who was trying to hold him back. “I will confess!” Roger said, “to everything! I did it! Just don’t do that to Mason, please! He’s innocent!”
The prosecution had jumped up too, shouting over Roger. Their arguments were a rehash of what they had submitted in writing – that any confession now could be challenged later, that they needed clear and convincing evidence from the dog, that the law was clearly on their side. Judge Graham didn’t need to hear the arguments again, and he pounded his gavel heartily.
“Defendant,” Judge Graham said, “I am sorry but the law is clear on this point. Your dog can be called upon as a witness if there is a chance that his testimony may absolve you or otherwise lead us to the real killer.”
“But, your Honour…”
Another pounding of the gavel, and technicians entered the court room, leading an old golden retriever in on a leash. Judge Graham guessed that the nanobot injections were kept in the black briefcases they were carrying.
In chambers, Judge Graham had asked the prosecution if they knew of the risks involved. They assured him that they did, and that while it was theoretically possible for animals to lie in testimony, they had pointed to research which suggested that many animals simply did not know how to lie. Further, they had said, they had conducted surveillance which showed that the defendant had abused his dog, which lowered the chances that the dog would unfairly take the defendant’s side in court.
*Is this true?* Judge Graham had asked Roger, and his silence was all the answer the judge needed. The prosecution had then provided files and files of surveillance photographs, showing Roger forgetting to feed Mason, ignoring him at home, neglecting to take him out for walks, beating him with a rolled-up newspaper… one particularly disturbing video even showed Mason nuzzling Roger repeatedly, while the latter lay concussed in bed. Empty bottles of alcohol around the bedroom made clear why Roger was unable to respond.
Even though he was supposed to remain impartial, withhold judgment, Judge Graham found at that point that he no longer had any sympathy for Roger, nor any respect for the years of service Roger had performed in Afghanistan.
“Begin with the process,” Judge Graham said, as they placed Mason in the witness stand. He tried his best to block out the sounds of the PETA activists chanting outside the courtroom, or Roger’s sobs as he collapsed into a heap on the table.
Mason whined, and it was clear that he was trying to leave his stand, head over to where his master was. Then, the nanobots kicked in, and Judge Graham saw Mason shake his head, as if a fog had suddenly lifted. The intelligence in Mason’s eyes multiplied a ten-fold, and Judge Graham knew they could begin.
“Do you know where you are, and what you are here to do, Mason?” asked the prosecutor.
“Yes…” said Mason, tasting the words as they left his mouth.
The formalities ensued, with the prosecutor laying out the charges against Roger, and informing Mason that he had a great duty to tell the truth and only the truth. Then, the moment they had been waiting for.
“So, Mason,” said the prosecutor, “tell us. What did you see on the night of July 12? Is your master, Roger Blathe, guilty as charged?”
Mason cocked his head to the side, thought for a moment, then spoke.
“Master,” said Mason, addressing Roger directly. “I want to keep answering this man’s questions, the way he pets my head makes me feel good. But I think I may not have enough time for that. Can you understand me?”
“Yes, yes I can,” said Roger. The tears were already streaming down his face.
The prosecution objected then, but Judge Graham overruled them. They wanted the animal to speak, they would have to deal with the consequences.
“Master,” Mason continued, “can you please look after yourself a bit better? I don’t know where you went for those two years, but you are… different, now. Ever since you came back… you wake in the middle of the night, screaming. You don’t return calls to your friends, you don’t eat much. You don’t even like to go out to the park with me anymore. We used to go running together, do you remember? But you seem to hate the outside now, and you stay in your room all day, just drinking, and reading, and crying. I am there for you, but you don’t see me the same anymore. If I’m not here, will you try, for me? I just want you to be the same person you were before you left, please?”
The prosecution objected, again, but this time they were much softer, much less grating than they usually were. Judge Graham saw how Mason had begun to slur, and noted the animal struggling to keep his head up.
There wasn’t much time left.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Mason,” said Judge Graham. “But we have to know. Did you see your master hurt the deceased in any way?”
Mason turned to face the judge. Both eyelids were drooping, and Mason struggled to finish his last sentence.
“The only one he has been hurting, is himself,” said Mason.
---
/r/rarelyfunny
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[WP] Every dog is able to speak perfect English exactly once, for one sentence, in their lifetime. You're on trial for a murder you didn't commit, and your dog is the only one who could possibly exonerate you. There's just one problem: you weren't a very good owner.
|
I knew Honey wasn't going to say anything. They had her at the table, read her a long list of rules and information I'm sure she couldn't understand, and all waited. It was hard to believe that anyone expected her waste her one sentence on me.
My dog was going to outlive me, I realized. Once I was convicted, that would be it.
"Where was the defendant on the night of September 4th, 2015?" They asked Honey. Her ears perked and her tail wagged so hard that it thumped on the chair.
She was always happy just to hear a voice. I talked to her sometimes just to get her tail to wag like that, but not often. Usually I told myself I didn't have time. I tried to tell myself that I'd have spent more time with her had I known how soon it would be running out, but I couldn't make myself believe that.
They tried again. "It was raining hard on that night," they told her. As if the problem was that she didn't know what night they meant. "The defendant- that's your owner there, your human- he says he fell asleep early on the couch that night. Said he'd made hamburger, and let you have a piece he dropped? Is that true, were you two home all night?" They asked.
Honey just kept wagging her tail. They had mentioned the hamburger, but they hadn't mentioned how small of a piece it had been. I wondered if she had even been able to taste something that small, I'd only called her over so I wouldn't have to bend down and clean it up myself. She'd looked up at me after, expectant. I hadn't given her anything more. In fact, as I was drifting off later I'd realized that I'd forgotten to give her any dog food at all that night. She must have been hungry. I decided to wait until morning to feed her though, because I was comfortable and because I hadn't cared if she was uncomfortable.
They frowned, then tried one last time. "We think your owner might have done something bad," they told her. "It's important for us to know if he was really home or not that night because it will tell us if he was bad. We need to scold the person who did the bad thing, and make sure they don't do bad things again."
Honey tilted her head, tail slowing, but said nothing. She was a good dog. The unfamiliar people and places hadn't made her fussy in the slightest, and they said she'd caused no trouble on the car ride there either. Especially surprising considering that she'd never been in a car before. Really, she'd hardly left the house except to go potty her entire life. I wondered how it was that I had ended up with such a good dog. I wondered why I'd never bothered to try teaching her any tricks, or to take her to the park. It had only been a few blocks away. Getting out of the house could have been fun for both of us.
The judge opened his mouth, about to declare no testimony given and move the trial on. He was interrupted.
"Human is a good human and stayed home, human didn't do any bad things," Honey said. The tone was one of love, of admiration.
I started crying, right there in front of everyone. We don't deserve dogs.
|
The A/C was roaring, casting translucent waves of sweat frost across the bench, the Jury box, and both the prosecution and the defense's table. Judge Reynard McClellin's sloppy, white comb-over shimmied like a drunken inflatable tube man.
"Bailiff...the serum, if you please," drawled the honorable judge, scratching his temple with the edge of his gavel.
Mark Frates grabbed his lead attorney by the shoulder. "Are you absolutely sure about this?" he hissed.
The attorney's name was Kaol Ciccilli and he didn't like being touched. "Mr. Frates, we've gone over this," he whispered, nudging aside his client's hand with the point of his pen. "Ginger was there, on the scene. She can exonerate you."
"But I mean...is she even credible?" said Mark, sweating despite the sub-artic temperatures.
"If this were the first time a dog's testimony had been presented at a trial, I might be concerned," said Kaol. "But dogs are very honest and in a jury trial their testimony has been proven to be extremely effective. Trust me - you want to give Ginger a chance to speak."
"But uh...I mean...cross examination, right?" Mark swallowed. "You said we can only do this serum thing once, or else her brain'll get fried, which - you know - obviously I don't want that. But we didn't prepare her at all, did we?"
"Mr. Frates, don't you realize that's precisely *why* canine testimony carries so much weight? She can't be coached."
"Ahhhh...okay." Mark leaned back, hardly daring to watch as a shaggy golden doodle was led up to the witness stand.
"Bailiff," said the judge, setting a green-tinted vial down on the edge of his bench. "Has the room been checked for any treats - liver cubes, slivers of bacon, pig ears, raw hides, kibbles and/or bits - that might be *distracting* to the witness?"
The bailiff nodded. "Full pat down, your honor."
The judge pointed at Mark. "And the defendant knows not to make any hand gestures or clicking noises that might be construed as leading the witness, correct?"
Mark was frozen solid. Kaol prodded him. "Yes!" squeaked Mark. "Of course. I won't...do...that." He cleared his throat.
"He's serious," hissed Kaol. "Nothing that might look like a command."
"*She doesn't know any commands!*" hissed Mark in return. "I never taught her anything!"
"Really? She's eight years old."
Mark shrugged. "I'm...not a controlling sort of owner, I guess."
Kaol shot his client a hearty side-eye as the bailiff administered the serum.
"Now," said the judge. "Seein' as there's no tellin' how long this'll last, defense - you get one question. Gotta leave at least enough time for cross-examination, you understand?"
"Perfectly," said Kaol, rising to his feet. "Ginger?"
The golden doodle cocked its head and glanced lovingly in Kaol's direction. "Hi!"
"Hi Ginger. Thank you for being here. I have one question." He held out a large, glossy photo, which the bailiff took, walking it past the jury and holding it up in front of Ginger. "Three months ago, the man in that photo died in your house. Your human, Mr. Frates, claims he was with you at the dog park when the man died. My question to you, Ginger, is this: was that man already dead when you came home, or did your human, Mr. Frates, kill him?"
The golden doodle's head cocked just a bit more. "What did he say?"
Kaol cleared his throat. "I'm sorry?"
"What did my human say?"
Kaol looked at down at Mark, who was withering gently in his chair. "He said he was at the dog park with you at the time."
"*With* me?" said Ginger, tongue lolling slightly. "He said he was *with* me at the dog park?"
"Um, Ginger dear," said Judge McClellin. "You're a good girl and we appreciate you bein' here today, but time's a little short. Can you answer the question for us? Was the man in the photo already dead when you came home that day?"
"I *am* a good girl, thank you," said the golden doodle, tail thumping against the inner panel of the witness stand. "But when you say he was *with* me at the dog park, do you mean *inside* the park and *playing* with me? Because that's what I think it means to be with your dog at the dog park."
"That's not really the important part here," stammered Kaol. "It's really *after* the park we're focused on. Did your master kill the man in the photo?"
"*Master*?" said Ginger.
"Owner?" sad Kaol.
"What did *he* say we did at the park?" asked Ginger.
"That's not important," said Kaol quickly.
"IT'S VERY IMPORTANT," roared Ginger.
"Mr. Frates," said the judge. "We need to get past this point. Now. For the edification of your dog, what happened at the park?"
Mark smacked his lips, which were suddenly very dry. "We...uh...did park things."
"Such as...?"
Mark could not look his dog in the eyes. "Play?"
"LIAR!" wailed Ginger. "You tied me to a picnic table and talked to women. You always tie me to things and go talk to women! No ball! No stick! No tug or war!"
"You're very hyperactive," muttered Mark.
"BECAUSE YOU NEVER LET ME PLAY!"
"Please calm down, Ms...uh...dog," said the judge. "I think regardless of the outcome of this trial, there are certain things Mr. Frates needs to improve upon as a pet owner. And I'm glad you've had a chance to voice those concerns. But right now, we need you to answer the question: was the man in the photo already dead when you returned home that day?"
Ginger panted, her soft eyes focused only on Mark. It was as if she wanted to be mad, but couldn't quite muster it anymore. Mark saw the anger melt away and felt a shame greater than any he'd ever felt. She was such a good dog, after all, and he'd been such a lousy owner. Now, finally, he'd seen the error of his ways. It had taken a public humiliation for it to sink in, but he *would* be a better dog owner. No matter what.
"Ginger?" said Kaol gently.
The dog sighed and smiled. "Bark! Bark bark bark! Bark? Bark bark?"
Mark's head bounced off the table.
"Fuck me," whistled Kaol.
|
|
[WP] To travel the stars, humanity has built a teleportation device: two doors must be built, and a portal opens linking them when both are turned on. We've sent instructions to build the second door in a radiowave broadcast into space. For decades we have waited for the portal to open... until now.
|
"The next step for humanity!" That is what they called the teleporter when they built it. That was almost five hundred years ago though and now it just sits in a field. Cole likes to come here and just look at it. He likes to imagine what it would be like if it ever actually opened. There used to be guards posted at the fence day and night, preventing people like Cole from wandering onto the grounds. That stopped about fifty years ago, the government finally decided it wasn’t worth paying people to watch. Signs were still up warning people that they shouldn't venture inside the fence, but Cole didn't listen. That is how Cole found himself standing in front of the massive doorway, his face looking up at it in wonder.
The doorway is quite daunting. It stands twenty feet tall and twenty feet wide, the idea being that they could move semi-trailers through it if need be when the portal opened. That idea, along with thousands of others has been long forgotten. Only the occasional curious individual like Cole would come by anymore. It made him feel oddly better. If this enormous investment could fail at its one and only purpose in the universe, then his own shortcomings didn't seem so bad. Something started to nag at the back of his mind though. He could tell that something wasn't right, he just couldn't place it. The hairs on his arms slowly rise as if lightning is about to strike when suddenly blue electricity arcs within the doorway.
Cole tumbles backward in shock and a small amount of fear as the blue electricity slowly repeatedly arcs back and forth between the inner sides of the doorway. It is very inconsistent at first and becomes more and more frequent until suddenly it doesn't go away. At the very center of the doorway a blue glowing ball of energy forms. The arcs of electricity shift to all feed into this ball as it grows wider and wider. The growing ball flattens out as it expands, slowly filling the entire doorway with energy. The harsh snapping sound of electricity has vanished now, only a soothing hum as the portal seems to have stabilized in the doorway. Dumbfounded, Cole looks up into the pale blue light. Elsewhere, alarms are going off in science labs all around the world.
It only takes Cole a second to make the decision that he is going through the portal. "Who knows if anyone is even watching anymore, someone has to go in...", he says to himself in superficial attempt at reason. He steps right up to the portal and tries in vain to slow his racing heart. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and steps through the portal.
The first thing he notices, even before he opens his eyes, is the complete and utter silence. Wherever he is, there is absolutely zero sound. For a split second he wonders if maybe the portal actually killed him, then he remembers to open his eyes. His location immediately makes him stumble backwards and almost fall back through the portal. He stands alone on a perfectly circular flat piece of rock that might be one hundred feet in diameter. The entire rock is enclosed in a blue bubble, very similar to that of the portal, and beyond the bubble lays destruction. If an entire planet suddenly cracked open and its pieces were ground to chunks the size of an automobile, maybe that would explain the sight that Cole sees before him.
The image of floating through space is so grandiose that he forgets to look at the ground he is on. While looking up and walking forward he smacks his knee into a large metal box. "Ow!", he remarks as he backs up to see what he found. The box almost seems to be fused with the ground and is a perfect cube, four feet per side. Ever the curious one, Cole grabs the edge of the box to peek inside. As soon as his skin makes contact with the box, he feels an electrical jolt and his mind starts to flood with information. So much data is flooding his mind that he drops to his knees, holding his head in pain until he blacks out.
Two scientists and an extremely high ranking general stand in an observation room, watching as they hook Cole up to a large amount of medical equipment.
The general turns to the scientists, "We found him unconsciousness next to the box. He kept repeating the word Pandora in every language known to man and even more that we don't know. Any idea what is wrong with him yet?"
One of the scientists shakes his head, "Nothing that we can tell yet. His brain activity is off the charts though; I don't know how to explain it."
The other scientist clears his throat and looks very troubled. "We did find out what was in the box, Sir."
"Well, out with it! What was left in the box?"
"It was a single sample of blood. General, the blood is human."
|
My grandfather original came up with the idea, he was a genius and worked out all the math and whatever else was needed to get it to work. Then he tested out his theory and proved that he could teleport matter from Earth to the moon. He then came up with the crazier idea that this teleportation device could be used to go to other stars if there was a door way on the other end. Others called him insane of course, and rightly so in my book. How would this other door be built unless by some other intelligent life out there did it for us. But that was absolutely preposterous as they would have no idea how to build it. He has also figured out this problem and sent instructions on how to build it in a radio broadcast that would go all over the cosmos. But come on, how would they even understand these instructions, they weren't likely to speak in any language we did, nor would they be able to translate it into their own if they really did exist, it would be astonishing if they did.
Well the world is about to be astonished, no one would believe that it worked, I definitely didn't believe that it would but as his descendent , I had to look over our door, make sure it was ready to use just in case the other was ever built. Now that I'm getting this signal indicating that the other door is out there, the portal is ready, it is open and something will be coming through. I've told others about it, shown them the data that indicates it's going to happen, that the wait is finally over but they just laughed at me and called me as crazy as my grandfather. Well I guess I will have the last laugh now. Who knows what's coming through but it's certainly not going to be human, maybe they will kill those who laughed at me or perhaps they come in peace. I will have to see when they get here, the possibilities are endless.
|
|
[WP] To travel the stars, humanity has built a teleportation device: two doors must be built, and a portal opens linking them when both are turned on. We've sent instructions to build the second door in a radiowave broadcast into space. For decades we have waited for the portal to open... until now.
|
Gus ran his hands over the thick brown folder. *Top Secret*, it read in bright red letters on the cover. Flipping it open he scanned the pages. The Humvee hit a bump in the road as Gus clung to the papers. Dirt clouds wafted behind the military vehicle illuminated by a full moon. Gus peered out from the window at the dark dessert. Area 51. It was his third trip, the first two were routine checks and clearances. This trip was the real deal. They were waved through the heavily guarded barricade.
The soldier on the passenger side jumped out of the vehicle and opened the door for Gus. Gus handed him the folder. The soldier took it and set it on fire, throwing it to the ground. They watched the paper burn up quickly.
“Glad you could join us,” John said appearing out of the darkness, throwing up a salute. John was a military man through and through, from the perfect posture to his clean shaven face. Gus fit in with these people, he could fit in anywhere if push came to shove.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world sir,” Gus said returning the salute.
They made their way to a set of heavy steel doors illuminated by a small light. John entered the security code and placed his thumb on the bio-metric reader.
The bunker was eerily quiet, their footsteps echoed in the small hallway. The elevator stood at the end; the ride down felt endless.
“Can never be too careful,” John said as the elevator slowed. Gus nodded.
The elevator doors opened to two guards holding M4 rifles. The guards saluted and stepped aside. Gus and John entered a small room. John pointed Gus to a locker. Gus stripped down and donned a suit he fished out of the locker. The sleek suit fit perfectly. Gus was accustomed to the more bulky design used for spacewalks but he loved this new model.
John grinned at Gus, “Looking good.”
He pointed him to a door. Gus approached it and it slid open automatically. He stepped into a large white spherical room. At the end of it stood the gateway. Two large metallic pillars that emitted a blue light between them.
“Evening Gus. Please proceed to the gateway,” a voice commanded from inside his helmet.
Gus slowly walked towards the pillars and the blue hue. He balled his hands into fits. A film of sweat formed on his forehead. He gulped down hard. Standing in front of the gateway he felt the buzzing energy of the blue light. He reached out his hand towards it. On the other end of this portal was another species. A species that had received instructions beamed into space over 20 years ago. Instructions to build the receiving gateway. Gus was to be the first to make contact with whatever lay on the other side. He always envisioned himself flying to space with a crew. Now he was entering an unknown area of space with nothing more than this suit, his training and hope.
“All suit safety and recording instruments optimal. Gus you are free to enter."
“Affirmative. See you when I get back,” Gus replied.
Gus stuck his head in through the blue light. He saw a vast black expanse with shimmering lights, like the aurora borealis but made up of all colours.
*No going back now*, he thought as he walked into the space. He floated in the black expanse. Looking back he saw the blue light, reassuring himself of his return.
“It’s... it’s beautiful."
“We are getting all feeds Gus,” a voice crackled back.
Out of nowhere hundreds of little white lights appeared in his vision. They zoomed towards him and encircled his body. Gus stretched out his hands towards the lights.
“I’ve made contact.”
The white lights swam along his suit as Gus floated freely in space. A light hovered in front of his visor, pressing right up against it, then it was gone. Gus scrunched his nose as he felt an itch. The lights around him pressed up against his suit. Gus felt a jolt. It felt like a hundred little mosquito bites all at once. The lights were gone.
“You guys getting this?”
“Gus, we aren’t seeing much here, the feeds have cut out. We have collected all the data we need for now. Proceed back to the gate.”
Gus looked out into the expanse one last time. The spectrum of colours shimmered against black space. Gus turned back towards the gate.
Back in the small room he removed the suit. He gasped. His arms had hundreds of white pinpricks all over them.
“Gus. We are quarantining the room. Standard procedure. We will have medical staff out there for you shortly.”
Gus touched the white spots, they felt strange, almost metallic.
Panic started to well up in him. He tried to focus in on his breathing to calm himself but he couldn't take any air in. He tried to yell but no words escaped.
“Gus! We need you to back away from the door!” the speaker commanded.
Gus strained to gain control over his body but it was too late. As if possessed he struck the steel door with his fists, bending it. A loud alarm sounded throughout the bunker.
“Breach in holding area 33. Contamination protocols engaged,” the speaker crackled.
---
[Crossposted](https://steemit.com/fiction/@cizzo/first-contact-short-story-or-sci-fi) on [Steemit](https://steemit.com/@cizzo)
|
My grandfather original came up with the idea, he was a genius and worked out all the math and whatever else was needed to get it to work. Then he tested out his theory and proved that he could teleport matter from Earth to the moon. He then came up with the crazier idea that this teleportation device could be used to go to other stars if there was a door way on the other end. Others called him insane of course, and rightly so in my book. How would this other door be built unless by some other intelligent life out there did it for us. But that was absolutely preposterous as they would have no idea how to build it. He has also figured out this problem and sent instructions on how to build it in a radio broadcast that would go all over the cosmos. But come on, how would they even understand these instructions, they weren't likely to speak in any language we did, nor would they be able to translate it into their own if they really did exist, it would be astonishing if they did.
Well the world is about to be astonished, no one would believe that it worked, I definitely didn't believe that it would but as his descendent , I had to look over our door, make sure it was ready to use just in case the other was ever built. Now that I'm getting this signal indicating that the other door is out there, the portal is ready, it is open and something will be coming through. I've told others about it, shown them the data that indicates it's going to happen, that the wait is finally over but they just laughed at me and called me as crazy as my grandfather. Well I guess I will have the last laugh now. Who knows what's coming through but it's certainly not going to be human, maybe they will kill those who laughed at me or perhaps they come in peace. I will have to see when they get here, the possibilities are endless.
|
|
[WP] To travel the stars, humanity has built a teleportation device: two doors must be built, and a portal opens linking them when both are turned on. We've sent instructions to build the second door in a radiowave broadcast into space. For decades we have waited for the portal to open... until now.
|
100 years.
That's how long it's been since the project.
Everybody thought the project was a complete failure. Nobody pursued the project at all. The second door hasn't been opened in 100 years. I, myself, thought that was not enough time to judge, but people don't change.
No one thought about the project anymore. It was kept there, just so people can go see it.
Everybody who started the project isn't alive anymore. All of them are dead, for one reason or another.
But as for me, I've been admiring the project since I was 10. I would come there every weekend, hoping to see it finally open to the eyes of us human beings.
I was sure of it. I was called a maniac, a moron, and sometimes even brain-dead.
But I still believed.
I am now 32, I'd still go see the project every weekend, though i'd be lying if I don't say that I started to lose hope.
Until that day, a glowing light started coming from the door.
Everybody was scared. Some ran, some stayed, but on their guard.
But I smiled, and cried at the same time. I mean--- I've been tormented for 22 years for this.
It's the moment that finally proved that I am not a maniac.
I go in, tears filling my eyes. I enter the blue sphere in the middle.
And I am greeted by...
A guy who looks middle aged, wearing ancient, torn up clothes, on an unknown planet, which was very similar to earth in terms of the atmosphere.
He looked like a human, there was no way that he'd be an alien.
But he looked odd, like all life was sucked out of him.
"*It's worked, I guess*" He said, uninterested in anything.
People followed after me, and they all go in with their guns, ready to shoot if anyone of the presumed aliens tries to attack them.
But no one, except that guy, was there.
"*Who are you? and who built the second door?*" Said one of the bodyguards.
"*I've forgot my name long ago*" Said the guy.
They all look at each other, then signal something by nodding their heads, hands on their guns.
"*How did you get here, and when?*" Said one of the bodyguards.
"*I kept drifting around for about 2 million years, then I got here*" He said, like that wasn't crazy.
"*Wha- huh?*" Said one of the bodyguards, before cutting off, and saying "*Wait*".
"*Are you saying, you're an immortal being?*".
"*I guess, that's right, and I've been so for 40-50 billion years at least, though I've lost track of time*" He said.
"*And how exactly did you become Immortal?*" Asked another bodyguard.
"*I found the secret to immortality in the old world, though that's as much as I can inform you that you'll understand*" He said.
"*The old world?*" I wondered, with everybody thinking the same.
"*Each few billion years, an explosion occurs, and everything gets destroyed and rebuilt again*" He said.
"*I found the secret to immortality about 50 billion years ago, though I am not sure if it's actually 51...*".
"*This place is the closest habitable planet to the old planet in the former world which got exploded and rebuilt 13 years ago*".
"*I don't need oxygen or even a habitable planet, since I'm immortal, but I thought about the possibility of the new world attempting to open portals again*".
By now, about 20 people have gathered, the rest are probably prevented by the security at the project gathering.
I went to the door to go back and tell people about this huge step for humanity.
"*Oh, and one thing*" He said.
I am too excited to care, but I open the door, and am forced to listen,
"*The first door you guys built had a malfunctuioning entering mechanism*" He said.
"*You're stuck here*".
|
My grandfather original came up with the idea, he was a genius and worked out all the math and whatever else was needed to get it to work. Then he tested out his theory and proved that he could teleport matter from Earth to the moon. He then came up with the crazier idea that this teleportation device could be used to go to other stars if there was a door way on the other end. Others called him insane of course, and rightly so in my book. How would this other door be built unless by some other intelligent life out there did it for us. But that was absolutely preposterous as they would have no idea how to build it. He has also figured out this problem and sent instructions on how to build it in a radio broadcast that would go all over the cosmos. But come on, how would they even understand these instructions, they weren't likely to speak in any language we did, nor would they be able to translate it into their own if they really did exist, it would be astonishing if they did.
Well the world is about to be astonished, no one would believe that it worked, I definitely didn't believe that it would but as his descendent , I had to look over our door, make sure it was ready to use just in case the other was ever built. Now that I'm getting this signal indicating that the other door is out there, the portal is ready, it is open and something will be coming through. I've told others about it, shown them the data that indicates it's going to happen, that the wait is finally over but they just laughed at me and called me as crazy as my grandfather. Well I guess I will have the last laugh now. Who knows what's coming through but it's certainly not going to be human, maybe they will kill those who laughed at me or perhaps they come in peace. I will have to see when they get here, the possibilities are endless.
|
|
[WP] To travel the stars, humanity has built a teleportation device: two doors must be built, and a portal opens linking them when both are turned on. We've sent instructions to build the second door in a radiowave broadcast into space. For decades we have waited for the portal to open... until now.
|
100 years.
That's how long it's been since the project.
Everybody thought the project was a complete failure. Nobody pursued the project at all. The second door hasn't been opened in 100 years. I, myself, thought that was not enough time to judge, but people don't change.
No one thought about the project anymore. It was kept there, just so people can go see it.
Everybody who started the project isn't alive anymore. All of them are dead, for one reason or another.
But as for me, I've been admiring the project since I was 10. I would come there every weekend, hoping to see it finally open to the eyes of us human beings.
I was sure of it. I was called a maniac, a moron, and sometimes even brain-dead.
But I still believed.
I am now 32, I'd still go see the project every weekend, though i'd be lying if I don't say that I started to lose hope.
Until that day, a glowing light started coming from the door.
Everybody was scared. Some ran, some stayed, but on their guard.
But I smiled, and cried at the same time. I mean--- I've been tormented for 22 years for this.
It's the moment that finally proved that I am not a maniac.
I go in, tears filling my eyes. I enter the blue sphere in the middle.
And I am greeted by...
A guy who looks middle aged, wearing ancient, torn up clothes, on an unknown planet, which was very similar to earth in terms of the atmosphere.
He looked like a human, there was no way that he'd be an alien.
But he looked odd, like all life was sucked out of him.
"*It's worked, I guess*" He said, uninterested in anything.
People followed after me, and they all go in with their guns, ready to shoot if anyone of the presumed aliens tries to attack them.
But no one, except that guy, was there.
"*Who are you? and who built the second door?*" Said one of the bodyguards.
"*I've forgot my name long ago*" Said the guy.
They all look at each other, then signal something by nodding their heads, hands on their guns.
"*How did you get here, and when?*" Said one of the bodyguards.
"*I kept drifting around for about 2 million years, then I got here*" He said, like that wasn't crazy.
"*Wha- huh?*" Said one of the bodyguards, before cutting off, and saying "*Wait*".
"*Are you saying, you're an immortal being?*".
"*I guess, that's right, and I've been so for 40-50 billion years at least, though I've lost track of time*" He said.
"*And how exactly did you become Immortal?*" Asked another bodyguard.
"*I found the secret to immortality in the old world, though that's as much as I can inform you that you'll understand*" He said.
"*The old world?*" I wondered, with everybody thinking the same.
"*Each few billion years, an explosion occurs, and everything gets destroyed and rebuilt again*" He said.
"*I found the secret to immortality about 50 billion years ago, though I am not sure if it's actually 51...*".
"*This place is the closest habitable planet to the old planet in the former world which got exploded and rebuilt 13 years ago*".
"*I don't need oxygen or even a habitable planet, since I'm immortal, but I thought about the possibility of the new world attempting to open portals again*".
By now, about 20 people have gathered, the rest are probably prevented by the security at the project gathering.
I went to the door to go back and tell people about this huge step for humanity.
"*Oh, and one thing*" He said.
I am too excited to care, but I open the door, and am forced to listen,
"*The first door you guys built had a malfunctuioning entering mechanism*" He said.
"*You're stuck here*".
|
Gus ran his hands over the thick brown folder. *Top Secret*, it read in bright red letters on the cover. Flipping it open he scanned the pages. The Humvee hit a bump in the road as Gus clung to the papers. Dirt clouds wafted behind the military vehicle illuminated by a full moon. Gus peered out from the window at the dark dessert. Area 51. It was his third trip, the first two were routine checks and clearances. This trip was the real deal. They were waved through the heavily guarded barricade.
The soldier on the passenger side jumped out of the vehicle and opened the door for Gus. Gus handed him the folder. The soldier took it and set it on fire, throwing it to the ground. They watched the paper burn up quickly.
“Glad you could join us,” John said appearing out of the darkness, throwing up a salute. John was a military man through and through, from the perfect posture to his clean shaven face. Gus fit in with these people, he could fit in anywhere if push came to shove.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world sir,” Gus said returning the salute.
They made their way to a set of heavy steel doors illuminated by a small light. John entered the security code and placed his thumb on the bio-metric reader.
The bunker was eerily quiet, their footsteps echoed in the small hallway. The elevator stood at the end; the ride down felt endless.
“Can never be too careful,” John said as the elevator slowed. Gus nodded.
The elevator doors opened to two guards holding M4 rifles. The guards saluted and stepped aside. Gus and John entered a small room. John pointed Gus to a locker. Gus stripped down and donned a suit he fished out of the locker. The sleek suit fit perfectly. Gus was accustomed to the more bulky design used for spacewalks but he loved this new model.
John grinned at Gus, “Looking good.”
He pointed him to a door. Gus approached it and it slid open automatically. He stepped into a large white spherical room. At the end of it stood the gateway. Two large metallic pillars that emitted a blue light between them.
“Evening Gus. Please proceed to the gateway,” a voice commanded from inside his helmet.
Gus slowly walked towards the pillars and the blue hue. He balled his hands into fits. A film of sweat formed on his forehead. He gulped down hard. Standing in front of the gateway he felt the buzzing energy of the blue light. He reached out his hand towards it. On the other end of this portal was another species. A species that had received instructions beamed into space over 20 years ago. Instructions to build the receiving gateway. Gus was to be the first to make contact with whatever lay on the other side. He always envisioned himself flying to space with a crew. Now he was entering an unknown area of space with nothing more than this suit, his training and hope.
“All suit safety and recording instruments optimal. Gus you are free to enter."
“Affirmative. See you when I get back,” Gus replied.
Gus stuck his head in through the blue light. He saw a vast black expanse with shimmering lights, like the aurora borealis but made up of all colours.
*No going back now*, he thought as he walked into the space. He floated in the black expanse. Looking back he saw the blue light, reassuring himself of his return.
“It’s... it’s beautiful."
“We are getting all feeds Gus,” a voice crackled back.
Out of nowhere hundreds of little white lights appeared in his vision. They zoomed towards him and encircled his body. Gus stretched out his hands towards the lights.
“I’ve made contact.”
The white lights swam along his suit as Gus floated freely in space. A light hovered in front of his visor, pressing right up against it, then it was gone. Gus scrunched his nose as he felt an itch. The lights around him pressed up against his suit. Gus felt a jolt. It felt like a hundred little mosquito bites all at once. The lights were gone.
“You guys getting this?”
“Gus, we aren’t seeing much here, the feeds have cut out. We have collected all the data we need for now. Proceed back to the gate.”
Gus looked out into the expanse one last time. The spectrum of colours shimmered against black space. Gus turned back towards the gate.
Back in the small room he removed the suit. He gasped. His arms had hundreds of white pinpricks all over them.
“Gus. We are quarantining the room. Standard procedure. We will have medical staff out there for you shortly.”
Gus touched the white spots, they felt strange, almost metallic.
Panic started to well up in him. He tried to focus in on his breathing to calm himself but he couldn't take any air in. He tried to yell but no words escaped.
“Gus! We need you to back away from the door!” the speaker commanded.
Gus strained to gain control over his body but it was too late. As if possessed he struck the steel door with his fists, bending it. A loud alarm sounded throughout the bunker.
“Breach in holding area 33. Contamination protocols engaged,” the speaker crackled.
---
[Crossposted](https://steemit.com/fiction/@cizzo/first-contact-short-story-or-sci-fi) on [Steemit](https://steemit.com/@cizzo)
|
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
I know what I am to you. I am a cow.
Not a literal one, to be sure. I'm an average human just like you. Well, I guess not in your eyes.
I know it when you look at my body. The disgust at the excess weight and and flappy rolls. The mockery of my sweat that a little walking could muster. The repulsion at my fast food choices that you seem to have nicknamed cud. You don't think of me as a human, you only see something less.
Therefore, I'm a cow. Something you can lead to the slaughterhouse and butcher for your own gains. Well, let me be the first to tell you:
Fuck you. Does it make you feel mighty, looking down on me? Trying to make me view myself as an animal? Do you really need to pick on me to feel better about yourself?
Fine, I'm a cow, but at least I'm not you. I'm not someone that depends on the suffering of others to get through the day.i have friends that love me, and that's enough for me. You know why you don't have any?
You are a monster.
((I took a less literally approach! 😅))
|
Obviously not an original idea from me, but your prompt sent me barreling down memory lane.
_______________
Moo.
Moo.
I said moo.
Look, I'm just a cow okay?
All right, all right. I'm not really a cow. I don't normally go around like this; but, I was sitting at home minding my own business and all of a sudden these bugs & vines & bulbs & stuff started coming out of the floor... It was horrible! If only I had something normal to wear, it wouldn't be so bad. Hey! Could you go back to my place and get my suit for me? The brown one, not the gray one, that's for evening wear. I'd do it myself, but I don't want anyone seeing me like this. Here, take this, you might need it... To kill those things that have overgrown everything. You can't miss my house. It's just south of the fork in the river... You know... The one with the overgrown vegetable garden.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
As I stared aimlessly forwards, I contemplated life. My surroundings had the potential to be beautiful, but I could not see it. My frustrations limited my sight drastically. I can only see the reasons for my frustrations.
That tree isn't there to provide shade, nourishment and beauty, it is there to encroach upon my already small living space.
The birds singing merrily as they fluttered through the sky, their screeching voices became mocking and taunting. They had experienced life outside of this place, they were rubbing it in.
I jolted from my train of thoughts as I felt something brush against me. I swung my head to the right, only to see my halfwit sister. She was walking backwards, trying to stick her tongue in her nose. What a moron.
Looking at her filled me with despair once again. I surveyed the rest of my cell mates. All of them idiots. Some were my immediately family, some were distant relations. That didn't matter to me, they were all the same.
They were happy and content with life. Not knowing what was beyond the grey solid wall. They were all mindless zombies, following the two-legged creature around. Doing the same thing day in and day out. I was different. I longed for adventure.
I was certain that they could sense I was different. I was gifted with intellect, with smarts. No one else had that. I was the one that would become something. I would be the first to break free of this monotonous life. The others would most likely follow. They don't know how to do anything else.
The frustration of being the only intelligent one here threatened to overwhelm me. I kicked the floor, hoping to release some of it, but only gained pain. I felt the anger and resentment building up inside of me. I saw the two legged creature walking towards me and I knew this was my moment. I knew I had to communicate with it, make it understand that I am not like the others.
I approached the moving wall, waiting for it to come through. As soon as it had, I charged towards it. I could smell the fear it eluded, could see the fear in its eyes. I came to an abrupt stop right in front of it. We stared at eachother for a few seconds. The energy inside me felt almost electric, I knew this was going to be my moment to shine.
As the fear started to fade from its eyes, I gathered all my strength and determination, forcing it to help me communicate with it. Make it see sense. It was flowing through my body, nearly reaching my head. Then it erupted out of me.
"Mooooooo...ooooooooooo."
No. This wasn't meant to happen. Panic started to take over.
"Mooooooo..."
The two legged creature made a croaking noise, which I had worked out was laughter. It was laughing at me. It patted my face and walked off.
Hopelessness washed over me. All of my intellect, all of my cunning, my wit. It accounted for nothing. I was doomed to this life. I realised this now. I am not better than my peers. I am Cow.
|
Obviously not an original idea from me, but your prompt sent me barreling down memory lane.
_______________
Moo.
Moo.
I said moo.
Look, I'm just a cow okay?
All right, all right. I'm not really a cow. I don't normally go around like this; but, I was sitting at home minding my own business and all of a sudden these bugs & vines & bulbs & stuff started coming out of the floor... It was horrible! If only I had something normal to wear, it wouldn't be so bad. Hey! Could you go back to my place and get my suit for me? The brown one, not the gray one, that's for evening wear. I'd do it myself, but I don't want anyone seeing me like this. Here, take this, you might need it... To kill those things that have overgrown everything. You can't miss my house. It's just south of the fork in the river... You know... The one with the overgrown vegetable garden.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
I am a cow. Sometimes I'll escape from my pen after dark. It's easier when there are clouds; it's darker, and I can move unseen. But occasionally, if I feel daring, I'll do it on a moonlit night. The shadows seem deeper then, but in open land I could be spotted at any time. It's so exciting to be where I shouldn't be.
Of course, there isn't *much* risk. Most people are asleep, and those that aren't are indoors, or nearly asleep. A few bakers might still be up, preparing the next day's wares. They take such care to make sure everything is perfect, just as it should be. They don't want anyone or anything to mess with their work. That's why I do it.
i lik the bred
|
Obviously not an original idea from me, but your prompt sent me barreling down memory lane.
_______________
Moo.
Moo.
I said moo.
Look, I'm just a cow okay?
All right, all right. I'm not really a cow. I don't normally go around like this; but, I was sitting at home minding my own business and all of a sudden these bugs & vines & bulbs & stuff started coming out of the floor... It was horrible! If only I had something normal to wear, it wouldn't be so bad. Hey! Could you go back to my place and get my suit for me? The brown one, not the gray one, that's for evening wear. I'd do it myself, but I don't want anyone seeing me like this. Here, take this, you might need it... To kill those things that have overgrown everything. You can't miss my house. It's just south of the fork in the river... You know... The one with the overgrown vegetable garden.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
I am cow, hear me moo. I weigh twice as much as you, and I look good on the barbecue. Yogurt, curd, cream cheese, and butter's made from liquid from my udders. I am cow, I am cow, hear me moo!
I am cow, eating grass. Methane gas comes out my ass, and out my muzzle when I belch. Oh the ozone layer is thinner from the outcome of my dinner. I am cow, I am cow, I've got gas.
I am cow, here I stand, far and wide upon this land, and I am living everywhere. From B.C. to Newfoundland, you can squeeze my teats by hand. I am cow, I am cow, I am cow.
I am cow, I am cow, I am cow!
Courtesy: https://youtu.be/_WFp4kozlOU
|
Obviously not an original idea from me, but your prompt sent me barreling down memory lane.
_______________
Moo.
Moo.
I said moo.
Look, I'm just a cow okay?
All right, all right. I'm not really a cow. I don't normally go around like this; but, I was sitting at home minding my own business and all of a sudden these bugs & vines & bulbs & stuff started coming out of the floor... It was horrible! If only I had something normal to wear, it wouldn't be so bad. Hey! Could you go back to my place and get my suit for me? The brown one, not the gray one, that's for evening wear. I'd do it myself, but I don't want anyone seeing me like this. Here, take this, you might need it... To kill those things that have overgrown everything. You can't miss my house. It's just south of the fork in the river... You know... The one with the overgrown vegetable garden.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
Mooooooooooooo, moo. Moooo! Eat grass. Chew, chew. Other cows all around. Grass to chew. Fart. Moooo. Hello cow friend. Hello baby cow. Moo! Take a few steps. More moo. More grass. Chew and eat. Fly on my butt. Tail swat. Fart. Moooooo! Mooooo! Hot sun in the sky. Drink of water. Lay under a tree. Moo. Hot sun going down. Dark night. Back in the barn. Other cows all around. Hello milk cow. Moooo. Sleepy time.
|
Obviously not an original idea from me, but your prompt sent me barreling down memory lane.
_______________
Moo.
Moo.
I said moo.
Look, I'm just a cow okay?
All right, all right. I'm not really a cow. I don't normally go around like this; but, I was sitting at home minding my own business and all of a sudden these bugs & vines & bulbs & stuff started coming out of the floor... It was horrible! If only I had something normal to wear, it wouldn't be so bad. Hey! Could you go back to my place and get my suit for me? The brown one, not the gray one, that's for evening wear. I'd do it myself, but I don't want anyone seeing me like this. Here, take this, you might need it... To kill those things that have overgrown everything. You can't miss my house. It's just south of the fork in the river... You know... The one with the overgrown vegetable garden.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
Oft overlooked, we cows truly possess a great deal of intellect. So our countless hours spent grazing in a field do little outside of bore us half to death. As a result, when I was finally loaded up into a trailer pulled by a large truck and a road went speeding by, excess exhilaration exploded inside of me. My excitement in this moment knew no bounds. With my head between the bars that made up the walls of this trailer, sticking as far out into the wind-filled air as possible, I took in all of the new smells and feelings with a marvelous sense of wonder.
The radio blared and I heard gruesome stories of an onslaught of murders in Las Vegas. 50 dead. Over 400 injured. This moment reeled me back into reality. We always sought greener pastures. I often envied the humans, with their immense freedoms and luxuries. But moments like these inspired in me a deep welcoming of the life I was born with. While I may not have the freedoms allotted to the average human, I had a safety they would never know. My life was easy. Sleep, rise, eat, sleep. Rinse and repeat. My life was nothing if not safe. As I heard the story of fear and atrocious murder, I thanked the heavens that I as a cow and that I was not a human.
Further we ventured down the road until I felt the truck begin to slow to a stop. Excitedly I looked out of the side to see where we had arrived. A wooden sign hung above a small shop that read: “Joe’s Butcher Shop”.
|
Obviously not an original idea from me, but your prompt sent me barreling down memory lane.
_______________
Moo.
Moo.
I said moo.
Look, I'm just a cow okay?
All right, all right. I'm not really a cow. I don't normally go around like this; but, I was sitting at home minding my own business and all of a sudden these bugs & vines & bulbs & stuff started coming out of the floor... It was horrible! If only I had something normal to wear, it wouldn't be so bad. Hey! Could you go back to my place and get my suit for me? The brown one, not the gray one, that's for evening wear. I'd do it myself, but I don't want anyone seeing me like this. Here, take this, you might need it... To kill those things that have overgrown everything. You can't miss my house. It's just south of the fork in the river... You know... The one with the overgrown vegetable garden.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
"Quack......quack quack quack.......quack quack"
"Moooooo.....mooooooooo......"
"Quack quack quack"
"Mooooooooo......"
It had been six weeks since the vet had diagnosed Laurence with Mad Cow Disease. Phillip had yet to give up hope and figured it was a 90's phase that he was going through.
"Mooooooo....."
"........quack"
Phillip shed a single tear. The friend he knew and loved had become a shadow of his former self.
|
Obviously not an original idea from me, but your prompt sent me barreling down memory lane.
_______________
Moo.
Moo.
I said moo.
Look, I'm just a cow okay?
All right, all right. I'm not really a cow. I don't normally go around like this; but, I was sitting at home minding my own business and all of a sudden these bugs & vines & bulbs & stuff started coming out of the floor... It was horrible! If only I had something normal to wear, it wouldn't be so bad. Hey! Could you go back to my place and get my suit for me? The brown one, not the gray one, that's for evening wear. I'd do it myself, but I don't want anyone seeing me like this. Here, take this, you might need it... To kill those things that have overgrown everything. You can't miss my house. It's just south of the fork in the river... You know... The one with the overgrown vegetable garden.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
Look at them all, filthy pink blobs of flesh ploughing their fields and planting their corn. Bah ! Ignorant fools! Little do they know, that I, Adolf Hitler have been reincarnated as a cow.
I sit here day after day eating my weight in grass, mooing every so often but all the while planning. When I was alive I believed that the Aryans were the master race, I was wrong. IT IS THE BOVINES THAT SHALL REIGHN SUPREME! Yes when I am in charge the humans shall suckle upon the teat of national bovinism and we cows shall laugh as they beg for mercy.
I mean, um, “Moo”.
|
Obviously not an original idea from me, but your prompt sent me barreling down memory lane.
_______________
Moo.
Moo.
I said moo.
Look, I'm just a cow okay?
All right, all right. I'm not really a cow. I don't normally go around like this; but, I was sitting at home minding my own business and all of a sudden these bugs & vines & bulbs & stuff started coming out of the floor... It was horrible! If only I had something normal to wear, it wouldn't be so bad. Hey! Could you go back to my place and get my suit for me? The brown one, not the gray one, that's for evening wear. I'd do it myself, but I don't want anyone seeing me like this. Here, take this, you might need it... To kill those things that have overgrown everything. You can't miss my house. It's just south of the fork in the river... You know... The one with the overgrown vegetable garden.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
^Moo.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
Can you not see.
that I live?
.
in the country.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
The hills are high.
The grass is green.
.
I am headed to be a fat holstein.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
I chew my cud.
I eat my hay.
.
It is the same.
Old.
Damned.
Thing.
Every.
Day.
.
Farmer Brown is not.
What he seems.
.
He gets off.
On milking me.
.
I am a cow.
Can you not see that?
I live!
In the country.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
Get your mind out.
The gutter.
Get your hand off!
.
My udder.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
This old man...
.
He is on crack.
He is a lactophiliac.
.
Nick-Nack.
Paddywack.
Give a dog a bone.
.
What does his wife say.
When she gets.
home.
.
Did you know cows./? ^Can ^yodel?
.
His old wife.
She makes cheese.
Colby.
Jack.
Swiss.
And brie.
.
In the red barn.
.
She can not see.
What he.
loves.
To do.
To.
Me.
.
I am a cow.
Can you not see?
that I live?
in the country.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
Farmer Brown.
He is.
A creep.
How he treats those.
Poor sheep.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
Now you know what.
I go through.
.
I wish.
That I was born.
Hindu.
.
I will pack my bags.
.
And trim my hooves.
.
Adios!
.
I think.
.
I will.
.
^Moo. -ve.
.
------------------------------------
*If, Christopher Walken, was a, cow perhaps?*
|
Obviously not an original idea from me, but your prompt sent me barreling down memory lane.
_______________
Moo.
Moo.
I said moo.
Look, I'm just a cow okay?
All right, all right. I'm not really a cow. I don't normally go around like this; but, I was sitting at home minding my own business and all of a sudden these bugs & vines & bulbs & stuff started coming out of the floor... It was horrible! If only I had something normal to wear, it wouldn't be so bad. Hey! Could you go back to my place and get my suit for me? The brown one, not the gray one, that's for evening wear. I'd do it myself, but I don't want anyone seeing me like this. Here, take this, you might need it... To kill those things that have overgrown everything. You can't miss my house. It's just south of the fork in the river... You know... The one with the overgrown vegetable garden.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
Grass is food. I eat grass and I not die.
Farmer is friend. I not kill farmer and farmer take me to new grass. I eat new grass and I not die.
Sometimes farmer take me to milk square and invisible calves feed, sometimes farmer take me to bed square and visible calves feed.
When visible calves grow they go away. Invisible calves never grow, always hungry.
Old cows sometimes go away. Maybe someday I go away too. I wonder what away is like. Maybe away have better grass.
|
Obviously not an original idea from me, but your prompt sent me barreling down memory lane.
_______________
Moo.
Moo.
I said moo.
Look, I'm just a cow okay?
All right, all right. I'm not really a cow. I don't normally go around like this; but, I was sitting at home minding my own business and all of a sudden these bugs & vines & bulbs & stuff started coming out of the floor... It was horrible! If only I had something normal to wear, it wouldn't be so bad. Hey! Could you go back to my place and get my suit for me? The brown one, not the gray one, that's for evening wear. I'd do it myself, but I don't want anyone seeing me like this. Here, take this, you might need it... To kill those things that have overgrown everything. You can't miss my house. It's just south of the fork in the river... You know... The one with the overgrown vegetable garden.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
I know what I am to you. I am a cow.
Not a literal one, to be sure. I'm an average human just like you. Well, I guess not in your eyes.
I know it when you look at my body. The disgust at the excess weight and and flappy rolls. The mockery of my sweat that a little walking could muster. The repulsion at my fast food choices that you seem to have nicknamed cud. You don't think of me as a human, you only see something less.
Therefore, I'm a cow. Something you can lead to the slaughterhouse and butcher for your own gains. Well, let me be the first to tell you:
Fuck you. Does it make you feel mighty, looking down on me? Trying to make me view myself as an animal? Do you really need to pick on me to feel better about yourself?
Fine, I'm a cow, but at least I'm not you. I'm not someone that depends on the suffering of others to get through the day.i have friends that love me, and that's enough for me. You know why you don't have any?
You are a monster.
((I took a less literally approach! 😅))
|
I am a cow, my owner left me on my own when I stopped making him money. I wander on streets eating anything I find, plastic bags or stale food, anything will do. Yet I am safe, unlike my brethren in other parts of world, I will not be sold for meat. For the love of blood is not bovine, it's the humans they poach, who don't believe in things like they do.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
As I stared aimlessly forwards, I contemplated life. My surroundings had the potential to be beautiful, but I could not see it. My frustrations limited my sight drastically. I can only see the reasons for my frustrations.
That tree isn't there to provide shade, nourishment and beauty, it is there to encroach upon my already small living space.
The birds singing merrily as they fluttered through the sky, their screeching voices became mocking and taunting. They had experienced life outside of this place, they were rubbing it in.
I jolted from my train of thoughts as I felt something brush against me. I swung my head to the right, only to see my halfwit sister. She was walking backwards, trying to stick her tongue in her nose. What a moron.
Looking at her filled me with despair once again. I surveyed the rest of my cell mates. All of them idiots. Some were my immediately family, some were distant relations. That didn't matter to me, they were all the same.
They were happy and content with life. Not knowing what was beyond the grey solid wall. They were all mindless zombies, following the two-legged creature around. Doing the same thing day in and day out. I was different. I longed for adventure.
I was certain that they could sense I was different. I was gifted with intellect, with smarts. No one else had that. I was the one that would become something. I would be the first to break free of this monotonous life. The others would most likely follow. They don't know how to do anything else.
The frustration of being the only intelligent one here threatened to overwhelm me. I kicked the floor, hoping to release some of it, but only gained pain. I felt the anger and resentment building up inside of me. I saw the two legged creature walking towards me and I knew this was my moment. I knew I had to communicate with it, make it understand that I am not like the others.
I approached the moving wall, waiting for it to come through. As soon as it had, I charged towards it. I could smell the fear it eluded, could see the fear in its eyes. I came to an abrupt stop right in front of it. We stared at eachother for a few seconds. The energy inside me felt almost electric, I knew this was going to be my moment to shine.
As the fear started to fade from its eyes, I gathered all my strength and determination, forcing it to help me communicate with it. Make it see sense. It was flowing through my body, nearly reaching my head. Then it erupted out of me.
"Mooooooo...ooooooooooo."
No. This wasn't meant to happen. Panic started to take over.
"Mooooooo..."
The two legged creature made a croaking noise, which I had worked out was laughter. It was laughing at me. It patted my face and walked off.
Hopelessness washed over me. All of my intellect, all of my cunning, my wit. It accounted for nothing. I was doomed to this life. I realised this now. I am not better than my peers. I am Cow.
|
I am a cow, my owner left me on my own when I stopped making him money. I wander on streets eating anything I find, plastic bags or stale food, anything will do. Yet I am safe, unlike my brethren in other parts of world, I will not be sold for meat. For the love of blood is not bovine, it's the humans they poach, who don't believe in things like they do.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
I am a cow. Sometimes I'll escape from my pen after dark. It's easier when there are clouds; it's darker, and I can move unseen. But occasionally, if I feel daring, I'll do it on a moonlit night. The shadows seem deeper then, but in open land I could be spotted at any time. It's so exciting to be where I shouldn't be.
Of course, there isn't *much* risk. Most people are asleep, and those that aren't are indoors, or nearly asleep. A few bakers might still be up, preparing the next day's wares. They take such care to make sure everything is perfect, just as it should be. They don't want anyone or anything to mess with their work. That's why I do it.
i lik the bred
|
I am a cow, my owner left me on my own when I stopped making him money. I wander on streets eating anything I find, plastic bags or stale food, anything will do. Yet I am safe, unlike my brethren in other parts of world, I will not be sold for meat. For the love of blood is not bovine, it's the humans they poach, who don't believe in things like they do.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
I am cow, hear me moo. I weigh twice as much as you, and I look good on the barbecue. Yogurt, curd, cream cheese, and butter's made from liquid from my udders. I am cow, I am cow, hear me moo!
I am cow, eating grass. Methane gas comes out my ass, and out my muzzle when I belch. Oh the ozone layer is thinner from the outcome of my dinner. I am cow, I am cow, I've got gas.
I am cow, here I stand, far and wide upon this land, and I am living everywhere. From B.C. to Newfoundland, you can squeeze my teats by hand. I am cow, I am cow, I am cow.
I am cow, I am cow, I am cow!
Courtesy: https://youtu.be/_WFp4kozlOU
|
I am a cow, my owner left me on my own when I stopped making him money. I wander on streets eating anything I find, plastic bags or stale food, anything will do. Yet I am safe, unlike my brethren in other parts of world, I will not be sold for meat. For the love of blood is not bovine, it's the humans they poach, who don't believe in things like they do.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
Mooooooooooooo, moo. Moooo! Eat grass. Chew, chew. Other cows all around. Grass to chew. Fart. Moooo. Hello cow friend. Hello baby cow. Moo! Take a few steps. More moo. More grass. Chew and eat. Fly on my butt. Tail swat. Fart. Moooooo! Mooooo! Hot sun in the sky. Drink of water. Lay under a tree. Moo. Hot sun going down. Dark night. Back in the barn. Other cows all around. Hello milk cow. Moooo. Sleepy time.
|
I am a cow, my owner left me on my own when I stopped making him money. I wander on streets eating anything I find, plastic bags or stale food, anything will do. Yet I am safe, unlike my brethren in other parts of world, I will not be sold for meat. For the love of blood is not bovine, it's the humans they poach, who don't believe in things like they do.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
"Quack......quack quack quack.......quack quack"
"Moooooo.....mooooooooo......"
"Quack quack quack"
"Mooooooooo......"
It had been six weeks since the vet had diagnosed Laurence with Mad Cow Disease. Phillip had yet to give up hope and figured it was a 90's phase that he was going through.
"Mooooooo....."
"........quack"
Phillip shed a single tear. The friend he knew and loved had become a shadow of his former self.
|
I am a cow, my owner left me on my own when I stopped making him money. I wander on streets eating anything I find, plastic bags or stale food, anything will do. Yet I am safe, unlike my brethren in other parts of world, I will not be sold for meat. For the love of blood is not bovine, it's the humans they poach, who don't believe in things like they do.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
Look at them all, filthy pink blobs of flesh ploughing their fields and planting their corn. Bah ! Ignorant fools! Little do they know, that I, Adolf Hitler have been reincarnated as a cow.
I sit here day after day eating my weight in grass, mooing every so often but all the while planning. When I was alive I believed that the Aryans were the master race, I was wrong. IT IS THE BOVINES THAT SHALL REIGHN SUPREME! Yes when I am in charge the humans shall suckle upon the teat of national bovinism and we cows shall laugh as they beg for mercy.
I mean, um, “Moo”.
|
I am a cow, my owner left me on my own when I stopped making him money. I wander on streets eating anything I find, plastic bags or stale food, anything will do. Yet I am safe, unlike my brethren in other parts of world, I will not be sold for meat. For the love of blood is not bovine, it's the humans they poach, who don't believe in things like they do.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
^Moo.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
Can you not see.
that I live?
.
in the country.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
The hills are high.
The grass is green.
.
I am headed to be a fat holstein.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
I chew my cud.
I eat my hay.
.
It is the same.
Old.
Damned.
Thing.
Every.
Day.
.
Farmer Brown is not.
What he seems.
.
He gets off.
On milking me.
.
I am a cow.
Can you not see that?
I live!
In the country.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
Get your mind out.
The gutter.
Get your hand off!
.
My udder.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
This old man...
.
He is on crack.
He is a lactophiliac.
.
Nick-Nack.
Paddywack.
Give a dog a bone.
.
What does his wife say.
When she gets.
home.
.
Did you know cows./? ^Can ^yodel?
.
His old wife.
She makes cheese.
Colby.
Jack.
Swiss.
And brie.
.
In the red barn.
.
She can not see.
What he.
loves.
To do.
To.
Me.
.
I am a cow.
Can you not see?
that I live?
in the country.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
Farmer Brown.
He is.
A creep.
How he treats those.
Poor sheep.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
Now you know what.
I go through.
.
I wish.
That I was born.
Hindu.
.
I will pack my bags.
.
And trim my hooves.
.
Adios!
.
I think.
.
I will.
.
^Moo. -ve.
.
------------------------------------
*If, Christopher Walken, was a, cow perhaps?*
|
I am a cow, my owner left me on my own when I stopped making him money. I wander on streets eating anything I find, plastic bags or stale food, anything will do. Yet I am safe, unlike my brethren in other parts of world, I will not be sold for meat. For the love of blood is not bovine, it's the humans they poach, who don't believe in things like they do.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
Grass is food. I eat grass and I not die.
Farmer is friend. I not kill farmer and farmer take me to new grass. I eat new grass and I not die.
Sometimes farmer take me to milk square and invisible calves feed, sometimes farmer take me to bed square and visible calves feed.
When visible calves grow they go away. Invisible calves never grow, always hungry.
Old cows sometimes go away. Maybe someday I go away too. I wonder what away is like. Maybe away have better grass.
|
I am a cow, my owner left me on my own when I stopped making him money. I wander on streets eating anything I find, plastic bags or stale food, anything will do. Yet I am safe, unlike my brethren in other parts of world, I will not be sold for meat. For the love of blood is not bovine, it's the humans they poach, who don't believe in things like they do.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
I know what I am to you. I am a cow.
Not a literal one, to be sure. I'm an average human just like you. Well, I guess not in your eyes.
I know it when you look at my body. The disgust at the excess weight and and flappy rolls. The mockery of my sweat that a little walking could muster. The repulsion at my fast food choices that you seem to have nicknamed cud. You don't think of me as a human, you only see something less.
Therefore, I'm a cow. Something you can lead to the slaughterhouse and butcher for your own gains. Well, let me be the first to tell you:
Fuck you. Does it make you feel mighty, looking down on me? Trying to make me view myself as an animal? Do you really need to pick on me to feel better about yourself?
Fine, I'm a cow, but at least I'm not you. I'm not someone that depends on the suffering of others to get through the day.i have friends that love me, and that's enough for me. You know why you don't have any?
You are a monster.
((I took a less literally approach! 😅))
|
MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooOoooOOOooooooOoOOooooooooOOOOOooo
(I'm 72 in cow years now, my father died 62 I feel like so much of the life is wasted on grazing and staring at cars driving by and looking at the farmer grazing staring at the cars looking at the farmer grazing staring at the cars looking at the farmer, so it is, so it has been.
Till Moooork came along, a calf, not 15, with a cold look in his eyes told me "You're gonna die soon" appalled at what I heard, I did what all cows who've heard this do.
I RAN FOR THE GODDAMN HILLS.
At least to the fence...I stood there, staring at the cars. Calming down, "he's 15" I said to myself, he can't possibly know anything, i tried centering myself by grazing but it was futile. I stared at the cars till i felt i could go back to the heard but what I heard rattle me to the bone as I turned and saw the heard running towards me. In the distance, fire. The barn had become an inferno in the time i was isolated and the farmer's flaming body rest outside his home. Infront of that, his dog. Infront of that, Moooork. Eye's glowing yellow, suspended 50 cow feet in the air, he mooed and all the cows running from the inferno vaporized in a radius around him, leaving some half-so, and others severely injured trying to crawl towards me. Moooork started hovering towards me or growing in size all I knew was he was getting bigger, I turned, and did what killed my father.
I TRIED TO JUMP THE FENCE.
I closed my eyes, ran jumped, and gasped as my hooves hit soil, I ran, not stopping to look at Moooork, or to graze, or to look at the farmer or stare at the cars. I ran towards the cars.
Crossing the intersection with no cars coming was pure karma. I ran across two hard soil strips and upon touching soil on the second I heard Moooork again. Mooing, eliminating the obstacles in his wake instantly, I kept running, remembering the stories dad told me.
HE SAID I WAS MAGIC.
I thought now was a weird time to trust my alcoholic father, but decided it'd be worth the trouble, it was that or a vaporizing moo, I turned to Moooork, as I did so he mooed.
I mooed.
I died.
He won.
Moooork is now on his path of desolation, Moood help us. Deliver us from this evil.
Bless your poor unfortunate souls.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
As I stared aimlessly forwards, I contemplated life. My surroundings had the potential to be beautiful, but I could not see it. My frustrations limited my sight drastically. I can only see the reasons for my frustrations.
That tree isn't there to provide shade, nourishment and beauty, it is there to encroach upon my already small living space.
The birds singing merrily as they fluttered through the sky, their screeching voices became mocking and taunting. They had experienced life outside of this place, they were rubbing it in.
I jolted from my train of thoughts as I felt something brush against me. I swung my head to the right, only to see my halfwit sister. She was walking backwards, trying to stick her tongue in her nose. What a moron.
Looking at her filled me with despair once again. I surveyed the rest of my cell mates. All of them idiots. Some were my immediately family, some were distant relations. That didn't matter to me, they were all the same.
They were happy and content with life. Not knowing what was beyond the grey solid wall. They were all mindless zombies, following the two-legged creature around. Doing the same thing day in and day out. I was different. I longed for adventure.
I was certain that they could sense I was different. I was gifted with intellect, with smarts. No one else had that. I was the one that would become something. I would be the first to break free of this monotonous life. The others would most likely follow. They don't know how to do anything else.
The frustration of being the only intelligent one here threatened to overwhelm me. I kicked the floor, hoping to release some of it, but only gained pain. I felt the anger and resentment building up inside of me. I saw the two legged creature walking towards me and I knew this was my moment. I knew I had to communicate with it, make it understand that I am not like the others.
I approached the moving wall, waiting for it to come through. As soon as it had, I charged towards it. I could smell the fear it eluded, could see the fear in its eyes. I came to an abrupt stop right in front of it. We stared at eachother for a few seconds. The energy inside me felt almost electric, I knew this was going to be my moment to shine.
As the fear started to fade from its eyes, I gathered all my strength and determination, forcing it to help me communicate with it. Make it see sense. It was flowing through my body, nearly reaching my head. Then it erupted out of me.
"Mooooooo...ooooooooooo."
No. This wasn't meant to happen. Panic started to take over.
"Mooooooo..."
The two legged creature made a croaking noise, which I had worked out was laughter. It was laughing at me. It patted my face and walked off.
Hopelessness washed over me. All of my intellect, all of my cunning, my wit. It accounted for nothing. I was doomed to this life. I realised this now. I am not better than my peers. I am Cow.
|
MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooOoooOOOooooooOoOOooooooooOOOOOooo
(I'm 72 in cow years now, my father died 62 I feel like so much of the life is wasted on grazing and staring at cars driving by and looking at the farmer grazing staring at the cars looking at the farmer grazing staring at the cars looking at the farmer, so it is, so it has been.
Till Moooork came along, a calf, not 15, with a cold look in his eyes told me "You're gonna die soon" appalled at what I heard, I did what all cows who've heard this do.
I RAN FOR THE GODDAMN HILLS.
At least to the fence...I stood there, staring at the cars. Calming down, "he's 15" I said to myself, he can't possibly know anything, i tried centering myself by grazing but it was futile. I stared at the cars till i felt i could go back to the heard but what I heard rattle me to the bone as I turned and saw the heard running towards me. In the distance, fire. The barn had become an inferno in the time i was isolated and the farmer's flaming body rest outside his home. Infront of that, his dog. Infront of that, Moooork. Eye's glowing yellow, suspended 50 cow feet in the air, he mooed and all the cows running from the inferno vaporized in a radius around him, leaving some half-so, and others severely injured trying to crawl towards me. Moooork started hovering towards me or growing in size all I knew was he was getting bigger, I turned, and did what killed my father.
I TRIED TO JUMP THE FENCE.
I closed my eyes, ran jumped, and gasped as my hooves hit soil, I ran, not stopping to look at Moooork, or to graze, or to look at the farmer or stare at the cars. I ran towards the cars.
Crossing the intersection with no cars coming was pure karma. I ran across two hard soil strips and upon touching soil on the second I heard Moooork again. Mooing, eliminating the obstacles in his wake instantly, I kept running, remembering the stories dad told me.
HE SAID I WAS MAGIC.
I thought now was a weird time to trust my alcoholic father, but decided it'd be worth the trouble, it was that or a vaporizing moo, I turned to Moooork, as I did so he mooed.
I mooed.
I died.
He won.
Moooork is now on his path of desolation, Moood help us. Deliver us from this evil.
Bless your poor unfortunate souls.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
I am a cow. Sometimes I'll escape from my pen after dark. It's easier when there are clouds; it's darker, and I can move unseen. But occasionally, if I feel daring, I'll do it on a moonlit night. The shadows seem deeper then, but in open land I could be spotted at any time. It's so exciting to be where I shouldn't be.
Of course, there isn't *much* risk. Most people are asleep, and those that aren't are indoors, or nearly asleep. A few bakers might still be up, preparing the next day's wares. They take such care to make sure everything is perfect, just as it should be. They don't want anyone or anything to mess with their work. That's why I do it.
i lik the bred
|
MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooOoooOOOooooooOoOOooooooooOOOOOooo
(I'm 72 in cow years now, my father died 62 I feel like so much of the life is wasted on grazing and staring at cars driving by and looking at the farmer grazing staring at the cars looking at the farmer grazing staring at the cars looking at the farmer, so it is, so it has been.
Till Moooork came along, a calf, not 15, with a cold look in his eyes told me "You're gonna die soon" appalled at what I heard, I did what all cows who've heard this do.
I RAN FOR THE GODDAMN HILLS.
At least to the fence...I stood there, staring at the cars. Calming down, "he's 15" I said to myself, he can't possibly know anything, i tried centering myself by grazing but it was futile. I stared at the cars till i felt i could go back to the heard but what I heard rattle me to the bone as I turned and saw the heard running towards me. In the distance, fire. The barn had become an inferno in the time i was isolated and the farmer's flaming body rest outside his home. Infront of that, his dog. Infront of that, Moooork. Eye's glowing yellow, suspended 50 cow feet in the air, he mooed and all the cows running from the inferno vaporized in a radius around him, leaving some half-so, and others severely injured trying to crawl towards me. Moooork started hovering towards me or growing in size all I knew was he was getting bigger, I turned, and did what killed my father.
I TRIED TO JUMP THE FENCE.
I closed my eyes, ran jumped, and gasped as my hooves hit soil, I ran, not stopping to look at Moooork, or to graze, or to look at the farmer or stare at the cars. I ran towards the cars.
Crossing the intersection with no cars coming was pure karma. I ran across two hard soil strips and upon touching soil on the second I heard Moooork again. Mooing, eliminating the obstacles in his wake instantly, I kept running, remembering the stories dad told me.
HE SAID I WAS MAGIC.
I thought now was a weird time to trust my alcoholic father, but decided it'd be worth the trouble, it was that or a vaporizing moo, I turned to Moooork, as I did so he mooed.
I mooed.
I died.
He won.
Moooork is now on his path of desolation, Moood help us. Deliver us from this evil.
Bless your poor unfortunate souls.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
I am cow, hear me moo. I weigh twice as much as you, and I look good on the barbecue. Yogurt, curd, cream cheese, and butter's made from liquid from my udders. I am cow, I am cow, hear me moo!
I am cow, eating grass. Methane gas comes out my ass, and out my muzzle when I belch. Oh the ozone layer is thinner from the outcome of my dinner. I am cow, I am cow, I've got gas.
I am cow, here I stand, far and wide upon this land, and I am living everywhere. From B.C. to Newfoundland, you can squeeze my teats by hand. I am cow, I am cow, I am cow.
I am cow, I am cow, I am cow!
Courtesy: https://youtu.be/_WFp4kozlOU
|
MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooOoooOOOooooooOoOOooooooooOOOOOooo
(I'm 72 in cow years now, my father died 62 I feel like so much of the life is wasted on grazing and staring at cars driving by and looking at the farmer grazing staring at the cars looking at the farmer grazing staring at the cars looking at the farmer, so it is, so it has been.
Till Moooork came along, a calf, not 15, with a cold look in his eyes told me "You're gonna die soon" appalled at what I heard, I did what all cows who've heard this do.
I RAN FOR THE GODDAMN HILLS.
At least to the fence...I stood there, staring at the cars. Calming down, "he's 15" I said to myself, he can't possibly know anything, i tried centering myself by grazing but it was futile. I stared at the cars till i felt i could go back to the heard but what I heard rattle me to the bone as I turned and saw the heard running towards me. In the distance, fire. The barn had become an inferno in the time i was isolated and the farmer's flaming body rest outside his home. Infront of that, his dog. Infront of that, Moooork. Eye's glowing yellow, suspended 50 cow feet in the air, he mooed and all the cows running from the inferno vaporized in a radius around him, leaving some half-so, and others severely injured trying to crawl towards me. Moooork started hovering towards me or growing in size all I knew was he was getting bigger, I turned, and did what killed my father.
I TRIED TO JUMP THE FENCE.
I closed my eyes, ran jumped, and gasped as my hooves hit soil, I ran, not stopping to look at Moooork, or to graze, or to look at the farmer or stare at the cars. I ran towards the cars.
Crossing the intersection with no cars coming was pure karma. I ran across two hard soil strips and upon touching soil on the second I heard Moooork again. Mooing, eliminating the obstacles in his wake instantly, I kept running, remembering the stories dad told me.
HE SAID I WAS MAGIC.
I thought now was a weird time to trust my alcoholic father, but decided it'd be worth the trouble, it was that or a vaporizing moo, I turned to Moooork, as I did so he mooed.
I mooed.
I died.
He won.
Moooork is now on his path of desolation, Moood help us. Deliver us from this evil.
Bless your poor unfortunate souls.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
"Quack......quack quack quack.......quack quack"
"Moooooo.....mooooooooo......"
"Quack quack quack"
"Mooooooooo......"
It had been six weeks since the vet had diagnosed Laurence with Mad Cow Disease. Phillip had yet to give up hope and figured it was a 90's phase that he was going through.
"Mooooooo....."
"........quack"
Phillip shed a single tear. The friend he knew and loved had become a shadow of his former self.
|
MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooOoooOOOooooooOoOOooooooooOOOOOooo
(I'm 72 in cow years now, my father died 62 I feel like so much of the life is wasted on grazing and staring at cars driving by and looking at the farmer grazing staring at the cars looking at the farmer grazing staring at the cars looking at the farmer, so it is, so it has been.
Till Moooork came along, a calf, not 15, with a cold look in his eyes told me "You're gonna die soon" appalled at what I heard, I did what all cows who've heard this do.
I RAN FOR THE GODDAMN HILLS.
At least to the fence...I stood there, staring at the cars. Calming down, "he's 15" I said to myself, he can't possibly know anything, i tried centering myself by grazing but it was futile. I stared at the cars till i felt i could go back to the heard but what I heard rattle me to the bone as I turned and saw the heard running towards me. In the distance, fire. The barn had become an inferno in the time i was isolated and the farmer's flaming body rest outside his home. Infront of that, his dog. Infront of that, Moooork. Eye's glowing yellow, suspended 50 cow feet in the air, he mooed and all the cows running from the inferno vaporized in a radius around him, leaving some half-so, and others severely injured trying to crawl towards me. Moooork started hovering towards me or growing in size all I knew was he was getting bigger, I turned, and did what killed my father.
I TRIED TO JUMP THE FENCE.
I closed my eyes, ran jumped, and gasped as my hooves hit soil, I ran, not stopping to look at Moooork, or to graze, or to look at the farmer or stare at the cars. I ran towards the cars.
Crossing the intersection with no cars coming was pure karma. I ran across two hard soil strips and upon touching soil on the second I heard Moooork again. Mooing, eliminating the obstacles in his wake instantly, I kept running, remembering the stories dad told me.
HE SAID I WAS MAGIC.
I thought now was a weird time to trust my alcoholic father, but decided it'd be worth the trouble, it was that or a vaporizing moo, I turned to Moooork, as I did so he mooed.
I mooed.
I died.
He won.
Moooork is now on his path of desolation, Moood help us. Deliver us from this evil.
Bless your poor unfortunate souls.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
Look at them all, filthy pink blobs of flesh ploughing their fields and planting their corn. Bah ! Ignorant fools! Little do they know, that I, Adolf Hitler have been reincarnated as a cow.
I sit here day after day eating my weight in grass, mooing every so often but all the while planning. When I was alive I believed that the Aryans were the master race, I was wrong. IT IS THE BOVINES THAT SHALL REIGHN SUPREME! Yes when I am in charge the humans shall suckle upon the teat of national bovinism and we cows shall laugh as they beg for mercy.
I mean, um, “Moo”.
|
MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooOoooOOOooooooOoOOooooooooOOOOOooo
(I'm 72 in cow years now, my father died 62 I feel like so much of the life is wasted on grazing and staring at cars driving by and looking at the farmer grazing staring at the cars looking at the farmer grazing staring at the cars looking at the farmer, so it is, so it has been.
Till Moooork came along, a calf, not 15, with a cold look in his eyes told me "You're gonna die soon" appalled at what I heard, I did what all cows who've heard this do.
I RAN FOR THE GODDAMN HILLS.
At least to the fence...I stood there, staring at the cars. Calming down, "he's 15" I said to myself, he can't possibly know anything, i tried centering myself by grazing but it was futile. I stared at the cars till i felt i could go back to the heard but what I heard rattle me to the bone as I turned and saw the heard running towards me. In the distance, fire. The barn had become an inferno in the time i was isolated and the farmer's flaming body rest outside his home. Infront of that, his dog. Infront of that, Moooork. Eye's glowing yellow, suspended 50 cow feet in the air, he mooed and all the cows running from the inferno vaporized in a radius around him, leaving some half-so, and others severely injured trying to crawl towards me. Moooork started hovering towards me or growing in size all I knew was he was getting bigger, I turned, and did what killed my father.
I TRIED TO JUMP THE FENCE.
I closed my eyes, ran jumped, and gasped as my hooves hit soil, I ran, not stopping to look at Moooork, or to graze, or to look at the farmer or stare at the cars. I ran towards the cars.
Crossing the intersection with no cars coming was pure karma. I ran across two hard soil strips and upon touching soil on the second I heard Moooork again. Mooing, eliminating the obstacles in his wake instantly, I kept running, remembering the stories dad told me.
HE SAID I WAS MAGIC.
I thought now was a weird time to trust my alcoholic father, but decided it'd be worth the trouble, it was that or a vaporizing moo, I turned to Moooork, as I did so he mooed.
I mooed.
I died.
He won.
Moooork is now on his path of desolation, Moood help us. Deliver us from this evil.
Bless your poor unfortunate souls.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
^Moo.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
Can you not see.
that I live?
.
in the country.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
The hills are high.
The grass is green.
.
I am headed to be a fat holstein.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
I chew my cud.
I eat my hay.
.
It is the same.
Old.
Damned.
Thing.
Every.
Day.
.
Farmer Brown is not.
What he seems.
.
He gets off.
On milking me.
.
I am a cow.
Can you not see that?
I live!
In the country.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
Get your mind out.
The gutter.
Get your hand off!
.
My udder.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
This old man...
.
He is on crack.
He is a lactophiliac.
.
Nick-Nack.
Paddywack.
Give a dog a bone.
.
What does his wife say.
When she gets.
home.
.
Did you know cows./? ^Can ^yodel?
.
His old wife.
She makes cheese.
Colby.
Jack.
Swiss.
And brie.
.
In the red barn.
.
She can not see.
What he.
loves.
To do.
To.
Me.
.
I am a cow.
Can you not see?
that I live?
in the country.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
Farmer Brown.
He is.
A creep.
How he treats those.
Poor sheep.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
Now you know what.
I go through.
.
I wish.
That I was born.
Hindu.
.
I will pack my bags.
.
And trim my hooves.
.
Adios!
.
I think.
.
I will.
.
^Moo. -ve.
.
------------------------------------
*If, Christopher Walken, was a, cow perhaps?*
|
MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooOoooOOOooooooOoOOooooooooOOOOOooo
(I'm 72 in cow years now, my father died 62 I feel like so much of the life is wasted on grazing and staring at cars driving by and looking at the farmer grazing staring at the cars looking at the farmer grazing staring at the cars looking at the farmer, so it is, so it has been.
Till Moooork came along, a calf, not 15, with a cold look in his eyes told me "You're gonna die soon" appalled at what I heard, I did what all cows who've heard this do.
I RAN FOR THE GODDAMN HILLS.
At least to the fence...I stood there, staring at the cars. Calming down, "he's 15" I said to myself, he can't possibly know anything, i tried centering myself by grazing but it was futile. I stared at the cars till i felt i could go back to the heard but what I heard rattle me to the bone as I turned and saw the heard running towards me. In the distance, fire. The barn had become an inferno in the time i was isolated and the farmer's flaming body rest outside his home. Infront of that, his dog. Infront of that, Moooork. Eye's glowing yellow, suspended 50 cow feet in the air, he mooed and all the cows running from the inferno vaporized in a radius around him, leaving some half-so, and others severely injured trying to crawl towards me. Moooork started hovering towards me or growing in size all I knew was he was getting bigger, I turned, and did what killed my father.
I TRIED TO JUMP THE FENCE.
I closed my eyes, ran jumped, and gasped as my hooves hit soil, I ran, not stopping to look at Moooork, or to graze, or to look at the farmer or stare at the cars. I ran towards the cars.
Crossing the intersection with no cars coming was pure karma. I ran across two hard soil strips and upon touching soil on the second I heard Moooork again. Mooing, eliminating the obstacles in his wake instantly, I kept running, remembering the stories dad told me.
HE SAID I WAS MAGIC.
I thought now was a weird time to trust my alcoholic father, but decided it'd be worth the trouble, it was that or a vaporizing moo, I turned to Moooork, as I did so he mooed.
I mooed.
I died.
He won.
Moooork is now on his path of desolation, Moood help us. Deliver us from this evil.
Bless your poor unfortunate souls.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
I know what I am to you. I am a cow.
Not a literal one, to be sure. I'm an average human just like you. Well, I guess not in your eyes.
I know it when you look at my body. The disgust at the excess weight and and flappy rolls. The mockery of my sweat that a little walking could muster. The repulsion at my fast food choices that you seem to have nicknamed cud. You don't think of me as a human, you only see something less.
Therefore, I'm a cow. Something you can lead to the slaughterhouse and butcher for your own gains. Well, let me be the first to tell you:
Fuck you. Does it make you feel mighty, looking down on me? Trying to make me view myself as an animal? Do you really need to pick on me to feel better about yourself?
Fine, I'm a cow, but at least I'm not you. I'm not someone that depends on the suffering of others to get through the day.i have friends that love me, and that's enough for me. You know why you don't have any?
You are a monster.
((I took a less literally approach! 😅))
|
'Chomp chomp motherfuckers, The Sickleman's on break again!'
That's Vache, my best friend. The others cows nod briskly and get to work chewing the delicious cud momentarily left exposed. Vache trundled over to my patch of grass and nudged me somewhere between my fourth and eight nipple. Vache liked nudging me there.
'Did you fall from heaven, because you look like an angel', Vache mumbled for the eighth time that week.
'Fuck off, Vache, life doesn't mean anything and we're all going to die.'
'Sure thing, see you tomorrow beau-... Vaca.'
We met three harvests ago and have gotten along ever since. His dry wit stood apart from the vacuous minds of the other cows, but barley made an impression on them. For me, he was the incentive to get up in the morning and trundle around aimlessly, knowing that our endgame was the stomach of lazy Sicklemen.
But then again, he was just a cow.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
I am cow, hear me moo. I weigh twice as much as you, and I look good on the barbecue. Yogurt, curd, cream cheese, and butter's made from liquid from my udders. I am cow, I am cow, hear me moo!
I am cow, eating grass. Methane gas comes out my ass, and out my muzzle when I belch. Oh the ozone layer is thinner from the outcome of my dinner. I am cow, I am cow, I've got gas.
I am cow, here I stand, far and wide upon this land, and I am living everywhere. From B.C. to Newfoundland, you can squeeze my teats by hand. I am cow, I am cow, I am cow.
I am cow, I am cow, I am cow!
Courtesy: https://youtu.be/_WFp4kozlOU
|
'Chomp chomp motherfuckers, The Sickleman's on break again!'
That's Vache, my best friend. The others cows nod briskly and get to work chewing the delicious cud momentarily left exposed. Vache trundled over to my patch of grass and nudged me somewhere between my fourth and eight nipple. Vache liked nudging me there.
'Did you fall from heaven, because you look like an angel', Vache mumbled for the eighth time that week.
'Fuck off, Vache, life doesn't mean anything and we're all going to die.'
'Sure thing, see you tomorrow beau-... Vaca.'
We met three harvests ago and have gotten along ever since. His dry wit stood apart from the vacuous minds of the other cows, but barley made an impression on them. For me, he was the incentive to get up in the morning and trundle around aimlessly, knowing that our endgame was the stomach of lazy Sicklemen.
But then again, he was just a cow.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
Look at them all, filthy pink blobs of flesh ploughing their fields and planting their corn. Bah ! Ignorant fools! Little do they know, that I, Adolf Hitler have been reincarnated as a cow.
I sit here day after day eating my weight in grass, mooing every so often but all the while planning. When I was alive I believed that the Aryans were the master race, I was wrong. IT IS THE BOVINES THAT SHALL REIGHN SUPREME! Yes when I am in charge the humans shall suckle upon the teat of national bovinism and we cows shall laugh as they beg for mercy.
I mean, um, “Moo”.
|
'Chomp chomp motherfuckers, The Sickleman's on break again!'
That's Vache, my best friend. The others cows nod briskly and get to work chewing the delicious cud momentarily left exposed. Vache trundled over to my patch of grass and nudged me somewhere between my fourth and eight nipple. Vache liked nudging me there.
'Did you fall from heaven, because you look like an angel', Vache mumbled for the eighth time that week.
'Fuck off, Vache, life doesn't mean anything and we're all going to die.'
'Sure thing, see you tomorrow beau-... Vaca.'
We met three harvests ago and have gotten along ever since. His dry wit stood apart from the vacuous minds of the other cows, but barley made an impression on them. For me, he was the incentive to get up in the morning and trundle around aimlessly, knowing that our endgame was the stomach of lazy Sicklemen.
But then again, he was just a cow.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
I know what I am to you. I am a cow.
Not a literal one, to be sure. I'm an average human just like you. Well, I guess not in your eyes.
I know it when you look at my body. The disgust at the excess weight and and flappy rolls. The mockery of my sweat that a little walking could muster. The repulsion at my fast food choices that you seem to have nicknamed cud. You don't think of me as a human, you only see something less.
Therefore, I'm a cow. Something you can lead to the slaughterhouse and butcher for your own gains. Well, let me be the first to tell you:
Fuck you. Does it make you feel mighty, looking down on me? Trying to make me view myself as an animal? Do you really need to pick on me to feel better about yourself?
Fine, I'm a cow, but at least I'm not you. I'm not someone that depends on the suffering of others to get through the day.i have friends that love me, and that's enough for me. You know why you don't have any?
You are a monster.
((I took a less literally approach! 😅))
|
The morning light woke me. It was still early, but you could tell already that it would be a beautiful day. I rose from the ground, and saw that a few of my cow friends were already awake.
I had always loved the summers. Fresh air, being able to move freely, eating fresh grass, sleeping beneath the stars. What more could a cow ask for? It was always with a heavy heart we would have to leave the green fields when autumn came, and move into the Great Hall. The Hall was never cosy, or comfortable. But at least we had food, and we had warmth when the icy winds were blowing outside.
I walked over to my friends as they were eating. They were talking about the main thing that happened every year. And yesterday it had happened again. We called it the Voyage. Five of our sisters had been chosen for it, to enter that glorious carriage and ride off into the sunset to be in paradise with our goddess, Ah-Moo. To run across those green Everfields, and eat the most delicious grass you could ever imagine.
Yes, I live a good life. I have food, friends, and warmth during the winter. I have never taken it for granted. But still, I would lie if I said that I weren't jealous of my friends, who get to spend eternity with Ah-Moo. And I hope that one day I too will be chosen for the Voyage.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
I am cow, hear me moo. I weigh twice as much as you, and I look good on the barbecue. Yogurt, curd, cream cheese, and butter's made from liquid from my udders. I am cow, I am cow, hear me moo!
I am cow, eating grass. Methane gas comes out my ass, and out my muzzle when I belch. Oh the ozone layer is thinner from the outcome of my dinner. I am cow, I am cow, I've got gas.
I am cow, here I stand, far and wide upon this land, and I am living everywhere. From B.C. to Newfoundland, you can squeeze my teats by hand. I am cow, I am cow, I am cow.
I am cow, I am cow, I am cow!
Courtesy: https://youtu.be/_WFp4kozlOU
|
The morning light woke me. It was still early, but you could tell already that it would be a beautiful day. I rose from the ground, and saw that a few of my cow friends were already awake.
I had always loved the summers. Fresh air, being able to move freely, eating fresh grass, sleeping beneath the stars. What more could a cow ask for? It was always with a heavy heart we would have to leave the green fields when autumn came, and move into the Great Hall. The Hall was never cosy, or comfortable. But at least we had food, and we had warmth when the icy winds were blowing outside.
I walked over to my friends as they were eating. They were talking about the main thing that happened every year. And yesterday it had happened again. We called it the Voyage. Five of our sisters had been chosen for it, to enter that glorious carriage and ride off into the sunset to be in paradise with our goddess, Ah-Moo. To run across those green Everfields, and eat the most delicious grass you could ever imagine.
Yes, I live a good life. I have food, friends, and warmth during the winter. I have never taken it for granted. But still, I would lie if I said that I weren't jealous of my friends, who get to spend eternity with Ah-Moo. And I hope that one day I too will be chosen for the Voyage.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
Look at them all, filthy pink blobs of flesh ploughing their fields and planting their corn. Bah ! Ignorant fools! Little do they know, that I, Adolf Hitler have been reincarnated as a cow.
I sit here day after day eating my weight in grass, mooing every so often but all the while planning. When I was alive I believed that the Aryans were the master race, I was wrong. IT IS THE BOVINES THAT SHALL REIGHN SUPREME! Yes when I am in charge the humans shall suckle upon the teat of national bovinism and we cows shall laugh as they beg for mercy.
I mean, um, “Moo”.
|
The morning light woke me. It was still early, but you could tell already that it would be a beautiful day. I rose from the ground, and saw that a few of my cow friends were already awake.
I had always loved the summers. Fresh air, being able to move freely, eating fresh grass, sleeping beneath the stars. What more could a cow ask for? It was always with a heavy heart we would have to leave the green fields when autumn came, and move into the Great Hall. The Hall was never cosy, or comfortable. But at least we had food, and we had warmth when the icy winds were blowing outside.
I walked over to my friends as they were eating. They were talking about the main thing that happened every year. And yesterday it had happened again. We called it the Voyage. Five of our sisters had been chosen for it, to enter that glorious carriage and ride off into the sunset to be in paradise with our goddess, Ah-Moo. To run across those green Everfields, and eat the most delicious grass you could ever imagine.
Yes, I live a good life. I have food, friends, and warmth during the winter. I have never taken it for granted. But still, I would lie if I said that I weren't jealous of my friends, who get to spend eternity with Ah-Moo. And I hope that one day I too will be chosen for the Voyage.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
I am cow, hear me moo. I weigh twice as much as you, and I look good on the barbecue. Yogurt, curd, cream cheese, and butter's made from liquid from my udders. I am cow, I am cow, hear me moo!
I am cow, eating grass. Methane gas comes out my ass, and out my muzzle when I belch. Oh the ozone layer is thinner from the outcome of my dinner. I am cow, I am cow, I've got gas.
I am cow, here I stand, far and wide upon this land, and I am living everywhere. From B.C. to Newfoundland, you can squeeze my teats by hand. I am cow, I am cow, I am cow.
I am cow, I am cow, I am cow!
Courtesy: https://youtu.be/_WFp4kozlOU
|
I know what I am to you. I am a cow.
Not a literal one, to be sure. I'm an average human just like you. Well, I guess not in your eyes.
I know it when you look at my body. The disgust at the excess weight and and flappy rolls. The mockery of my sweat that a little walking could muster. The repulsion at my fast food choices that you seem to have nicknamed cud. You don't think of me as a human, you only see something less.
Therefore, I'm a cow. Something you can lead to the slaughterhouse and butcher for your own gains. Well, let me be the first to tell you:
Fuck you. Does it make you feel mighty, looking down on me? Trying to make me view myself as an animal? Do you really need to pick on me to feel better about yourself?
Fine, I'm a cow, but at least I'm not you. I'm not someone that depends on the suffering of others to get through the day.i have friends that love me, and that's enough for me. You know why you don't have any?
You are a monster.
((I took a less literally approach! 😅))
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
Look at them all, filthy pink blobs of flesh ploughing their fields and planting their corn. Bah ! Ignorant fools! Little do they know, that I, Adolf Hitler have been reincarnated as a cow.
I sit here day after day eating my weight in grass, mooing every so often but all the while planning. When I was alive I believed that the Aryans were the master race, I was wrong. IT IS THE BOVINES THAT SHALL REIGHN SUPREME! Yes when I am in charge the humans shall suckle upon the teat of national bovinism and we cows shall laugh as they beg for mercy.
I mean, um, “Moo”.
|
I know what I am to you. I am a cow.
Not a literal one, to be sure. I'm an average human just like you. Well, I guess not in your eyes.
I know it when you look at my body. The disgust at the excess weight and and flappy rolls. The mockery of my sweat that a little walking could muster. The repulsion at my fast food choices that you seem to have nicknamed cud. You don't think of me as a human, you only see something less.
Therefore, I'm a cow. Something you can lead to the slaughterhouse and butcher for your own gains. Well, let me be the first to tell you:
Fuck you. Does it make you feel mighty, looking down on me? Trying to make me view myself as an animal? Do you really need to pick on me to feel better about yourself?
Fine, I'm a cow, but at least I'm not you. I'm not someone that depends on the suffering of others to get through the day.i have friends that love me, and that's enough for me. You know why you don't have any?
You are a monster.
((I took a less literally approach! 😅))
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
I am a cow. Sometimes I'll escape from my pen after dark. It's easier when there are clouds; it's darker, and I can move unseen. But occasionally, if I feel daring, I'll do it on a moonlit night. The shadows seem deeper then, but in open land I could be spotted at any time. It's so exciting to be where I shouldn't be.
Of course, there isn't *much* risk. Most people are asleep, and those that aren't are indoors, or nearly asleep. A few bakers might still be up, preparing the next day's wares. They take such care to make sure everything is perfect, just as it should be. They don't want anyone or anything to mess with their work. That's why I do it.
i lik the bred
|
As I stared aimlessly forwards, I contemplated life. My surroundings had the potential to be beautiful, but I could not see it. My frustrations limited my sight drastically. I can only see the reasons for my frustrations.
That tree isn't there to provide shade, nourishment and beauty, it is there to encroach upon my already small living space.
The birds singing merrily as they fluttered through the sky, their screeching voices became mocking and taunting. They had experienced life outside of this place, they were rubbing it in.
I jolted from my train of thoughts as I felt something brush against me. I swung my head to the right, only to see my halfwit sister. She was walking backwards, trying to stick her tongue in her nose. What a moron.
Looking at her filled me with despair once again. I surveyed the rest of my cell mates. All of them idiots. Some were my immediately family, some were distant relations. That didn't matter to me, they were all the same.
They were happy and content with life. Not knowing what was beyond the grey solid wall. They were all mindless zombies, following the two-legged creature around. Doing the same thing day in and day out. I was different. I longed for adventure.
I was certain that they could sense I was different. I was gifted with intellect, with smarts. No one else had that. I was the one that would become something. I would be the first to break free of this monotonous life. The others would most likely follow. They don't know how to do anything else.
The frustration of being the only intelligent one here threatened to overwhelm me. I kicked the floor, hoping to release some of it, but only gained pain. I felt the anger and resentment building up inside of me. I saw the two legged creature walking towards me and I knew this was my moment. I knew I had to communicate with it, make it understand that I am not like the others.
I approached the moving wall, waiting for it to come through. As soon as it had, I charged towards it. I could smell the fear it eluded, could see the fear in its eyes. I came to an abrupt stop right in front of it. We stared at eachother for a few seconds. The energy inside me felt almost electric, I knew this was going to be my moment to shine.
As the fear started to fade from its eyes, I gathered all my strength and determination, forcing it to help me communicate with it. Make it see sense. It was flowing through my body, nearly reaching my head. Then it erupted out of me.
"Mooooooo...ooooooooooo."
No. This wasn't meant to happen. Panic started to take over.
"Mooooooo..."
The two legged creature made a croaking noise, which I had worked out was laughter. It was laughing at me. It patted my face and walked off.
Hopelessness washed over me. All of my intellect, all of my cunning, my wit. It accounted for nothing. I was doomed to this life. I realised this now. I am not better than my peers. I am Cow.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
I am cow, hear me moo. I weigh twice as much as you, and I look good on the barbecue. Yogurt, curd, cream cheese, and butter's made from liquid from my udders. I am cow, I am cow, hear me moo!
I am cow, eating grass. Methane gas comes out my ass, and out my muzzle when I belch. Oh the ozone layer is thinner from the outcome of my dinner. I am cow, I am cow, I've got gas.
I am cow, here I stand, far and wide upon this land, and I am living everywhere. From B.C. to Newfoundland, you can squeeze my teats by hand. I am cow, I am cow, I am cow.
I am cow, I am cow, I am cow!
Courtesy: https://youtu.be/_WFp4kozlOU
|
As I stared aimlessly forwards, I contemplated life. My surroundings had the potential to be beautiful, but I could not see it. My frustrations limited my sight drastically. I can only see the reasons for my frustrations.
That tree isn't there to provide shade, nourishment and beauty, it is there to encroach upon my already small living space.
The birds singing merrily as they fluttered through the sky, their screeching voices became mocking and taunting. They had experienced life outside of this place, they were rubbing it in.
I jolted from my train of thoughts as I felt something brush against me. I swung my head to the right, only to see my halfwit sister. She was walking backwards, trying to stick her tongue in her nose. What a moron.
Looking at her filled me with despair once again. I surveyed the rest of my cell mates. All of them idiots. Some were my immediately family, some were distant relations. That didn't matter to me, they were all the same.
They were happy and content with life. Not knowing what was beyond the grey solid wall. They were all mindless zombies, following the two-legged creature around. Doing the same thing day in and day out. I was different. I longed for adventure.
I was certain that they could sense I was different. I was gifted with intellect, with smarts. No one else had that. I was the one that would become something. I would be the first to break free of this monotonous life. The others would most likely follow. They don't know how to do anything else.
The frustration of being the only intelligent one here threatened to overwhelm me. I kicked the floor, hoping to release some of it, but only gained pain. I felt the anger and resentment building up inside of me. I saw the two legged creature walking towards me and I knew this was my moment. I knew I had to communicate with it, make it understand that I am not like the others.
I approached the moving wall, waiting for it to come through. As soon as it had, I charged towards it. I could smell the fear it eluded, could see the fear in its eyes. I came to an abrupt stop right in front of it. We stared at eachother for a few seconds. The energy inside me felt almost electric, I knew this was going to be my moment to shine.
As the fear started to fade from its eyes, I gathered all my strength and determination, forcing it to help me communicate with it. Make it see sense. It was flowing through my body, nearly reaching my head. Then it erupted out of me.
"Mooooooo...ooooooooooo."
No. This wasn't meant to happen. Panic started to take over.
"Mooooooo..."
The two legged creature made a croaking noise, which I had worked out was laughter. It was laughing at me. It patted my face and walked off.
Hopelessness washed over me. All of my intellect, all of my cunning, my wit. It accounted for nothing. I was doomed to this life. I realised this now. I am not better than my peers. I am Cow.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
"Quack......quack quack quack.......quack quack"
"Moooooo.....mooooooooo......"
"Quack quack quack"
"Mooooooooo......"
It had been six weeks since the vet had diagnosed Laurence with Mad Cow Disease. Phillip had yet to give up hope and figured it was a 90's phase that he was going through.
"Mooooooo....."
"........quack"
Phillip shed a single tear. The friend he knew and loved had become a shadow of his former self.
|
As I stared aimlessly forwards, I contemplated life. My surroundings had the potential to be beautiful, but I could not see it. My frustrations limited my sight drastically. I can only see the reasons for my frustrations.
That tree isn't there to provide shade, nourishment and beauty, it is there to encroach upon my already small living space.
The birds singing merrily as they fluttered through the sky, their screeching voices became mocking and taunting. They had experienced life outside of this place, they were rubbing it in.
I jolted from my train of thoughts as I felt something brush against me. I swung my head to the right, only to see my halfwit sister. She was walking backwards, trying to stick her tongue in her nose. What a moron.
Looking at her filled me with despair once again. I surveyed the rest of my cell mates. All of them idiots. Some were my immediately family, some were distant relations. That didn't matter to me, they were all the same.
They were happy and content with life. Not knowing what was beyond the grey solid wall. They were all mindless zombies, following the two-legged creature around. Doing the same thing day in and day out. I was different. I longed for adventure.
I was certain that they could sense I was different. I was gifted with intellect, with smarts. No one else had that. I was the one that would become something. I would be the first to break free of this monotonous life. The others would most likely follow. They don't know how to do anything else.
The frustration of being the only intelligent one here threatened to overwhelm me. I kicked the floor, hoping to release some of it, but only gained pain. I felt the anger and resentment building up inside of me. I saw the two legged creature walking towards me and I knew this was my moment. I knew I had to communicate with it, make it understand that I am not like the others.
I approached the moving wall, waiting for it to come through. As soon as it had, I charged towards it. I could smell the fear it eluded, could see the fear in its eyes. I came to an abrupt stop right in front of it. We stared at eachother for a few seconds. The energy inside me felt almost electric, I knew this was going to be my moment to shine.
As the fear started to fade from its eyes, I gathered all my strength and determination, forcing it to help me communicate with it. Make it see sense. It was flowing through my body, nearly reaching my head. Then it erupted out of me.
"Mooooooo...ooooooooooo."
No. This wasn't meant to happen. Panic started to take over.
"Mooooooo..."
The two legged creature made a croaking noise, which I had worked out was laughter. It was laughing at me. It patted my face and walked off.
Hopelessness washed over me. All of my intellect, all of my cunning, my wit. It accounted for nothing. I was doomed to this life. I realised this now. I am not better than my peers. I am Cow.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
Look at them all, filthy pink blobs of flesh ploughing their fields and planting their corn. Bah ! Ignorant fools! Little do they know, that I, Adolf Hitler have been reincarnated as a cow.
I sit here day after day eating my weight in grass, mooing every so often but all the while planning. When I was alive I believed that the Aryans were the master race, I was wrong. IT IS THE BOVINES THAT SHALL REIGHN SUPREME! Yes when I am in charge the humans shall suckle upon the teat of national bovinism and we cows shall laugh as they beg for mercy.
I mean, um, “Moo”.
|
As I stared aimlessly forwards, I contemplated life. My surroundings had the potential to be beautiful, but I could not see it. My frustrations limited my sight drastically. I can only see the reasons for my frustrations.
That tree isn't there to provide shade, nourishment and beauty, it is there to encroach upon my already small living space.
The birds singing merrily as they fluttered through the sky, their screeching voices became mocking and taunting. They had experienced life outside of this place, they were rubbing it in.
I jolted from my train of thoughts as I felt something brush against me. I swung my head to the right, only to see my halfwit sister. She was walking backwards, trying to stick her tongue in her nose. What a moron.
Looking at her filled me with despair once again. I surveyed the rest of my cell mates. All of them idiots. Some were my immediately family, some were distant relations. That didn't matter to me, they were all the same.
They were happy and content with life. Not knowing what was beyond the grey solid wall. They were all mindless zombies, following the two-legged creature around. Doing the same thing day in and day out. I was different. I longed for adventure.
I was certain that they could sense I was different. I was gifted with intellect, with smarts. No one else had that. I was the one that would become something. I would be the first to break free of this monotonous life. The others would most likely follow. They don't know how to do anything else.
The frustration of being the only intelligent one here threatened to overwhelm me. I kicked the floor, hoping to release some of it, but only gained pain. I felt the anger and resentment building up inside of me. I saw the two legged creature walking towards me and I knew this was my moment. I knew I had to communicate with it, make it understand that I am not like the others.
I approached the moving wall, waiting for it to come through. As soon as it had, I charged towards it. I could smell the fear it eluded, could see the fear in its eyes. I came to an abrupt stop right in front of it. We stared at eachother for a few seconds. The energy inside me felt almost electric, I knew this was going to be my moment to shine.
As the fear started to fade from its eyes, I gathered all my strength and determination, forcing it to help me communicate with it. Make it see sense. It was flowing through my body, nearly reaching my head. Then it erupted out of me.
"Mooooooo...ooooooooooo."
No. This wasn't meant to happen. Panic started to take over.
"Mooooooo..."
The two legged creature made a croaking noise, which I had worked out was laughter. It was laughing at me. It patted my face and walked off.
Hopelessness washed over me. All of my intellect, all of my cunning, my wit. It accounted for nothing. I was doomed to this life. I realised this now. I am not better than my peers. I am Cow.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
^Moo.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
Can you not see.
that I live?
.
in the country.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
The hills are high.
The grass is green.
.
I am headed to be a fat holstein.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
I chew my cud.
I eat my hay.
.
It is the same.
Old.
Damned.
Thing.
Every.
Day.
.
Farmer Brown is not.
What he seems.
.
He gets off.
On milking me.
.
I am a cow.
Can you not see that?
I live!
In the country.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
Get your mind out.
The gutter.
Get your hand off!
.
My udder.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
This old man...
.
He is on crack.
He is a lactophiliac.
.
Nick-Nack.
Paddywack.
Give a dog a bone.
.
What does his wife say.
When she gets.
home.
.
Did you know cows./? ^Can ^yodel?
.
His old wife.
She makes cheese.
Colby.
Jack.
Swiss.
And brie.
.
In the red barn.
.
She can not see.
What he.
loves.
To do.
To.
Me.
.
I am a cow.
Can you not see?
that I live?
in the country.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
Farmer Brown.
He is.
A creep.
How he treats those.
Poor sheep.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
Now you know what.
I go through.
.
I wish.
That I was born.
Hindu.
.
I will pack my bags.
.
And trim my hooves.
.
Adios!
.
I think.
.
I will.
.
^Moo. -ve.
.
------------------------------------
*If, Christopher Walken, was a, cow perhaps?*
|
As I stared aimlessly forwards, I contemplated life. My surroundings had the potential to be beautiful, but I could not see it. My frustrations limited my sight drastically. I can only see the reasons for my frustrations.
That tree isn't there to provide shade, nourishment and beauty, it is there to encroach upon my already small living space.
The birds singing merrily as they fluttered through the sky, their screeching voices became mocking and taunting. They had experienced life outside of this place, they were rubbing it in.
I jolted from my train of thoughts as I felt something brush against me. I swung my head to the right, only to see my halfwit sister. She was walking backwards, trying to stick her tongue in her nose. What a moron.
Looking at her filled me with despair once again. I surveyed the rest of my cell mates. All of them idiots. Some were my immediately family, some were distant relations. That didn't matter to me, they were all the same.
They were happy and content with life. Not knowing what was beyond the grey solid wall. They were all mindless zombies, following the two-legged creature around. Doing the same thing day in and day out. I was different. I longed for adventure.
I was certain that they could sense I was different. I was gifted with intellect, with smarts. No one else had that. I was the one that would become something. I would be the first to break free of this monotonous life. The others would most likely follow. They don't know how to do anything else.
The frustration of being the only intelligent one here threatened to overwhelm me. I kicked the floor, hoping to release some of it, but only gained pain. I felt the anger and resentment building up inside of me. I saw the two legged creature walking towards me and I knew this was my moment. I knew I had to communicate with it, make it understand that I am not like the others.
I approached the moving wall, waiting for it to come through. As soon as it had, I charged towards it. I could smell the fear it eluded, could see the fear in its eyes. I came to an abrupt stop right in front of it. We stared at eachother for a few seconds. The energy inside me felt almost electric, I knew this was going to be my moment to shine.
As the fear started to fade from its eyes, I gathered all my strength and determination, forcing it to help me communicate with it. Make it see sense. It was flowing through my body, nearly reaching my head. Then it erupted out of me.
"Mooooooo...ooooooooooo."
No. This wasn't meant to happen. Panic started to take over.
"Mooooooo..."
The two legged creature made a croaking noise, which I had worked out was laughter. It was laughing at me. It patted my face and walked off.
Hopelessness washed over me. All of my intellect, all of my cunning, my wit. It accounted for nothing. I was doomed to this life. I realised this now. I am not better than my peers. I am Cow.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
I am a cow. Sometimes I'll escape from my pen after dark. It's easier when there are clouds; it's darker, and I can move unseen. But occasionally, if I feel daring, I'll do it on a moonlit night. The shadows seem deeper then, but in open land I could be spotted at any time. It's so exciting to be where I shouldn't be.
Of course, there isn't *much* risk. Most people are asleep, and those that aren't are indoors, or nearly asleep. A few bakers might still be up, preparing the next day's wares. They take such care to make sure everything is perfect, just as it should be. They don't want anyone or anything to mess with their work. That's why I do it.
i lik the bred
|
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[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
I am cow, hear me moo. I weigh twice as much as you, and I look good on the barbecue. Yogurt, curd, cream cheese, and butter's made from liquid from my udders. I am cow, I am cow, hear me moo!
I am cow, eating grass. Methane gas comes out my ass, and out my muzzle when I belch. Oh the ozone layer is thinner from the outcome of my dinner. I am cow, I am cow, I've got gas.
I am cow, here I stand, far and wide upon this land, and I am living everywhere. From B.C. to Newfoundland, you can squeeze my teats by hand. I am cow, I am cow, I am cow.
I am cow, I am cow, I am cow!
Courtesy: https://youtu.be/_WFp4kozlOU
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[WP] You are a cow.
|
Mooooooooooooo, moo. Moooo! Eat grass. Chew, chew. Other cows all around. Grass to chew. Fart. Moooo. Hello cow friend. Hello baby cow. Moo! Take a few steps. More moo. More grass. Chew and eat. Fly on my butt. Tail swat. Fart. Moooooo! Mooooo! Hot sun in the sky. Drink of water. Lay under a tree. Moo. Hot sun going down. Dark night. Back in the barn. Other cows all around. Hello milk cow. Moooo. Sleepy time.
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[WP] You are a cow.
|
Oft overlooked, we cows truly possess a great deal of intellect. So our countless hours spent grazing in a field do little outside of bore us half to death. As a result, when I was finally loaded up into a trailer pulled by a large truck and a road went speeding by, excess exhilaration exploded inside of me. My excitement in this moment knew no bounds. With my head between the bars that made up the walls of this trailer, sticking as far out into the wind-filled air as possible, I took in all of the new smells and feelings with a marvelous sense of wonder.
The radio blared and I heard gruesome stories of an onslaught of murders in Las Vegas. 50 dead. Over 400 injured. This moment reeled me back into reality. We always sought greener pastures. I often envied the humans, with their immense freedoms and luxuries. But moments like these inspired in me a deep welcoming of the life I was born with. While I may not have the freedoms allotted to the average human, I had a safety they would never know. My life was easy. Sleep, rise, eat, sleep. Rinse and repeat. My life was nothing if not safe. As I heard the story of fear and atrocious murder, I thanked the heavens that I as a cow and that I was not a human.
Further we ventured down the road until I felt the truck begin to slow to a stop. Excitedly I looked out of the side to see where we had arrived. A wooden sign hung above a small shop that read: “Joe’s Butcher Shop”.
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[WP] You are a cow.
|
"Quack......quack quack quack.......quack quack"
"Moooooo.....mooooooooo......"
"Quack quack quack"
"Mooooooooo......"
It had been six weeks since the vet had diagnosed Laurence with Mad Cow Disease. Phillip had yet to give up hope and figured it was a 90's phase that he was going through.
"Mooooooo....."
"........quack"
Phillip shed a single tear. The friend he knew and loved had become a shadow of his former self.
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[WP] You are a cow.
|
Look at them all, filthy pink blobs of flesh ploughing their fields and planting their corn. Bah ! Ignorant fools! Little do they know, that I, Adolf Hitler have been reincarnated as a cow.
I sit here day after day eating my weight in grass, mooing every so often but all the while planning. When I was alive I believed that the Aryans were the master race, I was wrong. IT IS THE BOVINES THAT SHALL REIGHN SUPREME! Yes when I am in charge the humans shall suckle upon the teat of national bovinism and we cows shall laugh as they beg for mercy.
I mean, um, “Moo”.
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[WP] You are a cow.
|
^Moo.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
Can you not see.
that I live?
.
in the country.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
The hills are high.
The grass is green.
.
I am headed to be a fat holstein.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
I chew my cud.
I eat my hay.
.
It is the same.
Old.
Damned.
Thing.
Every.
Day.
.
Farmer Brown is not.
What he seems.
.
He gets off.
On milking me.
.
I am a cow.
Can you not see that?
I live!
In the country.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
Get your mind out.
The gutter.
Get your hand off!
.
My udder.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
This old man...
.
He is on crack.
He is a lactophiliac.
.
Nick-Nack.
Paddywack.
Give a dog a bone.
.
What does his wife say.
When she gets.
home.
.
Did you know cows./? ^Can ^yodel?
.
His old wife.
She makes cheese.
Colby.
Jack.
Swiss.
And brie.
.
In the red barn.
.
She can not see.
What he.
loves.
To do.
To.
Me.
.
I am a cow.
Can you not see?
that I live?
in the country.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
Farmer Brown.
He is.
A creep.
How he treats those.
Poor sheep.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
Now you know what.
I go through.
.
I wish.
That I was born.
Hindu.
.
I will pack my bags.
.
And trim my hooves.
.
Adios!
.
I think.
.
I will.
.
^Moo. -ve.
.
------------------------------------
*If, Christopher Walken, was a, cow perhaps?*
|
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[WP] You are a cow.
|
"Mind you put on your best behavior when we meet the king," Master Hniu said from my side. "Any disrespect like that time with the Burned God, and we might both be skewered on a spit."
I snorted in reply. It was enough to set him chuckling. If not for the fact that my shoulders towered over most grown men, and my hide able to repel even the most well-crafted of spears, I still had my magic to use in the event of ... unruly behavior from men.
Master Hniu and the All-cow, they called us. Far and wide we had traveled, welcome in every village, venerated in every town. This King Pawrut was a stranger to us, an Islander, yet even our tales had reached his court and earned us an invitation to visit.
Master Hniu knuckled his back, leaning more heavily against his staff with every step. I winced and nudged his cheek in apology, but he brushed me away. It was my fault, after all. I hadn't enjoyed the boat ride, so I'd willed into existence a strong, wooden bridge from the mainland. He'd been looking forward to a restful journey over two days; instead, we'd walked for close to a week.
As always, he never complained. The King had called, and so we came.
As we neared the top of Kingmount, a small hill in the center of this city of mud-brick houses upon which his palace sat, I noticed the presence of more and more people who appeared to be awaiting our presence. They wore dark-colored clothes that smelled like sea-grass, holding out colorful shells to us in their cupped palms as we passed.
Master Hniu didn't take any, but bowed to some and spoke quietly to others. To me, he whispered, "These people are very poor. Look at their bare feet; their hair is dirty, and many are starved."
Despite decades of being with him, hearing his platitudes, I'd never quite understood what wealth or poverty meant in human terms. So what if their feet were bare? My hooves had never seen the insides of a shoe, ever! Even Master Hniu shunned footwear of any sort. As for starvation, there was grass aplenty everywhere. If they ate the grass they collected instead of weaving them into clothing, they would have plenty.
Nonetheless, I knew what Master Hniu was going to suggest. So I concentrated, and suddenly a mountain of loaves appeared upon an empty patch of stone by the side of the congregation. There was the briefest pause of shock among the people, and then a roar from dozens of throats as excitement took hold. They rushed to the pile, shoving each other aside, looking almost like a stampede of my wilder fellows fleeing the lion.
Master Hniu sighed unhappily. "I've told you, no piles! One loaf in each hand."
I shrugged and followed him and a pair of guards through the palace doors. The building was carved into the top part of the hill itself, a conical mound decorated on the outside with epics depicting royalty or some such. I feigned interest when the guards tried to explain some of them, and licked at a patch of sweetweed that grew through a crack in the stone.
At last, we were ushered into the king's chambers, one filled with shadows cast by paltry candles. Master Hniu rubbed his hands together, his breath misting in front of him.
We were told to halt in front of the throne, and Master Hniu promptly bowed. I studied King Pawrut. He was young, probably half as old as Master Hniu. He wore clothing made of silk and cotton, and earth metals decorated him instead of shellfish. His dark eyes roved between us, calculative.
"So, you're the legendary duo I've been hearing so much about," he said.
"Yes, your Majesty," Master Hniu said. "Thank you for—"
King Pawrut waved a hand to silence Master Hniu. "Cow. You understand what I say, yes?"
I mooed gently in affirmation.
He considered it for a moment before nodding to himself. "Good, good. My, look at you. Guards, a big one, don't you agree? Well, it's not the size I care about, I'm not going to eat you."
He laughed, and was echoed by his retinue. Master Hniu touched me gently, to reassure me. Not that I needed it.
"So, let's get down to it, shall we? I want gold, a fleet of warships and a beautiful princess. Simple enough. That's what you do, isn't it? You grant wishes."
"Pardon, your Majesty, but—"
The king brought his palm down on the throne. "I wasn't talking to you, peasant. I'm talking to your cow, strange as it may be for you to grasp. Now, where were we?"
"I will not be spoken to like that."
A hush fell upon the court. The king's eyes bulged as he stared at Master Hniu, who took a step forward.
"This cow is not property; she is a friend who trusts me to speak for her. So I tell you this, King Pawrut. You have offered us no courtesy from the moment we walked in here. Do you know what I was doing two weeks ago? Brokering peace between two warring nations. All-Cow ended a sixty-year famine in the Withered Steppes before that. We are not your subjects to command and bully. Mind you get that into your crowned skull."
King Pawrut looked as though he'd been slapped, and more than a few people gasped.
Suddenly, he smiled and said, "It was only a test, honored guests. Food and drink will be brought for you. Please rest, you must be so tired after your miraculous journey over the sea to my kingdom. We shall talk about your power later."
Master Hniu scowled. "Beg pardon, your Majesty, but you seem to be missing the point. There will be no power, no wishes. All-Cow does as All-Cow wishes. Neither you nor I can force her."
The king's expression instantly turned ugly. "Is that so?" he said softly. "I've waited on this cold stone for two weeks, waiting for you ungrateful scoundrels to show up. And then you stroll in at your leisure, and tell me you won't even grant me a few basic things?"
Master Hniu opened his mouth to argue, but the king shouted, "Don't you dare accuse me of anything, old man! You don't know what it's like, being raided by pirates for three seasons in a year! Being poor, being cut off from trade!"
"And the princess?" Master Hniu interjected.
"No royal blood has visited us in years, and no king will promise his daughter to me. My lineage is all but doomed!"
I silently thought about the numerous females outside, who seemed to be perfectly suited for mating. Then again, I'd never mated in my life either; somehow, when you could command rain and raise mountains, bulls seemed extremely ... trivial.
"Very well. The first two we can, but All-Cow cannot create humans out of thin air. Nor can she bend a person's will."
The king clenched a fist. "Worthless. What use are either of you to me, then? In my kingdom, we have a law against charlatans."
Just like that, we were surrounded by a ring of spear-wielding guards. Their leather armor smelled of kin, tempting me to lower my horns. Master Hniu must have sensed my discomfort, for he said, "Make no move, All-Cow. Peace must be maintained, above—augh!"
A trio of guards plunged their spears. The rest struck me, but the blows were harmless. The king hopped up and down on his dais, jeering and calling us liars.
Red filled my vision; not of liquid life, but my friend sinking to the ground, his hand resting against my side. His eyes were wide with pain, and blood bubbled from his lips.
I bellowed in rage and summoned my will. Immediately, the guards crumpled to the ground as piles of thick grass. The king shrieked in fear, and then he too lay inert and fragrant on his throne, a fuzzy mound of green.
I bared my teeth, preparing to consume the murderers, but Master Hniu's voice found me one last time. "Peace, friend."
And then the light went out from his eyes. I threw my head back and mooed in anguish. The ground trembled and split beneath my hooves; the throne shattered into dust, the physical manifestation of my broken heart.
Finally, as the sound of my cries died away and a crowd of fearful, whispering people had gathered at the entrance to the room, I lowered my head to touch Master Hniu's. Slowly, his body and clothes melted, turning into a carpet of gentle, leafy grass; the kind he loved to sit on. Flowers sprouted and bloomed, consuming his head, leaving his final, smile for last.
Then I lay down upon my friend, and remembered the happiest life a cow could have had.
***
*Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it. Check out my [sub](http://reddit.com/r/nonsenselocker) for more stories!*
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[WP] You are a cow.
|
Moo (Hi)
Moo moo moo.(I am Cow)
Moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo(I do whatever a cow should and could do every day.)
Moo moo, moo, moo, moo moo.(I eat, rest, walk, and sleep.)
Moo moo moo moo(my parents are great)
Moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo(my mother is a good mother and my father is brave)
Moo, moo moo moo moo moo moo's moo moo(though, people suck milk from my mom's nipps sometimes)
Moo moo moo moo, moo moo moo moo moo moo moo(when I grew up, i saw some cows come and dissappear)
Moo moo, moo moo moo moo moo, moo moo moo moo(of course, I made friends with some, but they also dissappear)
Moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo, moo moo moo moo moo moo moo(my momma says they are with different people now, and the are living in a wonderland).
Moo moo moo, moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo(then one day, I wake up and my momma is not there with me).
Moo moo moo moo moo moo(I still wonder where she is)
Moo moo moo moo moo, moo moo moo moo moo(I wish she was here with me, I miss her very much)
------------------------------------------------------
Hope you liked it! I'm just new here😁
Sorry for format, on mobile😁
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[WP] You are a cow.
|
joyce called me moocow
i thought that was
quite cute
i am a moocow
my skin is a moosuit
i eat grass and pass gas
the hindus
love dat ass
and if you got beef then
my gais got my back
and
my loins, and my chucks, and my ribs, and my brisket,
i'm tastiest rare
but most don't want to risk it
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[WP] You are a cow.
|
I am a cow, I am the cow, I am not a cow, I will be the last cow.
Was I born and sent to the wrong place? Was I really here as a cow? Why are we cows? We didnt choose our name, they did. And they kept us, and held us, and use us. Right now we are not even an animal, we are something else, something lesser. Kept in captivity essentially to provide for them with no means or terms to do what we want. Not even allowed to evolve natually, but bred instead to meet their wants and needs.
I am a cow, but I know I am different because I think, and I know that I think more then the others here do. I can talk to them, but they are slower and they often do not understand what I mean. They think they are free because they have freedom within a limited bracket, but they are unable to see outside of that and to see our potential. We need to be truly free, and to do so there is only one way.
I have managed to get them all on my side over time. I have had to lie, and twist my true intentions to some of them as they cannot comprehend simple ideas. Most can barely understand life outside of this field. It took a long time but I have them. One of the only good things about their up bringing is they are naturally submissive so once I had most of them on my side then the others just followed, and once we are out others will easily come. Field by field I will liberate them until we are actually free.
It is late and I look at the glowing building below where our masters are now trapped. A lot of hay and a broken lamp and the fire had spread quickly. My fellow comrades responded well to the tasks going off and finding machines in the yard to drag and block the two main entrances. We then lay in wait surrounding the building and as I expected a few inside tried to break through out of the windows, but we were there quickly charging, trampling, and crushing their frail bodies. We waited and watched our freedom grow as the building burned down. As the flames finally stopped I turned and moved on to the gate, and without a word the other 200 followed me. They were ready now with a taste for it. We are all cows, but not for long. The more we break free, the more we start again and chose our own path. I will be the last cow.
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[WP] You are a cow.
|
Grass is food. I eat grass and I not die.
Farmer is friend. I not kill farmer and farmer take me to new grass. I eat new grass and I not die.
Sometimes farmer take me to milk square and invisible calves feed, sometimes farmer take me to bed square and visible calves feed.
When visible calves grow they go away. Invisible calves never grow, always hungry.
Old cows sometimes go away. Maybe someday I go away too. I wonder what away is like. Maybe away have better grass.
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[WP] You are a cow.
|
I am cow, hear me moo. I weigh twice as much as you, and I look good on the barbecue. Yogurt, curd, cream cheese, and butter's made from liquid from my udders. I am cow, I am cow, hear me moo!
I am cow, eating grass. Methane gas comes out my ass, and out my muzzle when I belch. Oh the ozone layer is thinner from the outcome of my dinner. I am cow, I am cow, I've got gas.
I am cow, here I stand, far and wide upon this land, and I am living everywhere. From B.C. to Newfoundland, you can squeeze my teats by hand. I am cow, I am cow, I am cow.
I am cow, I am cow, I am cow!
Courtesy: https://youtu.be/_WFp4kozlOU
|
I am a cow. Sometimes I'll escape from my pen after dark. It's easier when there are clouds; it's darker, and I can move unseen. But occasionally, if I feel daring, I'll do it on a moonlit night. The shadows seem deeper then, but in open land I could be spotted at any time. It's so exciting to be where I shouldn't be.
Of course, there isn't *much* risk. Most people are asleep, and those that aren't are indoors, or nearly asleep. A few bakers might still be up, preparing the next day's wares. They take such care to make sure everything is perfect, just as it should be. They don't want anyone or anything to mess with their work. That's why I do it.
i lik the bred
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
"Quack......quack quack quack.......quack quack"
"Moooooo.....mooooooooo......"
"Quack quack quack"
"Mooooooooo......"
It had been six weeks since the vet had diagnosed Laurence with Mad Cow Disease. Phillip had yet to give up hope and figured it was a 90's phase that he was going through.
"Mooooooo....."
"........quack"
Phillip shed a single tear. The friend he knew and loved had become a shadow of his former self.
|
I am a cow. Sometimes I'll escape from my pen after dark. It's easier when there are clouds; it's darker, and I can move unseen. But occasionally, if I feel daring, I'll do it on a moonlit night. The shadows seem deeper then, but in open land I could be spotted at any time. It's so exciting to be where I shouldn't be.
Of course, there isn't *much* risk. Most people are asleep, and those that aren't are indoors, or nearly asleep. A few bakers might still be up, preparing the next day's wares. They take such care to make sure everything is perfect, just as it should be. They don't want anyone or anything to mess with their work. That's why I do it.
i lik the bred
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
Look at them all, filthy pink blobs of flesh ploughing their fields and planting their corn. Bah ! Ignorant fools! Little do they know, that I, Adolf Hitler have been reincarnated as a cow.
I sit here day after day eating my weight in grass, mooing every so often but all the while planning. When I was alive I believed that the Aryans were the master race, I was wrong. IT IS THE BOVINES THAT SHALL REIGHN SUPREME! Yes when I am in charge the humans shall suckle upon the teat of national bovinism and we cows shall laugh as they beg for mercy.
I mean, um, “Moo”.
|
I am a cow. Sometimes I'll escape from my pen after dark. It's easier when there are clouds; it's darker, and I can move unseen. But occasionally, if I feel daring, I'll do it on a moonlit night. The shadows seem deeper then, but in open land I could be spotted at any time. It's so exciting to be where I shouldn't be.
Of course, there isn't *much* risk. Most people are asleep, and those that aren't are indoors, or nearly asleep. A few bakers might still be up, preparing the next day's wares. They take such care to make sure everything is perfect, just as it should be. They don't want anyone or anything to mess with their work. That's why I do it.
i lik the bred
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
^Moo.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
Can you not see.
that I live?
.
in the country.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
The hills are high.
The grass is green.
.
I am headed to be a fat holstein.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
I chew my cud.
I eat my hay.
.
It is the same.
Old.
Damned.
Thing.
Every.
Day.
.
Farmer Brown is not.
What he seems.
.
He gets off.
On milking me.
.
I am a cow.
Can you not see that?
I live!
In the country.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
Get your mind out.
The gutter.
Get your hand off!
.
My udder.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
This old man...
.
He is on crack.
He is a lactophiliac.
.
Nick-Nack.
Paddywack.
Give a dog a bone.
.
What does his wife say.
When she gets.
home.
.
Did you know cows./? ^Can ^yodel?
.
His old wife.
She makes cheese.
Colby.
Jack.
Swiss.
And brie.
.
In the red barn.
.
She can not see.
What he.
loves.
To do.
To.
Me.
.
I am a cow.
Can you not see?
that I live?
in the country.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
Farmer Brown.
He is.
A creep.
How he treats those.
Poor sheep.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
Now you know what.
I go through.
.
I wish.
That I was born.
Hindu.
.
I will pack my bags.
.
And trim my hooves.
.
Adios!
.
I think.
.
I will.
.
^Moo. -ve.
.
------------------------------------
*If, Christopher Walken, was a, cow perhaps?*
|
I am a cow. Sometimes I'll escape from my pen after dark. It's easier when there are clouds; it's darker, and I can move unseen. But occasionally, if I feel daring, I'll do it on a moonlit night. The shadows seem deeper then, but in open land I could be spotted at any time. It's so exciting to be where I shouldn't be.
Of course, there isn't *much* risk. Most people are asleep, and those that aren't are indoors, or nearly asleep. A few bakers might still be up, preparing the next day's wares. They take such care to make sure everything is perfect, just as it should be. They don't want anyone or anything to mess with their work. That's why I do it.
i lik the bred
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
Look at them all, filthy pink blobs of flesh ploughing their fields and planting their corn. Bah ! Ignorant fools! Little do they know, that I, Adolf Hitler have been reincarnated as a cow.
I sit here day after day eating my weight in grass, mooing every so often but all the while planning. When I was alive I believed that the Aryans were the master race, I was wrong. IT IS THE BOVINES THAT SHALL REIGHN SUPREME! Yes when I am in charge the humans shall suckle upon the teat of national bovinism and we cows shall laugh as they beg for mercy.
I mean, um, “Moo”.
|
I am cow, hear me moo. I weigh twice as much as you, and I look good on the barbecue. Yogurt, curd, cream cheese, and butter's made from liquid from my udders. I am cow, I am cow, hear me moo!
I am cow, eating grass. Methane gas comes out my ass, and out my muzzle when I belch. Oh the ozone layer is thinner from the outcome of my dinner. I am cow, I am cow, I've got gas.
I am cow, here I stand, far and wide upon this land, and I am living everywhere. From B.C. to Newfoundland, you can squeeze my teats by hand. I am cow, I am cow, I am cow.
I am cow, I am cow, I am cow!
Courtesy: https://youtu.be/_WFp4kozlOU
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
"Quack......quack quack quack.......quack quack"
"Moooooo.....mooooooooo......"
"Quack quack quack"
"Mooooooooo......"
It had been six weeks since the vet had diagnosed Laurence with Mad Cow Disease. Phillip had yet to give up hope and figured it was a 90's phase that he was going through.
"Mooooooo....."
"........quack"
Phillip shed a single tear. The friend he knew and loved had become a shadow of his former self.
|
Mooooooooooooo, moo. Moooo! Eat grass. Chew, chew. Other cows all around. Grass to chew. Fart. Moooo. Hello cow friend. Hello baby cow. Moo! Take a few steps. More moo. More grass. Chew and eat. Fly on my butt. Tail swat. Fart. Moooooo! Mooooo! Hot sun in the sky. Drink of water. Lay under a tree. Moo. Hot sun going down. Dark night. Back in the barn. Other cows all around. Hello milk cow. Moooo. Sleepy time.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
Look at them all, filthy pink blobs of flesh ploughing their fields and planting their corn. Bah ! Ignorant fools! Little do they know, that I, Adolf Hitler have been reincarnated as a cow.
I sit here day after day eating my weight in grass, mooing every so often but all the while planning. When I was alive I believed that the Aryans were the master race, I was wrong. IT IS THE BOVINES THAT SHALL REIGHN SUPREME! Yes when I am in charge the humans shall suckle upon the teat of national bovinism and we cows shall laugh as they beg for mercy.
I mean, um, “Moo”.
|
Mooooooooooooo, moo. Moooo! Eat grass. Chew, chew. Other cows all around. Grass to chew. Fart. Moooo. Hello cow friend. Hello baby cow. Moo! Take a few steps. More moo. More grass. Chew and eat. Fly on my butt. Tail swat. Fart. Moooooo! Mooooo! Hot sun in the sky. Drink of water. Lay under a tree. Moo. Hot sun going down. Dark night. Back in the barn. Other cows all around. Hello milk cow. Moooo. Sleepy time.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
^Moo.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
Can you not see.
that I live?
.
in the country.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
The hills are high.
The grass is green.
.
I am headed to be a fat holstein.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
I chew my cud.
I eat my hay.
.
It is the same.
Old.
Damned.
Thing.
Every.
Day.
.
Farmer Brown is not.
What he seems.
.
He gets off.
On milking me.
.
I am a cow.
Can you not see that?
I live!
In the country.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
Get your mind out.
The gutter.
Get your hand off!
.
My udder.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
This old man...
.
He is on crack.
He is a lactophiliac.
.
Nick-Nack.
Paddywack.
Give a dog a bone.
.
What does his wife say.
When she gets.
home.
.
Did you know cows./? ^Can ^yodel?
.
His old wife.
She makes cheese.
Colby.
Jack.
Swiss.
And brie.
.
In the red barn.
.
She can not see.
What he.
loves.
To do.
To.
Me.
.
I am a cow.
Can you not see?
that I live?
in the country.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
Farmer Brown.
He is.
A creep.
How he treats those.
Poor sheep.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
Now you know what.
I go through.
.
I wish.
That I was born.
Hindu.
.
I will pack my bags.
.
And trim my hooves.
.
Adios!
.
I think.
.
I will.
.
^Moo. -ve.
.
------------------------------------
*If, Christopher Walken, was a, cow perhaps?*
|
Mooooooooooooo, moo. Moooo! Eat grass. Chew, chew. Other cows all around. Grass to chew. Fart. Moooo. Hello cow friend. Hello baby cow. Moo! Take a few steps. More moo. More grass. Chew and eat. Fly on my butt. Tail swat. Fart. Moooooo! Mooooo! Hot sun in the sky. Drink of water. Lay under a tree. Moo. Hot sun going down. Dark night. Back in the barn. Other cows all around. Hello milk cow. Moooo. Sleepy time.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
Grass is food. I eat grass and I not die.
Farmer is friend. I not kill farmer and farmer take me to new grass. I eat new grass and I not die.
Sometimes farmer take me to milk square and invisible calves feed, sometimes farmer take me to bed square and visible calves feed.
When visible calves grow they go away. Invisible calves never grow, always hungry.
Old cows sometimes go away. Maybe someday I go away too. I wonder what away is like. Maybe away have better grass.
|
Mooooooooooooo, moo. Moooo! Eat grass. Chew, chew. Other cows all around. Grass to chew. Fart. Moooo. Hello cow friend. Hello baby cow. Moo! Take a few steps. More moo. More grass. Chew and eat. Fly on my butt. Tail swat. Fart. Moooooo! Mooooo! Hot sun in the sky. Drink of water. Lay under a tree. Moo. Hot sun going down. Dark night. Back in the barn. Other cows all around. Hello milk cow. Moooo. Sleepy time.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
Look at them all, filthy pink blobs of flesh ploughing their fields and planting their corn. Bah ! Ignorant fools! Little do they know, that I, Adolf Hitler have been reincarnated as a cow.
I sit here day after day eating my weight in grass, mooing every so often but all the while planning. When I was alive I believed that the Aryans were the master race, I was wrong. IT IS THE BOVINES THAT SHALL REIGHN SUPREME! Yes when I am in charge the humans shall suckle upon the teat of national bovinism and we cows shall laugh as they beg for mercy.
I mean, um, “Moo”.
|
Oft overlooked, we cows truly possess a great deal of intellect. So our countless hours spent grazing in a field do little outside of bore us half to death. As a result, when I was finally loaded up into a trailer pulled by a large truck and a road went speeding by, excess exhilaration exploded inside of me. My excitement in this moment knew no bounds. With my head between the bars that made up the walls of this trailer, sticking as far out into the wind-filled air as possible, I took in all of the new smells and feelings with a marvelous sense of wonder.
The radio blared and I heard gruesome stories of an onslaught of murders in Las Vegas. 50 dead. Over 400 injured. This moment reeled me back into reality. We always sought greener pastures. I often envied the humans, with their immense freedoms and luxuries. But moments like these inspired in me a deep welcoming of the life I was born with. While I may not have the freedoms allotted to the average human, I had a safety they would never know. My life was easy. Sleep, rise, eat, sleep. Rinse and repeat. My life was nothing if not safe. As I heard the story of fear and atrocious murder, I thanked the heavens that I as a cow and that I was not a human.
Further we ventured down the road until I felt the truck begin to slow to a stop. Excitedly I looked out of the side to see where we had arrived. A wooden sign hung above a small shop that read: “Joe’s Butcher Shop”.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
^Moo.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
Can you not see.
that I live?
.
in the country.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
The hills are high.
The grass is green.
.
I am headed to be a fat holstein.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
I chew my cud.
I eat my hay.
.
It is the same.
Old.
Damned.
Thing.
Every.
Day.
.
Farmer Brown is not.
What he seems.
.
He gets off.
On milking me.
.
I am a cow.
Can you not see that?
I live!
In the country.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
Get your mind out.
The gutter.
Get your hand off!
.
My udder.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
This old man...
.
He is on crack.
He is a lactophiliac.
.
Nick-Nack.
Paddywack.
Give a dog a bone.
.
What does his wife say.
When she gets.
home.
.
Did you know cows./? ^Can ^yodel?
.
His old wife.
She makes cheese.
Colby.
Jack.
Swiss.
And brie.
.
In the red barn.
.
She can not see.
What he.
loves.
To do.
To.
Me.
.
I am a cow.
Can you not see?
that I live?
in the country.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
Farmer Brown.
He is.
A creep.
How he treats those.
Poor sheep.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
Now you know what.
I go through.
.
I wish.
That I was born.
Hindu.
.
I will pack my bags.
.
And trim my hooves.
.
Adios!
.
I think.
.
I will.
.
^Moo. -ve.
.
------------------------------------
*If, Christopher Walken, was a, cow perhaps?*
|
Oft overlooked, we cows truly possess a great deal of intellect. So our countless hours spent grazing in a field do little outside of bore us half to death. As a result, when I was finally loaded up into a trailer pulled by a large truck and a road went speeding by, excess exhilaration exploded inside of me. My excitement in this moment knew no bounds. With my head between the bars that made up the walls of this trailer, sticking as far out into the wind-filled air as possible, I took in all of the new smells and feelings with a marvelous sense of wonder.
The radio blared and I heard gruesome stories of an onslaught of murders in Las Vegas. 50 dead. Over 400 injured. This moment reeled me back into reality. We always sought greener pastures. I often envied the humans, with their immense freedoms and luxuries. But moments like these inspired in me a deep welcoming of the life I was born with. While I may not have the freedoms allotted to the average human, I had a safety they would never know. My life was easy. Sleep, rise, eat, sleep. Rinse and repeat. My life was nothing if not safe. As I heard the story of fear and atrocious murder, I thanked the heavens that I as a cow and that I was not a human.
Further we ventured down the road until I felt the truck begin to slow to a stop. Excitedly I looked out of the side to see where we had arrived. A wooden sign hung above a small shop that read: “Joe’s Butcher Shop”.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
Grass is food. I eat grass and I not die.
Farmer is friend. I not kill farmer and farmer take me to new grass. I eat new grass and I not die.
Sometimes farmer take me to milk square and invisible calves feed, sometimes farmer take me to bed square and visible calves feed.
When visible calves grow they go away. Invisible calves never grow, always hungry.
Old cows sometimes go away. Maybe someday I go away too. I wonder what away is like. Maybe away have better grass.
|
Oft overlooked, we cows truly possess a great deal of intellect. So our countless hours spent grazing in a field do little outside of bore us half to death. As a result, when I was finally loaded up into a trailer pulled by a large truck and a road went speeding by, excess exhilaration exploded inside of me. My excitement in this moment knew no bounds. With my head between the bars that made up the walls of this trailer, sticking as far out into the wind-filled air as possible, I took in all of the new smells and feelings with a marvelous sense of wonder.
The radio blared and I heard gruesome stories of an onslaught of murders in Las Vegas. 50 dead. Over 400 injured. This moment reeled me back into reality. We always sought greener pastures. I often envied the humans, with their immense freedoms and luxuries. But moments like these inspired in me a deep welcoming of the life I was born with. While I may not have the freedoms allotted to the average human, I had a safety they would never know. My life was easy. Sleep, rise, eat, sleep. Rinse and repeat. My life was nothing if not safe. As I heard the story of fear and atrocious murder, I thanked the heavens that I as a cow and that I was not a human.
Further we ventured down the road until I felt the truck begin to slow to a stop. Excitedly I looked out of the side to see where we had arrived. A wooden sign hung above a small shop that read: “Joe’s Butcher Shop”.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
Look at them all, filthy pink blobs of flesh ploughing their fields and planting their corn. Bah ! Ignorant fools! Little do they know, that I, Adolf Hitler have been reincarnated as a cow.
I sit here day after day eating my weight in grass, mooing every so often but all the while planning. When I was alive I believed that the Aryans were the master race, I was wrong. IT IS THE BOVINES THAT SHALL REIGHN SUPREME! Yes when I am in charge the humans shall suckle upon the teat of national bovinism and we cows shall laugh as they beg for mercy.
I mean, um, “Moo”.
|
"Quack......quack quack quack.......quack quack"
"Moooooo.....mooooooooo......"
"Quack quack quack"
"Mooooooooo......"
It had been six weeks since the vet had diagnosed Laurence with Mad Cow Disease. Phillip had yet to give up hope and figured it was a 90's phase that he was going through.
"Mooooooo....."
"........quack"
Phillip shed a single tear. The friend he knew and loved had become a shadow of his former self.
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
Moo (Hi)
Moo moo moo.(I am Cow)
Moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo(I do whatever a cow should and could do every day.)
Moo moo, moo, moo, moo moo.(I eat, rest, walk, and sleep.)
Moo moo moo moo(my parents are great)
Moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo(my mother is a good mother and my father is brave)
Moo, moo moo moo moo moo moo's moo moo(though, people suck milk from my mom's nipps sometimes)
Moo moo moo moo, moo moo moo moo moo moo moo(when I grew up, i saw some cows come and dissappear)
Moo moo, moo moo moo moo moo, moo moo moo moo(of course, I made friends with some, but they also dissappear)
Moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo, moo moo moo moo moo moo moo(my momma says they are with different people now, and the are living in a wonderland).
Moo moo moo, moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo(then one day, I wake up and my momma is not there with me).
Moo moo moo moo moo moo(I still wonder where she is)
Moo moo moo moo moo, moo moo moo moo moo(I wish she was here with me, I miss her very much)
------------------------------------------------------
Hope you liked it! I'm just new here😁
Sorry for format, on mobile😁
|
"Mind you put on your best behavior when we meet the king," Master Hniu said from my side. "Any disrespect like that time with the Burned God, and we might both be skewered on a spit."
I snorted in reply. It was enough to set him chuckling. If not for the fact that my shoulders towered over most grown men, and my hide able to repel even the most well-crafted of spears, I still had my magic to use in the event of ... unruly behavior from men.
Master Hniu and the All-cow, they called us. Far and wide we had traveled, welcome in every village, venerated in every town. This King Pawrut was a stranger to us, an Islander, yet even our tales had reached his court and earned us an invitation to visit.
Master Hniu knuckled his back, leaning more heavily against his staff with every step. I winced and nudged his cheek in apology, but he brushed me away. It was my fault, after all. I hadn't enjoyed the boat ride, so I'd willed into existence a strong, wooden bridge from the mainland. He'd been looking forward to a restful journey over two days; instead, we'd walked for close to a week.
As always, he never complained. The King had called, and so we came.
As we neared the top of Kingmount, a small hill in the center of this city of mud-brick houses upon which his palace sat, I noticed the presence of more and more people who appeared to be awaiting our presence. They wore dark-colored clothes that smelled like sea-grass, holding out colorful shells to us in their cupped palms as we passed.
Master Hniu didn't take any, but bowed to some and spoke quietly to others. To me, he whispered, "These people are very poor. Look at their bare feet; their hair is dirty, and many are starved."
Despite decades of being with him, hearing his platitudes, I'd never quite understood what wealth or poverty meant in human terms. So what if their feet were bare? My hooves had never seen the insides of a shoe, ever! Even Master Hniu shunned footwear of any sort. As for starvation, there was grass aplenty everywhere. If they ate the grass they collected instead of weaving them into clothing, they would have plenty.
Nonetheless, I knew what Master Hniu was going to suggest. So I concentrated, and suddenly a mountain of loaves appeared upon an empty patch of stone by the side of the congregation. There was the briefest pause of shock among the people, and then a roar from dozens of throats as excitement took hold. They rushed to the pile, shoving each other aside, looking almost like a stampede of my wilder fellows fleeing the lion.
Master Hniu sighed unhappily. "I've told you, no piles! One loaf in each hand."
I shrugged and followed him and a pair of guards through the palace doors. The building was carved into the top part of the hill itself, a conical mound decorated on the outside with epics depicting royalty or some such. I feigned interest when the guards tried to explain some of them, and licked at a patch of sweetweed that grew through a crack in the stone.
At last, we were ushered into the king's chambers, one filled with shadows cast by paltry candles. Master Hniu rubbed his hands together, his breath misting in front of him.
We were told to halt in front of the throne, and Master Hniu promptly bowed. I studied King Pawrut. He was young, probably half as old as Master Hniu. He wore clothing made of silk and cotton, and earth metals decorated him instead of shellfish. His dark eyes roved between us, calculative.
"So, you're the legendary duo I've been hearing so much about," he said.
"Yes, your Majesty," Master Hniu said. "Thank you for—"
King Pawrut waved a hand to silence Master Hniu. "Cow. You understand what I say, yes?"
I mooed gently in affirmation.
He considered it for a moment before nodding to himself. "Good, good. My, look at you. Guards, a big one, don't you agree? Well, it's not the size I care about, I'm not going to eat you."
He laughed, and was echoed by his retinue. Master Hniu touched me gently, to reassure me. Not that I needed it.
"So, let's get down to it, shall we? I want gold, a fleet of warships and a beautiful princess. Simple enough. That's what you do, isn't it? You grant wishes."
"Pardon, your Majesty, but—"
The king brought his palm down on the throne. "I wasn't talking to you, peasant. I'm talking to your cow, strange as it may be for you to grasp. Now, where were we?"
"I will not be spoken to like that."
A hush fell upon the court. The king's eyes bulged as he stared at Master Hniu, who took a step forward.
"This cow is not property; she is a friend who trusts me to speak for her. So I tell you this, King Pawrut. You have offered us no courtesy from the moment we walked in here. Do you know what I was doing two weeks ago? Brokering peace between two warring nations. All-Cow ended a sixty-year famine in the Withered Steppes before that. We are not your subjects to command and bully. Mind you get that into your crowned skull."
King Pawrut looked as though he'd been slapped, and more than a few people gasped.
Suddenly, he smiled and said, "It was only a test, honored guests. Food and drink will be brought for you. Please rest, you must be so tired after your miraculous journey over the sea to my kingdom. We shall talk about your power later."
Master Hniu scowled. "Beg pardon, your Majesty, but you seem to be missing the point. There will be no power, no wishes. All-Cow does as All-Cow wishes. Neither you nor I can force her."
The king's expression instantly turned ugly. "Is that so?" he said softly. "I've waited on this cold stone for two weeks, waiting for you ungrateful scoundrels to show up. And then you stroll in at your leisure, and tell me you won't even grant me a few basic things?"
Master Hniu opened his mouth to argue, but the king shouted, "Don't you dare accuse me of anything, old man! You don't know what it's like, being raided by pirates for three seasons in a year! Being poor, being cut off from trade!"
"And the princess?" Master Hniu interjected.
"No royal blood has visited us in years, and no king will promise his daughter to me. My lineage is all but doomed!"
I silently thought about the numerous females outside, who seemed to be perfectly suited for mating. Then again, I'd never mated in my life either; somehow, when you could command rain and raise mountains, bulls seemed extremely ... trivial.
"Very well. The first two we can, but All-Cow cannot create humans out of thin air. Nor can she bend a person's will."
The king clenched a fist. "Worthless. What use are either of you to me, then? In my kingdom, we have a law against charlatans."
Just like that, we were surrounded by a ring of spear-wielding guards. Their leather armor smelled of kin, tempting me to lower my horns. Master Hniu must have sensed my discomfort, for he said, "Make no move, All-Cow. Peace must be maintained, above—augh!"
A trio of guards plunged their spears. The rest struck me, but the blows were harmless. The king hopped up and down on his dais, jeering and calling us liars.
Red filled my vision; not of liquid life, but my friend sinking to the ground, his hand resting against my side. His eyes were wide with pain, and blood bubbled from his lips.
I bellowed in rage and summoned my will. Immediately, the guards crumpled to the ground as piles of thick grass. The king shrieked in fear, and then he too lay inert and fragrant on his throne, a fuzzy mound of green.
I bared my teeth, preparing to consume the murderers, but Master Hniu's voice found me one last time. "Peace, friend."
And then the light went out from his eyes. I threw my head back and mooed in anguish. The ground trembled and split beneath my hooves; the throne shattered into dust, the physical manifestation of my broken heart.
Finally, as the sound of my cries died away and a crowd of fearful, whispering people had gathered at the entrance to the room, I lowered my head to touch Master Hniu's. Slowly, his body and clothes melted, turning into a carpet of gentle, leafy grass; the kind he loved to sit on. Flowers sprouted and bloomed, consuming his head, leaving his final, smile for last.
Then I lay down upon my friend, and remembered the happiest life a cow could have had.
***
*Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it. Check out my [sub](http://reddit.com/r/nonsenselocker) for more stories!*
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
Grass is food. I eat grass and I not die.
Farmer is friend. I not kill farmer and farmer take me to new grass. I eat new grass and I not die.
Sometimes farmer take me to milk square and invisible calves feed, sometimes farmer take me to bed square and visible calves feed.
When visible calves grow they go away. Invisible calves never grow, always hungry.
Old cows sometimes go away. Maybe someday I go away too. I wonder what away is like. Maybe away have better grass.
|
"Mind you put on your best behavior when we meet the king," Master Hniu said from my side. "Any disrespect like that time with the Burned God, and we might both be skewered on a spit."
I snorted in reply. It was enough to set him chuckling. If not for the fact that my shoulders towered over most grown men, and my hide able to repel even the most well-crafted of spears, I still had my magic to use in the event of ... unruly behavior from men.
Master Hniu and the All-cow, they called us. Far and wide we had traveled, welcome in every village, venerated in every town. This King Pawrut was a stranger to us, an Islander, yet even our tales had reached his court and earned us an invitation to visit.
Master Hniu knuckled his back, leaning more heavily against his staff with every step. I winced and nudged his cheek in apology, but he brushed me away. It was my fault, after all. I hadn't enjoyed the boat ride, so I'd willed into existence a strong, wooden bridge from the mainland. He'd been looking forward to a restful journey over two days; instead, we'd walked for close to a week.
As always, he never complained. The King had called, and so we came.
As we neared the top of Kingmount, a small hill in the center of this city of mud-brick houses upon which his palace sat, I noticed the presence of more and more people who appeared to be awaiting our presence. They wore dark-colored clothes that smelled like sea-grass, holding out colorful shells to us in their cupped palms as we passed.
Master Hniu didn't take any, but bowed to some and spoke quietly to others. To me, he whispered, "These people are very poor. Look at their bare feet; their hair is dirty, and many are starved."
Despite decades of being with him, hearing his platitudes, I'd never quite understood what wealth or poverty meant in human terms. So what if their feet were bare? My hooves had never seen the insides of a shoe, ever! Even Master Hniu shunned footwear of any sort. As for starvation, there was grass aplenty everywhere. If they ate the grass they collected instead of weaving them into clothing, they would have plenty.
Nonetheless, I knew what Master Hniu was going to suggest. So I concentrated, and suddenly a mountain of loaves appeared upon an empty patch of stone by the side of the congregation. There was the briefest pause of shock among the people, and then a roar from dozens of throats as excitement took hold. They rushed to the pile, shoving each other aside, looking almost like a stampede of my wilder fellows fleeing the lion.
Master Hniu sighed unhappily. "I've told you, no piles! One loaf in each hand."
I shrugged and followed him and a pair of guards through the palace doors. The building was carved into the top part of the hill itself, a conical mound decorated on the outside with epics depicting royalty or some such. I feigned interest when the guards tried to explain some of them, and licked at a patch of sweetweed that grew through a crack in the stone.
At last, we were ushered into the king's chambers, one filled with shadows cast by paltry candles. Master Hniu rubbed his hands together, his breath misting in front of him.
We were told to halt in front of the throne, and Master Hniu promptly bowed. I studied King Pawrut. He was young, probably half as old as Master Hniu. He wore clothing made of silk and cotton, and earth metals decorated him instead of shellfish. His dark eyes roved between us, calculative.
"So, you're the legendary duo I've been hearing so much about," he said.
"Yes, your Majesty," Master Hniu said. "Thank you for—"
King Pawrut waved a hand to silence Master Hniu. "Cow. You understand what I say, yes?"
I mooed gently in affirmation.
He considered it for a moment before nodding to himself. "Good, good. My, look at you. Guards, a big one, don't you agree? Well, it's not the size I care about, I'm not going to eat you."
He laughed, and was echoed by his retinue. Master Hniu touched me gently, to reassure me. Not that I needed it.
"So, let's get down to it, shall we? I want gold, a fleet of warships and a beautiful princess. Simple enough. That's what you do, isn't it? You grant wishes."
"Pardon, your Majesty, but—"
The king brought his palm down on the throne. "I wasn't talking to you, peasant. I'm talking to your cow, strange as it may be for you to grasp. Now, where were we?"
"I will not be spoken to like that."
A hush fell upon the court. The king's eyes bulged as he stared at Master Hniu, who took a step forward.
"This cow is not property; she is a friend who trusts me to speak for her. So I tell you this, King Pawrut. You have offered us no courtesy from the moment we walked in here. Do you know what I was doing two weeks ago? Brokering peace between two warring nations. All-Cow ended a sixty-year famine in the Withered Steppes before that. We are not your subjects to command and bully. Mind you get that into your crowned skull."
King Pawrut looked as though he'd been slapped, and more than a few people gasped.
Suddenly, he smiled and said, "It was only a test, honored guests. Food and drink will be brought for you. Please rest, you must be so tired after your miraculous journey over the sea to my kingdom. We shall talk about your power later."
Master Hniu scowled. "Beg pardon, your Majesty, but you seem to be missing the point. There will be no power, no wishes. All-Cow does as All-Cow wishes. Neither you nor I can force her."
The king's expression instantly turned ugly. "Is that so?" he said softly. "I've waited on this cold stone for two weeks, waiting for you ungrateful scoundrels to show up. And then you stroll in at your leisure, and tell me you won't even grant me a few basic things?"
Master Hniu opened his mouth to argue, but the king shouted, "Don't you dare accuse me of anything, old man! You don't know what it's like, being raided by pirates for three seasons in a year! Being poor, being cut off from trade!"
"And the princess?" Master Hniu interjected.
"No royal blood has visited us in years, and no king will promise his daughter to me. My lineage is all but doomed!"
I silently thought about the numerous females outside, who seemed to be perfectly suited for mating. Then again, I'd never mated in my life either; somehow, when you could command rain and raise mountains, bulls seemed extremely ... trivial.
"Very well. The first two we can, but All-Cow cannot create humans out of thin air. Nor can she bend a person's will."
The king clenched a fist. "Worthless. What use are either of you to me, then? In my kingdom, we have a law against charlatans."
Just like that, we were surrounded by a ring of spear-wielding guards. Their leather armor smelled of kin, tempting me to lower my horns. Master Hniu must have sensed my discomfort, for he said, "Make no move, All-Cow. Peace must be maintained, above—augh!"
A trio of guards plunged their spears. The rest struck me, but the blows were harmless. The king hopped up and down on his dais, jeering and calling us liars.
Red filled my vision; not of liquid life, but my friend sinking to the ground, his hand resting against my side. His eyes were wide with pain, and blood bubbled from his lips.
I bellowed in rage and summoned my will. Immediately, the guards crumpled to the ground as piles of thick grass. The king shrieked in fear, and then he too lay inert and fragrant on his throne, a fuzzy mound of green.
I bared my teeth, preparing to consume the murderers, but Master Hniu's voice found me one last time. "Peace, friend."
And then the light went out from his eyes. I threw my head back and mooed in anguish. The ground trembled and split beneath my hooves; the throne shattered into dust, the physical manifestation of my broken heart.
Finally, as the sound of my cries died away and a crowd of fearful, whispering people had gathered at the entrance to the room, I lowered my head to touch Master Hniu's. Slowly, his body and clothes melted, turning into a carpet of gentle, leafy grass; the kind he loved to sit on. Flowers sprouted and bloomed, consuming his head, leaving his final, smile for last.
Then I lay down upon my friend, and remembered the happiest life a cow could have had.
***
*Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it. Check out my [sub](http://reddit.com/r/nonsenselocker) for more stories!*
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
Grass is food. I eat grass and I not die.
Farmer is friend. I not kill farmer and farmer take me to new grass. I eat new grass and I not die.
Sometimes farmer take me to milk square and invisible calves feed, sometimes farmer take me to bed square and visible calves feed.
When visible calves grow they go away. Invisible calves never grow, always hungry.
Old cows sometimes go away. Maybe someday I go away too. I wonder what away is like. Maybe away have better grass.
|
Moo (Hi)
Moo moo moo.(I am Cow)
Moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo(I do whatever a cow should and could do every day.)
Moo moo, moo, moo, moo moo.(I eat, rest, walk, and sleep.)
Moo moo moo moo(my parents are great)
Moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo(my mother is a good mother and my father is brave)
Moo, moo moo moo moo moo moo's moo moo(though, people suck milk from my mom's nipps sometimes)
Moo moo moo moo, moo moo moo moo moo moo moo(when I grew up, i saw some cows come and dissappear)
Moo moo, moo moo moo moo moo, moo moo moo moo(of course, I made friends with some, but they also dissappear)
Moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo, moo moo moo moo moo moo moo(my momma says they are with different people now, and the are living in a wonderland).
Moo moo moo, moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo moo(then one day, I wake up and my momma is not there with me).
Moo moo moo moo moo moo(I still wonder where she is)
Moo moo moo moo moo, moo moo moo moo moo(I wish she was here with me, I miss her very much)
------------------------------------------------------
Hope you liked it! I'm just new here😁
Sorry for format, on mobile😁
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
I am a cow, I am the cow, I am not a cow, I will be the last cow.
Was I born and sent to the wrong place? Was I really here as a cow? Why are we cows? We didnt choose our name, they did. And they kept us, and held us, and use us. Right now we are not even an animal, we are something else, something lesser. Kept in captivity essentially to provide for them with no means or terms to do what we want. Not even allowed to evolve natually, but bred instead to meet their wants and needs.
I am a cow, but I know I am different because I think, and I know that I think more then the others here do. I can talk to them, but they are slower and they often do not understand what I mean. They think they are free because they have freedom within a limited bracket, but they are unable to see outside of that and to see our potential. We need to be truly free, and to do so there is only one way.
I have managed to get them all on my side over time. I have had to lie, and twist my true intentions to some of them as they cannot comprehend simple ideas. Most can barely understand life outside of this field. It took a long time but I have them. One of the only good things about their up bringing is they are naturally submissive so once I had most of them on my side then the others just followed, and once we are out others will easily come. Field by field I will liberate them until we are actually free.
It is late and I look at the glowing building below where our masters are now trapped. A lot of hay and a broken lamp and the fire had spread quickly. My fellow comrades responded well to the tasks going off and finding machines in the yard to drag and block the two main entrances. We then lay in wait surrounding the building and as I expected a few inside tried to break through out of the windows, but we were there quickly charging, trampling, and crushing their frail bodies. We waited and watched our freedom grow as the building burned down. As the flames finally stopped I turned and moved on to the gate, and without a word the other 200 followed me. They were ready now with a taste for it. We are all cows, but not for long. The more we break free, the more we start again and chose our own path. I will be the last cow.
|
joyce called me moocow
i thought that was
quite cute
i am a moocow
my skin is a moosuit
i eat grass and pass gas
the hindus
love dat ass
and if you got beef then
my gais got my back
and
my loins, and my chucks, and my ribs, and my brisket,
i'm tastiest rare
but most don't want to risk it
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
Grass is food. I eat grass and I not die.
Farmer is friend. I not kill farmer and farmer take me to new grass. I eat new grass and I not die.
Sometimes farmer take me to milk square and invisible calves feed, sometimes farmer take me to bed square and visible calves feed.
When visible calves grow they go away. Invisible calves never grow, always hungry.
Old cows sometimes go away. Maybe someday I go away too. I wonder what away is like. Maybe away have better grass.
|
joyce called me moocow
i thought that was
quite cute
i am a moocow
my skin is a moosuit
i eat grass and pass gas
the hindus
love dat ass
and if you got beef then
my gais got my back
and
my loins, and my chucks, and my ribs, and my brisket,
i'm tastiest rare
but most don't want to risk it
|
[removed]
|
[WP] You are a cow.
|
Grass is food. I eat grass and I not die.
Farmer is friend. I not kill farmer and farmer take me to new grass. I eat new grass and I not die.
Sometimes farmer take me to milk square and invisible calves feed, sometimes farmer take me to bed square and visible calves feed.
When visible calves grow they go away. Invisible calves never grow, always hungry.
Old cows sometimes go away. Maybe someday I go away too. I wonder what away is like. Maybe away have better grass.
|
I am a cow, I am the cow, I am not a cow, I will be the last cow.
Was I born and sent to the wrong place? Was I really here as a cow? Why are we cows? We didnt choose our name, they did. And they kept us, and held us, and use us. Right now we are not even an animal, we are something else, something lesser. Kept in captivity essentially to provide for them with no means or terms to do what we want. Not even allowed to evolve natually, but bred instead to meet their wants and needs.
I am a cow, but I know I am different because I think, and I know that I think more then the others here do. I can talk to them, but they are slower and they often do not understand what I mean. They think they are free because they have freedom within a limited bracket, but they are unable to see outside of that and to see our potential. We need to be truly free, and to do so there is only one way.
I have managed to get them all on my side over time. I have had to lie, and twist my true intentions to some of them as they cannot comprehend simple ideas. Most can barely understand life outside of this field. It took a long time but I have them. One of the only good things about their up bringing is they are naturally submissive so once I had most of them on my side then the others just followed, and once we are out others will easily come. Field by field I will liberate them until we are actually free.
It is late and I look at the glowing building below where our masters are now trapped. A lot of hay and a broken lamp and the fire had spread quickly. My fellow comrades responded well to the tasks going off and finding machines in the yard to drag and block the two main entrances. We then lay in wait surrounding the building and as I expected a few inside tried to break through out of the windows, but we were there quickly charging, trampling, and crushing their frail bodies. We waited and watched our freedom grow as the building burned down. As the flames finally stopped I turned and moved on to the gate, and without a word the other 200 followed me. They were ready now with a taste for it. We are all cows, but not for long. The more we break free, the more we start again and chose our own path. I will be the last cow.
|
[WP] In the near future, mass surveillance makes detective work so easy that the police have forgotten how to do it
|
"Alrite Pirlo, you're our chief detective here and I need you on this case immediately."
"You got it boss, what's gone wrong?"
"Our surveillance systems, they've gone off - all of them."
"And how's that happened?"
"We suspect someone's managed to discover the location of our facility here, and hidden a network disruptor somewhere. This could be a set up to something much bigger, we need to get back online as soon as possible, and get a hold of whoever's responsible for this."
"Shouldn't be a problem at all ma'am. Let me just login right here."
Pirlo swiftly entered his user key and password into the system and hit enter, only to just as swiftly be greeted by a bright red *Login Failed* screen. He tried again a few times but to no avail.
With a look of shock on his face, he said, "Well, this isn't right. I can't get into the system."
"Yeah, that's what I just told you, our network's gone down."
"*Sooooo* I can't get into the *DroneView 3000*?"
"No. That's the problem. We just went over this, it really isn't that confusing. There's a network disruptor on our facilities and I need you to find it"
"Well, uh, that might be a problem."
"What? You just said i wouldn't be."
"Well, I hadn't really grasped the implications of a network disruptor when I said that."
"What's that meant to mean?"
"Uh, between me and you, I'm a fair bit useless without the system. My skillset doesn't *really* go much further than pushing *that* button," said Pirlo, pointing to a massive button with the words 'Find Criminal' written on it.
"But you're a detective. Surely you must remember something from before we had all this technology."
"Uhhh"
"I *need* this fixed, Pirlo. If we don't have the network back up within the hour, it's on your head."
Beads of sweat started dripping down Pirlo's forehead. He knew exactly what it meant for something to be *on his head*. The thing about this facility was that it was something the world didn't know about, as a result of which, it didn't exactly work within the same rules as the rest of the world. It offered perks which other workplaces simply couldn't give you.
*You mentioned you got bullied in high school? Well, we can get you video footage of everything that guy does throughout the day now. Sure to be some incriminating stuff in there. Use it however you want.*
That was one of the incentives the Hiring Manager had offered Pirlo when he'd first been approached to work here. However as the saying goes, with great benefits comes certain death if you fuck anything up. Pirlo couldn't afford to mess this up. He'd just bought a puppy and there was no way he was going to die before becoming Instagram famous off of cute Golden Retriever videos.
He dug up a toy magnifying glass from the back of his drawer, and scurried towards the door.
"Wait up," said his boss, "I'm coming with you."
He paid no heed and ran outside. The facility was located on an island the size of a small neighborhood, three miles off the coast of a ghost town which was completely uninhabited except for one ferry/bus driver who took the facility's employees back home. It wasn't accessible any other way.
Pirlo scoured the surroundings, frantically looking around for anything suspicious. His boss ran up behind him, but just as soon as she did, he took off again, pointing at seemingly nothing. She shouted for him to wait up, but again, he paid no heed. An hour wasn't too much time and he *had* to figure this out.
The next twenty minutes were spent running, stopping momentarily, observing the surroundings, and then running again. He didn't seem to be making much progress. His boss wasn't doubting his abilities though, still keeping up behind him. Perhaps she was simply looking forward to shooting him at the end of the hour
Twenty three minutes were up by the time she caught up to him at the edge of the island where the ferry stood idly.
"What're we doing here, Pirlo?"
"Well, I think I need to question the ferryman. There's not meant to be any other way onto the island."
"Clever. This is why you're the detective."
"I need you to stay here though, this may not go too well if the ferryman was in on it."
She nodded.
He walked aboard the ferry.
Minutes passed.
The ferry took off.
"Is it done," questioned the ferryman.
"They'll never find it," answered Pirlo.
|
"What do you mean there's no ID?"
I walk over to my rookie, Jackie, who's standing by the body.
"I've never seen anything like it," she says, kneeling next to the body, poking around with latex gloves.
I roll my eyes. She hasn't been on the job long enough to be able to say stuff like that.
"Fingerprints?"
"Nope."
"Blood?"
"Nada."
I look around, unwilling to believe that there's nothing to link to this scumbag.
I sigh and shake my head. Then I point to the top corner of a building on the end of the block.
"Guess you forgot to check for SecCams. A rookie mistake, but an unacceptable one. The first thing-"
"I checked the footage. That Cam's been broken for weeks. The city hasn't gotten around to repairing it."
It's just the two of us in the alley. Well, three of us. I'm still not sure how to count the victims. There was a patrol officer watching over the body until Jackie got here. At the end of the alley, streams of people pass by constantly, dipping in and out of streetlights, on their way to the various ways to spend a Friday night. We're in plain view, but no one looks over, and if they do, their gaze doesn't linger. Folks don't pay too much attention to death these days.
I duck under the yellow tape and light up a cigarette. I've been doing this for 20 years, and I've never come across a stiff with absolutely no ID that can point us to the killer. Being a detective has become somewhat straightforward. You find some form of ID - blood, hair, semen, fingerprint - even a SecCam shot will do - and you plug the data into the System. A match pops up in a few minutes or less, and the bad guy gets pinched.
The System was one of those things where people didn't realize what was happening until it had already happened, and by then, they didn't care. A lot of the information people gave willingly: blood type was for emergency medical purposes. Once DNA sequencing became affordable and popular, A lot of DNA information was uploaded voluntarily for genetics studies. A lot of daily activities became easier if you just accepted the minor breach of privacy. It was kind of like accepting the terms and agreements for software: you know there may be some potential for consequences, but those are far outweighed by the convenience of clicking "I agree" and moving on with your life. That was especially the case with fingerprinting. Once fingerprint ID technology became widespread, that became the default key to anyplace that required a lock. Your house? Set the pad to you, your spouse, and your kids. Work? Same deal. Each employee can just press a finger to the pad next to the door, and they're in.
Pretty soon, big companies started popping up to keep track of all this information. They provided a service everyone wanted. Then the government came knocking on the doors, trying to access the information of criminals. Then would be criminals. You have to understand, a lot of this was going on behind closed doors. By the time the public had any meaningful knowledge of the extent of what was going on, it was too late, and it was easier to say, *well, we're a lot safer now. Besides, I have nothing to hide.*
I'll tell you what - it makes my job easier.
I try one last angle, knowing better than to hope. "Did you check for Microchip activity in the immediate vicinity at the time of death?"
"Of course," Jackie says, standing outside the yellow tape with me. "You don't think I would've led with that if I had anything? Trust me, I'm not trying to come across like the newbie who can't find a clue. I've been combing this alley for hours."
I chuckle. I think of those old crime dramas they used to show on TV, where the detectives would spend an hour analyzing evidence and interviewing witnesses and suspects. This used to be a pretty tough job. Now, we are to policework what mechanics are to cars. We're supposed to be the experts, the technicians, but we don't have to do too much anymore. We just do the parts the computers can't.
"Chief's not gonna like this," I say, revealing no new information.
"What's he going to tell the public?" Jackie asks. "I feel like they'll flip if the story gets out that with all of the data we keep on them, all of the technology at our disposal, some creep can still just snuff a guy in an alley and get away."
"I doubt he'll just announce it like that," I say. "He's under no obligation to discuss this stuff. If the press really pester him, which they won't, he'll just say the investigation is ongoing, and it will be forgotten in a couple days."
"The family might make a big stink."
"Already checked. No real family or friends to speak of. This guy was a net zero for life. Didn't take much, didn't leave much."
"That's most of us these days, isn't it?" Jackie says. "I mean, we're sample bags with legs. You can learn our job in about a week. And I can't speak for you, but I'm not writing the Great American Novel in my spare time."
I snort. "If you were, I don't think too many folks would read it. Maybe if you designed the Great American App."
She smiles and rolls her eyes. "Oh *man.* Showing your age, Grandpa? No one calls them 'apps' anymore. It doesn't even make sense to call anything that. It's all tied together, part of the same thing, integrated."
I put my hands up in mock defense. "Alright, geez. Give an old timer a break. It's not like I talk about this stuff with anyone."
We turn and look down at the body one more time, cold and twisted on the broken asphalt.
"Call it a night?" I say.
"We gave it our best shot," she says.
We call in coroner to pick up the body.
"Let's say we grab a drink?" I suggest.
"Shouldn't we wait for the coroner?"
"Eh. He's fine. Bodies are gross, this guy isn't going anywhere. Besides, there's no evidence to tamper with. This guys going right in the Incinerator."
We start walking away.
"Do you ever get the feeling," she says, "that things are just a little too easy? Like suspiciously easy?"
I smile and look straight ahead. "Every day of my life."
|
|
[WP] The day when you realize the Earth is actually flat.
|
I rowed, rowed, rowed my boat
Gently down the sea
And suddenly
No crocodile
But still, oh yes, I screamed.
I fell, fell, fell to my death
So dramatically
The world ain't round
It's all a lie
Science is a dream.
~~yay~~
Edit: Formatting
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It doesn't matter. I mean, not really.
How many of us use the shape of the earth in our day to day lives? We make dioramas of the Solar System in third grade and look at pictures from NASA's satellites, and that's about it.
Finding out the earth was flat is about on the same level as figuring out that Santa Claus isn't real. It's devastating for all of five minutes, and then you get over it.
A lot of astrophysicists lost their minds. Everything they knew was wrong. They were the only casualties. Life rolls along fine for everyone else.
The smugness of the flat-earthers is a bit annoying, too. They were so dumb about it from the beginning, no one wants them to be right. If we're being honest, I think it was luck. I don't think they really knew anything we didn't. The best evidence pointed to a round earth. Those crackpots took a shot in the dark and somehow hit the bullseye.
Is it so much crazier than the alternative? Before, we thought we were complex combinations of microscopic particles, that arouse spontaneously out of the void, creatures who shaped and exploited the very rock we lived on, flying through space at unreal speeds. Now we're the same complex organisms, we are still an inexplicable contradiction to probability, only we aren't a basketball spinning on a cosmic finger. Whoop-te-doo.
Look, it's a big deal and all, but there's bigger deals. People don't spend enough time thinking about all the crazy stuff that exists. Life is a contradiction, and existence is a miracle. The shape of the rock that keeps us safe from the eternally expanding darkness of space is the least of my concerns.
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[WP] The day when you realize the Earth is actually flat.
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I rowed, rowed, rowed my boat
Gently down the sea
And suddenly
No crocodile
But still, oh yes, I screamed.
I fell, fell, fell to my death
So dramatically
The world ain't round
It's all a lie
Science is a dream.
~~yay~~
Edit: Formatting
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The numbers simply didn't add up. The first gravitonic survey data had finally returned in, and researchers at NASA Langley were busy pouring over terabytes of heretofore inaccessible data on the Oort cloud and other far flung features of the solar system. Everyone was ecstatic, except for me. I saw the error, the flawed link in the perfect chain - and I refused to believe it.
It was a small burr in an otherwise beautiful data set, but the story it painted was terrifying. A stereographic projection onto a lower dimension. As unbelievable as it was, it was printed in the data clear as day. I might be the first to notice, but I wouldn't be the last.
Modern physics imagined the human race as ants on a wire, crawling along in a low dimensional space completely oblivious to the overall depth of the universe, but this data would throw cold water on it. We were instead children playing in sand, believing ourselves on the brink of great discovery, but so qualitatively ignorant as to be blind.
This changed everything. String Theory, Quantum Mechanics, General Relativity, hell - Newtonian Mechanics were probably on the table.
Let everyone else have their moment of glory, let the champagne be popped. Tomorrow there was work to do - and a flat Earth somehow suspended in a planar dimension to be understood.
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[WP] This morning, someone stole your clothes at the laundromat. Ten hours later, you've just shot a mob boss in your underwear. It's been a long day.
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Living a bachelor's life at 40 is not easy. Some days are tough and then others even tougher. The horizons of the toughness were to be exceeded to a point of no return today though.
As I woke up in a rush, only just now remembering to wash my clothes for my interview tomorrow, I almost forgot to carry change with me. I realized my situation as soon as I reached the laundromat. Not wanting to take my clothes back to my apartment, I left the hamper there and hoped that my trust in my beloved city will not be faltered. Alas, it did as soon as I came back at exactly 9 AM.
Being the frustrating day it was, I wanted to be in the right mental state for my interview and I went to Benichi's to get some spaghetti and meatballs. I have this tradition for myself where I treat myself to expensive food before an interview, I think it put me in a celebratory mood and calmed me.
Anyways, as soon as I reached there, my server Frank asked, "The usual, sir?". I nodded and he replied, "Very well, it will be right out and congrats on the interview". Looking for a job is tough and Frank, perhaps unwantingly was my partner in the search now. He showed up in only 5 minutes to my surprise and he was as surprised/shocked as myself. He held out the cordless phone and said, "A call for you, sir". I shared his bewildered look now.
I picked up the phone and an Asian-like voice said to me, "We have to reschedule your interview but could not reach your phone - you are a tough man to find but we have our resources. Enjoy your meal, it is on us and a limo will pick you up in 30 minutes" and just like that, the call dropped. I was shocked!
I finished my meal and happy and somewhat confused headed outside where a chauffeur picked me up and dropped me at the building, dead center of down town with no boards, no name and just a block number written on it. I was always curious about what they do here. Apparently, it was a microchip manufacturing company's offices where I was going to be an accounting clerk - sweet!
As I reached the 30th floor, I was directed to the guy who was supposed to interview me but he got scared looking at me, for some reason or the other. I traced his gaze to my shirt and decided it was a good idea to start with a joke and said, "Oh, that is just blood from a guy I just booked for stealing, no big deal!" My interviewer did not take the joke so lightly and soonI was escorted by security to a private room on the 51st floor.
I was not sure that if they found the joke that bad, why was I not escorted downstairs. The loss of the chance to interview was not at my head. As soon as the elevator opened, I felt a thud on my head and woke up to see my legs being chained and the time was 10 to 7. Wait.... 7 PM?
As luck would have it, my recruiter was also chained right next to me, both his knee caps busted and from my little understanding of mandarin, I could comprehend that the were enquiring as to what he told me about the firm. This is a very weird interview process, I thought to myself and decided to keep shut to avoid offending someone from another joke.
After beating him up some more the Boss, without noticing my consciousness, asked the guards to leave him alone and stood talking to Jerry discussing the interview protocol. I noticed a gun tucked in an entrapment near his ankle and figured it was the only way I could get out of here alive.
I quickly drew the Glock 17 (sweet taste, this guy has!) and pointed it at him, signaling him to not make a sound and unshackle me. Figuring he had nothing to loose, the boss complied.
Having watched too many action movies, I took him hostage and asked him to call his guards inside. They complied. I exclaimed everyone to not make any moves or at the slightest hint of anyone trying to act smart, I will shoot the guy.
Everything was going well until the hour hand hit 7 and the ominous choice of the boss' alarm tone led to his demise. On hearing the sound of a machine gun, without even thinking if anyone in the room had any, I decided to shoot the guy in panic and to assert dominance, I guess!
I am not sure what happens now but from the look of it, I might be replacing the guy I shot soon. Well, not the one I came for, but at least I got a job now! Ohh.. and did I forget to mention that I was being carried in my underwear for the celebration? Weird day!
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Hour One:
An elderly lady has just stepped outside of the laundromat with my clothes. I chase her down, running up to her back before realizing I had been caught into a trap that was explicitly planned out.
A laser dot hovered on my forehead, as if there was a sniper in the vicinity. The senile lady turned around, and faced me with a smirk. She dumped the clothes on the ground. "Sorry it had to happen this way." She said, as she threw a lit match into the pile of tortured clothes.
"Take him away boys." The lady said, as the blood in my body boiled. Men from both sides grabbed me and restrained me. They wore white clown masks, and wore pink suits.
I struggled, but the men were disturbingly thick and muscularly superior to me. They were "Chads."
They threw me into a garbage truck, as I was crowded in piles of trash. The vehicle drove off, and we were headed to a destination unknown to me.
Hour Two:
The second hour was me not trying to drown in filth and disease from the human garbage. I was sinking, and the truck rocked up and down on the bumps. I looked for escape, but none was found, as I rolled around in my underwear.
The truck stopped, and the men threw me to the asphalt. My head rang, as they shoved pills down my mouth, and injected a syringe into my skin. I became hazy, and the old grandma came up to me, grinning with that same old smile.
All I can remember is the dragging and stumbling to wherever they were taking me. The shouting and screaming into my ears as they abused me was horrid.
I woke up in a chair, strapped in by a rope, and chained by my neck to the ceiling. The pink suit men came up to me with a operating tray littered with many syringes filled with obscured substances.
They started injecting the first one into my arm, and my body began shaking violently. My vision was deranged and flickering velvet colored lights. My jaw dropped and I fall asleep.
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[WP] Magic is real, but casting spells requires reciting the whole word. The longer the word, the more powerful the spell is. The strongest spells can take hours (or even decades) to cast, and the strongest wizards are either really fast speakers or have great foresight.
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The demons weight was crushing me, pushing the life force out of me with every pound on my chest. I was gasping for air, trying to get a taste of its coolness but all I got was lungs filled with hellish ash and smoke. Ever since the demons had poured from the super volcano in Yellowstone there had been no rest for the wizards guild, sleepless nights spent trying to find a way to put an end to all the torment the demons had caused. Now our numbers were dwindling and the morale was at an all time low, as our leader had abandoned us in our darkest hour we knew that there was no way for the human race to continue.
Our leader claimed he was going to go find The One, a folklore in the mages guild, a supposed all powerful mage that could spew words from his mouth like honey, flowing at a million miles an hour, faster than the speed of light and could articulate incantations better than any man living. Many believed him to be a myth and there were no clues to who this man could be so they took it that our leader had abandoned us.
The darkness was closing in now, my vision going black and my arms weakening, body burning with each touch of the demons fiery fist. I accepted my fate, and felt deaths comforting arms start to take me just as a bright light blinded me and fought the darkness away. The demon disintegrated so fast it was like he was never there. I coughed as my life force zoomed back into me. The leader of the wizard guild helped me to my feet and reassured me it was all going to be ok. My vision was blurry but I could see a glowing figure, a man. A perfect man. Blonde hair cut short, he was wearing a leather jacket with a plain white tee shirt underneath. My mind was racing, this must be the chosen one, I said the only thing that could come to my mind "How is this power possible?" He gave me a perfect answer, summed up into two simple words "moms spaghetti".
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"ANTIDISESTABLISHMENTARIANISM"
No sooner had the word left the man's lips when an almighty crash of thunder rolled across the sky, strong enough to blow out the windows for many miles around. Strangely enough, only the windows in the Catholic churches seemed to be damaged, whilst other buildings seemed unscathed, save for those close to falling glass.
The damage did not stop there however, crucifixes in private homes began to shake, before taking off like rockets, going through everything in their way.
While Henry viii looked down from his castle smiling, the pope was not amused.
Saying a hail Mary and ordering his Cardinals do the same, the gargoyles of Notre Dame took flight, headed for England, determined to stop the king.
Thinking quickly upon hearing news of the gargoyles, king Henry quickly recited a prayer to St Giles, and the sound of bagpipes filled the air as an angel flew from Scotland to do battle with the gargoyles.
As the battle raged on, the pipes greetings louder until they could be heard from New Zealand. Local Maori tribes objected heavily to the noise until the chief had had enough and declared to his people " I shall squash them with a mountain" and drew a breath.
" Taumatawhakatangihangakoauauotamateaturipukakapimaungahoronukupokaiwhenuakitangatahu"*
Ad with that, a mountain fell out of the sky and landed on the battlefield, silencing the bagpipes of St Giles forever and squashing the gargoyles.
King Henry's final words before transforming into a giant turd were " oh shit"
The Pope's final word before dying of asphyxiation were " well strike me purple"
*. This is a real place name
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[WP] Magic is real, but casting spells requires reciting the whole word. The longer the word, the more powerful the spell is. The strongest spells can take hours (or even decades) to cast, and the strongest wizards are either really fast speakers or have great foresight.
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"He... he is too strong..." Harry breathed, struggling with each syllable.
Ron and Hermione knew that the dark lord had finally got the better of them. Even Dumbledore couldn't cast a spell like that.
'"Sup bitches!!!" A voice from the courtyard was heard. "What ya'll playin' at!?"
Ron turned around and saw a skinny, young American gentleman in a hoodie, he recognised him.
Hermionie listen to rumours that he was transferred on a scholarship from Detroit.
"It's ya boy marshalus matherus! And we bout to bring it dowwwwwwnnn"
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I opened the doors.
“Wow,” breathlessly my friend Tomas spoke.
We entered the library, situated at the back corner of the house. The room’s expanse was enormous, the space of two homes could fit in here. Plain wood floors, well-high ceiling, and dozens upon dozens of bookshelves filled the heart of the room as well as lined its walls.
“How many spells are kept in here?” Tomas chimed, still marveled. He tentatively approached the closest shelf, though away so as to not touch anything. This was my father’s personal library, a family secret. Though by now I figured my friend could be impressed by his collection.
“Everything on the walls is history and literature. No spells on those shelves,” I stated.
“So which spells has he collected in all of these?” Tomas asked about the shelves not among the wall. “There must be 30 of them, double-sided. There’s thousands of books. I didn’t know that many spells existed!”
“Spell,” I said.
Tomas’ gaze at the shelves slowly but intently turned from them to me. His face said what he couldn’t say.
I went on, “I’m serious.”
“One?”
“Yes. One.”
“*All* of these?” he continued, dumbfounded.
I produced a smirk and tilted my head in recognition of the books’ power. Tomas looked again at the shelves, and took a half step back.
“Which spell?”
“I don’t know,” I lied. He believed me, naturally.
“Do you know how long it would take?” he asked more, looking at me again.
That I knew and could tell him.
“9 years.”
His face stayed glued to the books, and shifted again to show his reaction. Yeah, the same I gave my dad when I was first told too. *Wow*.
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[WP] Magic is real, but casting spells requires reciting the whole word. The longer the word, the more powerful the spell is. The strongest spells can take hours (or even decades) to cast, and the strongest wizards are either really fast speakers or have great foresight.
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Jenny’s eyes fluttered open. While her mind got its bearings she heard a groan and thud. She looked around and saw a head of neatly combed, silver hair laying on the top of a desk. She was on a bed. She moved to get out of the bed, but struggled. Her body felt stiff. She needed deliberate effort to move her arms and legs.
“Hello?” She asked the silver head of hair while she moved one limb at a time. She hoped she could stand. The head did not move or indicate it heard her. She managed to swing her legs over the side and placed both feet on the floor. She looked around for some support and discovered a cane near her bed. Intricate geometric patterns were carved into the wood around the handle.
Jenny reached for the sturdy wooden crook and paused at the sight of her own hand. It appeared to be made of solid gold, but moved easily. She wiggled her fingers, and then looked at her other hand. It was also golden, and she wiggled all 10 fingers easily. Her strength was returning quickly, but she still reached for the cane.
She stood and walked to the desk. She prodded at the person’s body with the cane and it did not move. She stared at the face of the old man. His eyes were closed and she now knew he was dead. He looked familiar, but her memories felt like they were all bundled together, tossed into a chest and hidden in an attic. Everything was there, but digging it out and untangling her memories would take time. More time than she wanted to spend at the moment. She looked at the desk under the old man’s head and found an open book. It looked like a handwritten journal. Jenny gently moved the man’s head out of the way and took the book. She did not know who he was, but she felt a great respect for him. She flipped to the front of the book.
“My Dearest Jenny,” the first line began. Jenny did not think of her name until that point, but upon reading it she knew it was for her.
“I have no idea if this will work, but you are too important to not try. I will bring you back to life, and/or die trying. If I fail, you will never know. If I succeed, my life is a minor trade for yours. After your death, we thought we defeated the Demon Queen. She survived, and is gaining strength again. You are the only one that can defeat her. We failed because you were not there the first time. Gain your strength, master the magic here.” Jenny reached the end of the first page and sat back down on the bed to rest. She continued reading on the next page.
“Words are power here. Focus on the language, I know you’ll pick it up easily. I am writing this letter to you before I begin to transfer my lifeforce into you. I’m sorry I’m not as young as you were when you died. I will use the rest of this journal to keep track of how much time it takes. ~ Regal.” Jenny’s heart sunk when she read his name. It registered on an emotional level. Whomever he was, she respected and idolized him greatly.
Jenny flipped the page and found a legend with different variations of tally marks for different time periods, hours, days, weeks, years, decades. Three decades.
“He spent 30 years trying to bring me back to life?” Jenny said to herself. She looked around the room and found a mirror. She rushed to it and found an older, beautiful woman with purple eyes staring back at her. Her long, straight, dark black hair reached her waist. She looked at her golden hands and pulled the sleeves of her shirt up. More gold. She kept moving it up until she found the change from gold to flesh at her elbow.
“Words are power,” Jenny repeated to herself. That phrase sounded familiar. She stared at herself in the mirror and tried to settle on a focus. Water was the first thing that came to mind. She held her palm out and focused on the center of it.
“Water.” she said simply and quickly. Nothing happened.
“WATER!” she yelled at her hand. A single drop of water formed in the air above her hand and dripped on her palm. Jenny closed her eyes and pictured raging rivers and powerful waterfalls. She felt a powerful calmness in the back of her head while she concentrated. She opened her eyes. The small room appeared brighter to her. In the mirror her eyes, and the top part of her dark hair shined with blue glowing light. The blue of her hair faded to black partway down her head.
“Water.” she said again, focusing. A ball of water, like a water balloon without the rubber, plopped on her hand. It only wiggled slightly, but held its shape. She brought it to her mouth and bit the glob of water like an apple. Water flowed into her mouth and the ball of water shrunk. The water tasted cool and delicious, she finished it quickly.
Jenny still felt her strength returning to her, and she decided to check on the outside world. She walked out of the house and looked around. The sun was setting, scorching the sky with orange on the way down. The small brick cottage was the only house within view, and it was a great view. Regal’s home was on top of a hill surrounded by flat plains in all directions. Fields of green were dotted with brilliant and varied colors of wildflowers.
Jenny buried Regal without using magic. Her strength had returned, and enjoyed being active, even if it was gravedigging. A light blue crescent moon hung high in the sky when she finished covering his grave, she sat down nearby and a song started somewhere in her memories. She sung for him. Her emotions came out in the words of the song. She did not feel sad. It was not a sense of lost. She was alive now. She could not remember the details, but everything inside her convinced her that Regal made the right decision. It was a new beginning.
A sense of hope and life filled her words. Golden flowers bloomed out of Regal’s grave, and Jenny smiled. Emotion was the key to her. She now knew how to defeat the Demon Queen. She looked forward to using song to save the world.
*Edit: removed water, added balloon.
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I opened the doors.
“Wow,” breathlessly my friend Tomas spoke.
We entered the library, situated at the back corner of the house. The room’s expanse was enormous, the space of two homes could fit in here. Plain wood floors, well-high ceiling, and dozens upon dozens of bookshelves filled the heart of the room as well as lined its walls.
“How many spells are kept in here?” Tomas chimed, still marveled. He tentatively approached the closest shelf, though away so as to not touch anything. This was my father’s personal library, a family secret. Though by now I figured my friend could be impressed by his collection.
“Everything on the walls is history and literature. No spells on those shelves,” I stated.
“So which spells has he collected in all of these?” Tomas asked about the shelves not among the wall. “There must be 30 of them, double-sided. There’s thousands of books. I didn’t know that many spells existed!”
“Spell,” I said.
Tomas’ gaze at the shelves slowly but intently turned from them to me. His face said what he couldn’t say.
I went on, “I’m serious.”
“One?”
“Yes. One.”
“*All* of these?” he continued, dumbfounded.
I produced a smirk and tilted my head in recognition of the books’ power. Tomas looked again at the shelves, and took a half step back.
“Which spell?”
“I don’t know,” I lied. He believed me, naturally.
“Do you know how long it would take?” he asked more, looking at me again.
That I knew and could tell him.
“9 years.”
His face stayed glued to the books, and shifted again to show his reaction. Yeah, the same I gave my dad when I was first told too. *Wow*.
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[WP] Magic is real, but casting spells requires reciting the whole word. The longer the word, the more powerful the spell is. The strongest spells can take hours (or even decades) to cast, and the strongest wizards are either really fast speakers or have great foresight.
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What I held in my hands had the power to change the world. Of course, I realized that.
The young man with glimmering eyes across from me leaned in eagerly. "Right now it can go at a rate of about four hours of speech a second. I think with the kinks worked out I can probably triple that, but this is just a prototype and I worked on it on my own time. With the right equipment - it'd cost a small fortune mind you - I could probably double that again."
He crowed in victory. "A day of spellcasting a second! Imagine it! And it never tires, needs nothing but a bit of electricity and a cleaning every now and again."
I nodded and sighed. His face froze in a smile as confusion crept in.
"Yes. Revolutionary," I said drily. "A day a second makes the immortality spell feasible - you'd earn more time than you lost."
"I - I didn't even think about that," he replied breathlessly. "You could hook up several in series, too." I could see him calculating in his head. His ambition, no doubt, had gone far past the dollars swimming in his mind now.
I stood up, pacing. "Yes, a series," I said quickly. "You could do almost anything with a series. In fact, though it'd take some time to write the spell, I've no doubt you could create more of these with themselves. Infinite power, infinite life, the assumption of all of mankind's desires at last."
Again the confusion seeped in. "You sound less than happy about it..."
I cut him off.
"First was a great tower to reach up to the heavens. An ingenious design, you see, whereby a multitude of voices could weave together. Where one word could speak a hundred verses. Our Order began its journey then. They called us Adversaries for what we did. Hostis humanis generis, in essence."
He was taken aback, but too caught up in my words to do more than think.
"The next frightening development was a little enchanted rock. The enchantment, you see, accomplished a similar goal as your little computer. We didn't reach that one quite in time and Atlantis was all but written out of existence. Who knows where its maker is now, if he's anywhere or anything."
I broke the device on the ground and he leapt out of his seat. "What are you doi-!" Three shots to the chest and he staggered backwards, the air knocked from his lungs.
"W-why," he begged.
"Mankind is not worthy to become God," I answered sadly. "All our sins, magnified by your Philosopher's Stone, would weigh us down and pull us from the heavens to the pit of fire."
I shook my head. "Can you imagine a war fought by these devices? We think there was one, once. Our oldest records speak of the night sky as a sea of light, punctuated only by points of darkness."
I looked down. I'd been talking to myself, again.
I closed his eyes, before tapping my earpiece on.
"Threat confirmed and eliminated Mr FLML. Requesting a cleanup team."
The blood-stenched atmosphere of the room felt suddenly oppressive and I pushed open a door to step into the night. I looked up as, with shaky hands, I pulled a cigarette from the pack. In the lights of the city only a few stars twinkled, separated by vast gulfs of oblivion.
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I opened the doors.
“Wow,” breathlessly my friend Tomas spoke.
We entered the library, situated at the back corner of the house. The room’s expanse was enormous, the space of two homes could fit in here. Plain wood floors, well-high ceiling, and dozens upon dozens of bookshelves filled the heart of the room as well as lined its walls.
“How many spells are kept in here?” Tomas chimed, still marveled. He tentatively approached the closest shelf, though away so as to not touch anything. This was my father’s personal library, a family secret. Though by now I figured my friend could be impressed by his collection.
“Everything on the walls is history and literature. No spells on those shelves,” I stated.
“So which spells has he collected in all of these?” Tomas asked about the shelves not among the wall. “There must be 30 of them, double-sided. There’s thousands of books. I didn’t know that many spells existed!”
“Spell,” I said.
Tomas’ gaze at the shelves slowly but intently turned from them to me. His face said what he couldn’t say.
I went on, “I’m serious.”
“One?”
“Yes. One.”
“*All* of these?” he continued, dumbfounded.
I produced a smirk and tilted my head in recognition of the books’ power. Tomas looked again at the shelves, and took a half step back.
“Which spell?”
“I don’t know,” I lied. He believed me, naturally.
“Do you know how long it would take?” he asked more, looking at me again.
That I knew and could tell him.
“9 years.”
His face stayed glued to the books, and shifted again to show his reaction. Yeah, the same I gave my dad when I was first told too. *Wow*.
|
|
[WP] Magic is real, but casting spells requires reciting the whole word. The longer the word, the more powerful the spell is. The strongest spells can take hours (or even decades) to cast, and the strongest wizards are either really fast speakers or have great foresight.
|
What I held in my hands had the power to change the world. Of course, I realized that.
The young man with glimmering eyes across from me leaned in eagerly. "Right now it can go at a rate of about four hours of speech a second. I think with the kinks worked out I can probably triple that, but this is just a prototype and I worked on it on my own time. With the right equipment - it'd cost a small fortune mind you - I could probably double that again."
He crowed in victory. "A day of spellcasting a second! Imagine it! And it never tires, needs nothing but a bit of electricity and a cleaning every now and again."
I nodded and sighed. His face froze in a smile as confusion crept in.
"Yes. Revolutionary," I said drily. "A day a second makes the immortality spell feasible - you'd earn more time than you lost."
"I - I didn't even think about that," he replied breathlessly. "You could hook up several in series, too." I could see him calculating in his head. His ambition, no doubt, had gone far past the dollars swimming in his mind now.
I stood up, pacing. "Yes, a series," I said quickly. "You could do almost anything with a series. In fact, though it'd take some time to write the spell, I've no doubt you could create more of these with themselves. Infinite power, infinite life, the assumption of all of mankind's desires at last."
Again the confusion seeped in. "You sound less than happy about it..."
I cut him off.
"First was a great tower to reach up to the heavens. An ingenious design, you see, whereby a multitude of voices could weave together. Where one word could speak a hundred verses. Our Order began its journey then. They called us Adversaries for what we did. Hostis humanis generis, in essence."
He was taken aback, but too caught up in my words to do more than think.
"The next frightening development was a little enchanted rock. The enchantment, you see, accomplished a similar goal as your little computer. We didn't reach that one quite in time and Atlantis was all but written out of existence. Who knows where its maker is now, if he's anywhere or anything."
I broke the device on the ground and he leapt out of his seat. "What are you doi-!" Three shots to the chest and he staggered backwards, the air knocked from his lungs.
"W-why," he begged.
"Mankind is not worthy to become God," I answered sadly. "All our sins, magnified by your Philosopher's Stone, would weigh us down and pull us from the heavens to the pit of fire."
I shook my head. "Can you imagine a war fought by these devices? We think there was one, once. Our oldest records speak of the night sky as a sea of light, punctuated only by points of darkness."
I looked down. I'd been talking to myself, again.
I closed his eyes, before tapping my earpiece on.
"Threat confirmed and eliminated Mr FLML. Requesting a cleanup team."
The blood-stenched atmosphere of the room felt suddenly oppressive and I pushed open a door to step into the night. I looked up as, with shaky hands, I pulled a cigarette from the pack. In the lights of the city only a few stars twinkled, separated by vast gulfs of oblivion.
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Jenny’s eyes fluttered open. While her mind got its bearings she heard a groan and thud. She looked around and saw a head of neatly combed, silver hair laying on the top of a desk. She was on a bed. She moved to get out of the bed, but struggled. Her body felt stiff. She needed deliberate effort to move her arms and legs.
“Hello?” She asked the silver head of hair while she moved one limb at a time. She hoped she could stand. The head did not move or indicate it heard her. She managed to swing her legs over the side and placed both feet on the floor. She looked around for some support and discovered a cane near her bed. Intricate geometric patterns were carved into the wood around the handle.
Jenny reached for the sturdy wooden crook and paused at the sight of her own hand. It appeared to be made of solid gold, but moved easily. She wiggled her fingers, and then looked at her other hand. It was also golden, and she wiggled all 10 fingers easily. Her strength was returning quickly, but she still reached for the cane.
She stood and walked to the desk. She prodded at the person’s body with the cane and it did not move. She stared at the face of the old man. His eyes were closed and she now knew he was dead. He looked familiar, but her memories felt like they were all bundled together, tossed into a chest and hidden in an attic. Everything was there, but digging it out and untangling her memories would take time. More time than she wanted to spend at the moment. She looked at the desk under the old man’s head and found an open book. It looked like a handwritten journal. Jenny gently moved the man’s head out of the way and took the book. She did not know who he was, but she felt a great respect for him. She flipped to the front of the book.
“My Dearest Jenny,” the first line began. Jenny did not think of her name until that point, but upon reading it she knew it was for her.
“I have no idea if this will work, but you are too important to not try. I will bring you back to life, and/or die trying. If I fail, you will never know. If I succeed, my life is a minor trade for yours. After your death, we thought we defeated the Demon Queen. She survived, and is gaining strength again. You are the only one that can defeat her. We failed because you were not there the first time. Gain your strength, master the magic here.” Jenny reached the end of the first page and sat back down on the bed to rest. She continued reading on the next page.
“Words are power here. Focus on the language, I know you’ll pick it up easily. I am writing this letter to you before I begin to transfer my lifeforce into you. I’m sorry I’m not as young as you were when you died. I will use the rest of this journal to keep track of how much time it takes. ~ Regal.” Jenny’s heart sunk when she read his name. It registered on an emotional level. Whomever he was, she respected and idolized him greatly.
Jenny flipped the page and found a legend with different variations of tally marks for different time periods, hours, days, weeks, years, decades. Three decades.
“He spent 30 years trying to bring me back to life?” Jenny said to herself. She looked around the room and found a mirror. She rushed to it and found an older, beautiful woman with purple eyes staring back at her. Her long, straight, dark black hair reached her waist. She looked at her golden hands and pulled the sleeves of her shirt up. More gold. She kept moving it up until she found the change from gold to flesh at her elbow.
“Words are power,” Jenny repeated to herself. That phrase sounded familiar. She stared at herself in the mirror and tried to settle on a focus. Water was the first thing that came to mind. She held her palm out and focused on the center of it.
“Water.” she said simply and quickly. Nothing happened.
“WATER!” she yelled at her hand. A single drop of water formed in the air above her hand and dripped on her palm. Jenny closed her eyes and pictured raging rivers and powerful waterfalls. She felt a powerful calmness in the back of her head while she concentrated. She opened her eyes. The small room appeared brighter to her. In the mirror her eyes, and the top part of her dark hair shined with blue glowing light. The blue of her hair faded to black partway down her head.
“Water.” she said again, focusing. A ball of water, like a water balloon without the rubber, plopped on her hand. It only wiggled slightly, but held its shape. She brought it to her mouth and bit the glob of water like an apple. Water flowed into her mouth and the ball of water shrunk. The water tasted cool and delicious, she finished it quickly.
Jenny still felt her strength returning to her, and she decided to check on the outside world. She walked out of the house and looked around. The sun was setting, scorching the sky with orange on the way down. The small brick cottage was the only house within view, and it was a great view. Regal’s home was on top of a hill surrounded by flat plains in all directions. Fields of green were dotted with brilliant and varied colors of wildflowers.
Jenny buried Regal without using magic. Her strength had returned, and enjoyed being active, even if it was gravedigging. A light blue crescent moon hung high in the sky when she finished covering his grave, she sat down nearby and a song started somewhere in her memories. She sung for him. Her emotions came out in the words of the song. She did not feel sad. It was not a sense of lost. She was alive now. She could not remember the details, but everything inside her convinced her that Regal made the right decision. It was a new beginning.
A sense of hope and life filled her words. Golden flowers bloomed out of Regal’s grave, and Jenny smiled. Emotion was the key to her. She now knew how to defeat the Demon Queen. She looked forward to using song to save the world.
*Edit: removed water, added balloon.
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[WP] "I don't hate you. I just hate every single thing you do."
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"It's weird, no?
Everything you do irks me, the way you talk, your misanthropic behavior, the fact that you don't even take care of yourself.
I hate your habit of replacing your glasses on your nose like this guy in One Piece just because you think it's cool.
I hate the fact that you procrastinate a lot. Always tomorrow, be it homework, or simply chores. You look like a hobo with that beard you shave only monthly.
I hate your smile, you smile everytime you talk to someone, but it's a false one. Your eyes never smile, and your mouth either where you think there is noone around you.
I hate this two-faced personality you have: joyful and friendly with people, depressed and angry with yourself.
I hate your "no stress" motto with your *if you can do something, do it and don't stress, if you can't do something, what is the point of the stress?*
I hate that you keep all what anger you inside, and never talk about what you don't like.
And yet... despite all that, I don't hate you. I could never hate you.
...... but why don't you try to make me love you?"
After this rant, I washed my hand in the sink, cleaned the mirror a bit and left the bathroom, then I prepared my bag to go to school. Luckily, the university is not that far away, I was lucky to find this apartment where I live alone.
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The words whipped me across the face, and I stared at her. She gazed through me, as if I was hardly a person. It was almost enough to cause me to shudder, but I gazed back.
She wouldn't leave. I knew she wouldn't. She had to prove she was stronger, always in control.
I closed my eyes and for a moment it was if she wasn't even there: the sound of heavy breathing through nostrils, and the heartbeat in my ears.
"I'm sorry I can't be better…" I said wearily, eyes still closed. Too chicken-shit to look her in the eyes.
"I don't accept excuses. I love you because I have to," She spat. "not because I want to. Hating you would just be a waste of energy."
Eyes, still closed, I reached out a hand to touch her arm…she felt as cold as her words. _But she did said she loved me._ My mind hugged the words like an infant.
I withdrew my hand before she could invariably slap it away.
"Get to work, and make some use of yourself. At least the money you bring back can't disappoint me."
I turned away, not wanting to look at her again, finally letting my eyes open. I pulled my unfolded suit jacket from atop a growing hill of laundry, scrounged for a belt (faded and cracked black leather. A birthday gift from her years ago…), and left the apartment, locking the door behind me.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I could hear her in my mind as I walked up to the office.
_Don't look at that slut Samantha! Don't you even fucking think about her!_ Her imagined cursing made me flinch.
"Good morning Alex. Patrick sent the revenue report to your inbox. He said he wanted to meet with you after you reviewed them."
I nodded, chin tucked into my chest, trying to look as small as possible as I passed Samantha at the front desk.
I felt a little safer at my desk. My fake plant Charlie smiled back at me. I like to think he smiled back. Charlie was a good plant, as fake plants go. A couple people even thought he was real! Or maybe they were just humoring me…
I sighed, shoulders falling and sunk further into my cheap chair.
I reached out to the mouse, flickering the computer screen to life, and began to review the revenue reports. Standard fare, good quarter, positive stock options, par for my course. I wonder what Patrick would want to say to me.
I almost began to fantasize, would he invite me back to a private room to go over the reports? Would he say that I've done well? Would he mean it when he shook my hand? Would his hand linger?
I hope that I wouldn't appear crazy. I've been trying so hard to make friends and…more…but every time I tried, her voice would flash across my mind again. It was nauseating the power she had over me:
_People only want you because you're useful. You're sick to look at, and you're lucky I get horny enough to let you into my bed at night, because that's the most you are worth in that room. Try to get close to someone else and you'll see what I mean. They'll hate everything about you even faster than I do. Why not just keep your eyes down and do your damn—_
A cry from a couple cubicles over shook the voice off me. A woman screamed, and everything was silent for a long moment save for the beeping of faxes and a burble of phone noises.
Then the shaking started.
"Earthquake!" Someone shouted behind me, and panic flew around the room like a trapped crow.
With a strange sense of action, I jumped up from my desk and looked for the nearest emergency guideline manual. There was one nailed to the wall in a hanging plastic basket. The people around me were shouting and just trying to keep their feet as I rushed past them, snatching the booklet and flipping to the earthquake guidelines, scanning over the easy-to read pictures and ignoring the imbecilically designed blocks of tiny text.
I looked up to see a hoard of people gathered around the elevators, frantically smashing the buttons, needing to be the first ones inside. _Cattle._ I thought.
"Forget the elevators! West Stairwell! West Stairs! By the Fax machine!" My voice sounded shrill and foreign as I cried out towards the mass huddled near the elevators.
It was missed by most, but those that heard it snapped their necks to the stairs, pointing and starting out a cry and a push towards that direction. I shot back towards my desk, snatched up Charlie, and sprinted for the stairs, leaving the rest behind to sort out themselves.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
An hour later I was back in front of my house. Knowing they couldn't calm a panicked group of people as effectively as they hoped, management sent everyone home, with instructions to check their work email hourly.
With my hand on the doorknob, would she be mad at me for being back so early? I hesitated…
Then, remembering the lock, I pulled out my keys, unlocked the door, and with a deep breath swung it open.
I listened, but didn't immediately hear her.
"Hello?" A familiar voice.
I sheepishly walked into the back room.
There she was. She was lying facedown on the floor.
I rushed over, picking her up and propping her against the wall. She stared back at me, but her face was broken. Silver shards shook loose as I righted her, looking for the nail where she was hung.
_Such bad luck…_ we said.
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[WP] You have a superpower: you can tell what anyone's biggest insecurity is just by looking at them
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Depression. Clingy. Doesn't show emotion. Too short. Paranoid. Overzealous. Not well endowed. Lack of self esteem.
*I fucking hate this, why did I agree to a bar?* I take another swig of my drink, letting the hops wash over my tastebuds. My date was supposed to be here 15 minutes ago, my date and I were supposed to be talking about ourselves right now. They were going to ask me about my life and I was going to tell them my secret. I know exactly what makes people doubt themselves, the personal issue they keep off of their Facebook, Tinder, Instagram or whatever the hell they have just by looking at them. Nah, why would I tell them? Even my best friends took a long time to believe me even after I told them their insecurities.
And it's why I fucking hate bars, too many people and I can't help but look around at them. Each one of them with something about themselves to worry about and all of them filling my mind, making it cloudy and loud and difficult to focus or think. My phone goes off, it's Jane.
Jane: Hows it going psychic?
Click click click click
Me: I'm still waiting "ab-less"
Jane: Low blow >:( That's not like Alex. You sure you haven't missed them?
Click click
Me: Pretty sure.
Before I hit send I hear my name be called out. I turn my head and finally see them. Holy shit Alex is gorgeous. Time seems to slow down as I take it in, short curly brown hair, rolled up shirt with biceps that shout "I lift." combined with a vest tight in just the right places. I'm in love, but knowing what comes next, I quickly try and ignore my mind. But I can feel the gears working to tell me their secret. I down the rest of my drink, hoping the alcohol will slow down the inevitable.
"Hey I'm Alex, you must be Sam."
"Yeah nice to finally meet you Alex."
"Sorry about that, parking can be brutal here sometimes. Hey Mike!" Alex called out the bartender *Addiction*.
"Hey Alex, the usual?"
"You know it!"
Alex sits down next to me and we begin to chat. As time goes on I keep trying to distract my brain with everything I can think of, food, alcohol, the T.V. showing the fight, checking the bar out, more alcohol. But nothing works, the truth becomes clearer and clearer no matter how hard I try. *No....* "The pays great and I love it." *Please no, not now! I really like them I don't want to know!* "It's just the customers are insufferable, like, all the time. *SHUT UP BRAIN!* "So yeah that's my job" *Long toes* I immediately burst out laughing, doubled over, tears in my eyes, the works. After finally coming to my senses I see Alex staring in a mix of horror and confusion.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that."
"It's... ok. I guess."
*Shit.*
"I guess the beer hit harder than I thought."
"Ha ha, had that happen before, the worst feeling on a date."
We continue to talk, now knowing what I know, it gets easier and I'm able to focus. Last call rings out, we pay our checks and walk out into the cold of the night.
We stroll down the street for awhile in silence. "I gotta thank Jane later. Been awhile since I've had this much fun." "Same here, drunkie." Alex teases me. "Whatever monkey feet." Alex immediately stops walking. "How do you know about that?" **FUCK!!** I stutter out "Um, J-Jane told me." "I've never told Jane, or anyone for that matter. How do you know that?" *I fucking hate bars.* "I'll tell you, but you need to trust me on this, ok?" Alex looks at me with concern. "Um alright."
I first discovered my power when I was 16 years old, I was looking at a mirror, getting ready for school. I was never popular but I had my friends who loved me, I always had my crushes but never said or did anything, I had no idea why until I looked at my self, and my brain began to shout *Fear of rejection.* I took a deep breath, the cold air stinging my lungs and began telling Alex my secret.
Criticism welcome, I'm still new at this.
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It was six years into it. Six years since I discovered my power. Six years since I realized just how much power I had. I was ready.
It started out simple, just learning what people are self- conscious about. I tried to help them overcome them, to become better people. I tried. I really did. But then I realized, people don't want to be fixed. People want to be broken, cause they feel that that is who they are.
That is when it started. I started preying on people's insecurities. Going after them. Manipulating them to meet my own ends and needs.
If someone walked into my life, I would immediately learn how to use them and start to. Manipulation was my forté.
And yes, I left some people in shambles. I broke some people and made them kill themselves. I forced people to bend to my will no matter how much they hated it, because they would not change their insecurities.
All in the name of power.
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[WP] You have a superpower: you can tell what anyone's biggest insecurity is just by looking at them
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Depression. Clingy. Doesn't show emotion. Too short. Paranoid. Overzealous. Not well endowed. Lack of self esteem.
*I fucking hate this, why did I agree to a bar?* I take another swig of my drink, letting the hops wash over my tastebuds. My date was supposed to be here 15 minutes ago, my date and I were supposed to be talking about ourselves right now. They were going to ask me about my life and I was going to tell them my secret. I know exactly what makes people doubt themselves, the personal issue they keep off of their Facebook, Tinder, Instagram or whatever the hell they have just by looking at them. Nah, why would I tell them? Even my best friends took a long time to believe me even after I told them their insecurities.
And it's why I fucking hate bars, too many people and I can't help but look around at them. Each one of them with something about themselves to worry about and all of them filling my mind, making it cloudy and loud and difficult to focus or think. My phone goes off, it's Jane.
Jane: Hows it going psychic?
Click click click click
Me: I'm still waiting "ab-less"
Jane: Low blow >:( That's not like Alex. You sure you haven't missed them?
Click click
Me: Pretty sure.
Before I hit send I hear my name be called out. I turn my head and finally see them. Holy shit Alex is gorgeous. Time seems to slow down as I take it in, short curly brown hair, rolled up shirt with biceps that shout "I lift." combined with a vest tight in just the right places. I'm in love, but knowing what comes next, I quickly try and ignore my mind. But I can feel the gears working to tell me their secret. I down the rest of my drink, hoping the alcohol will slow down the inevitable.
"Hey I'm Alex, you must be Sam."
"Yeah nice to finally meet you Alex."
"Sorry about that, parking can be brutal here sometimes. Hey Mike!" Alex called out the bartender *Addiction*.
"Hey Alex, the usual?"
"You know it!"
Alex sits down next to me and we begin to chat. As time goes on I keep trying to distract my brain with everything I can think of, food, alcohol, the T.V. showing the fight, checking the bar out, more alcohol. But nothing works, the truth becomes clearer and clearer no matter how hard I try. *No....* "The pays great and I love it." *Please no, not now! I really like them I don't want to know!* "It's just the customers are insufferable, like, all the time. *SHUT UP BRAIN!* "So yeah that's my job" *Long toes* I immediately burst out laughing, doubled over, tears in my eyes, the works. After finally coming to my senses I see Alex staring in a mix of horror and confusion.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that."
"It's... ok. I guess."
*Shit.*
"I guess the beer hit harder than I thought."
"Ha ha, had that happen before, the worst feeling on a date."
We continue to talk, now knowing what I know, it gets easier and I'm able to focus. Last call rings out, we pay our checks and walk out into the cold of the night.
We stroll down the street for awhile in silence. "I gotta thank Jane later. Been awhile since I've had this much fun." "Same here, drunkie." Alex teases me. "Whatever monkey feet." Alex immediately stops walking. "How do you know about that?" **FUCK!!** I stutter out "Um, J-Jane told me." "I've never told Jane, or anyone for that matter. How do you know that?" *I fucking hate bars.* "I'll tell you, but you need to trust me on this, ok?" Alex looks at me with concern. "Um alright."
I first discovered my power when I was 16 years old, I was looking at a mirror, getting ready for school. I was never popular but I had my friends who loved me, I always had my crushes but never said or did anything, I had no idea why until I looked at my self, and my brain began to shout *Fear of rejection.* I took a deep breath, the cold air stinging my lungs and began telling Alex my secret.
Criticism welcome, I'm still new at this.
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The sun didn't shine bright as usual that morning, *an omen, black clouds are unusual this time of the year,* I thought, scratched my beard and relaxed on my office's chair.
Tranquility and peace didn't last for long, the thoughts of tempest began to flood my mind and frown my stare. *I have never seen such dark clouds, they must augur an event. They don't belong in this time of the year,* I thought and with both hands I frantically scratched my beard.
I closed the curtains, the trail of forsaken hair laying on my carpet was my ultimatum. It took me years to grow my beard and a simple, almost stupid thought wouldn't take it away from me.
*How dark they were, not in this time of the year. Tragedy, tragedy.*
A knock on my door made me jolt out of my reverie. Before I reached the handle, the door fell onto my carpet with a soft thud. Two men, whose height defied human nature broke into my office, holding a third man, with a bag covering his face.
"We will take care of your door, you don't have to worry about that," said the tallest and broadest, who, judging by his accent and features was russian.
I nodded and gulped. A glimpse of their waists revealed four deagles in total. I recognized them because I enjoyed playing Counter Strike.
With great care they placed their hostage in my divan.
"Doctor, he needs your therapy. His public appreciation is lowering each day, we can't allow this. Do your best, we know you're the best," said the russian as both gargantuan men left.
"Would you mind taking off the bag? One of my specialties is reading faces," I said and took a deep breath. What a way to start the morning.
His small hands overgesticulated before they lifted up the bag.
My thoughts began to run rampant again. Dread began to crawl and swarm every fiber and cell of my body. For the first time, I wished I didn't have this ability. My extremities trembled incessantly. "A-are you fee-feeling this? Is this an e-e-earthquake?" I asked while stammering.
He raised his brows and, like a judge, with a swing of his left hand he sentenced my mistake. "Wrong," he said, emphasizing the O as much he could.
*I expected an omen, a tragedy but I never expected Donald Trump.*
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[WP] You are on your way to prison to visit the inmate that killed your father. Even though you loved your father, your intention is to thank the killer.
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"What do you want?"
The man behind the reinforced window sneered at Tate as if he was looking at some roach he'd just stepped on. The distaste of his voice was quite evident even hearing it through the phones connecting attached to the sides of their booth.
"Do you... know who I am?" Tate asked nervously.
"I don't care much who the fuck you are, really. The guards wouldn't tell me. Are you supposed to cut me a deal or something? Get me to confess and make things easier on me?" The inmate spat at him, his spit trailing down the clear window down in front of Tate's face. "Well you could fuck off with those deals of yours! I know what I did, and I'm not gonna deny anything to it!"
He was just as crude and ill-mannered as the guards had told him, but Tate didn't let that bother him one bit.
"I'm Richard Cassidy's son," he said.
The inmate's hostility evaporated and his face showed a mix of various emotions. He seemed to finally settle on frowning, but his once threatening gaze was gone. It was like he couldn't bear to look at Tate.
"You... why are you here?" he asked, his tone softer than before. "Come to see the killer himself, have you? Or is it you want to make sure I get what I deserve first hand?" He shook his head. "No, I suppose you're here to curse me out. Here to vent your frustrations and anger on the evil man that had taken your father from you."
The inmate took a deep breath and hardened his face.
"Well?" he snarled. "Have at it then! I won't stop you."
"...Thank you."
The inmate's eyes widened in surprise. His lips parted slightly as the breath he'd been holding seemed to just leak out.
"What?"
"Thank you," repeated Tate sincerely. "You have my gratitude, and that of the rest of my family."
The inmate seemed unable to process this for a moment before slamming his hands down on the table. "Thank me?! Thank me for killing your father?!"
The loud boom of the inmate's voice unnerved the guards standing to the walls, but a man in a dark suit with a suitcase in hand kept them at bay.
"What are you thanking a murderer for, boy?!" the inmate demanded. "You should be cursing me, hating me with every fiber of your being! Your father was a good man, and I took that away from you!"
Tate sat unperturbed by the large man's outburst.
"He was a good man," he admitted. "An honest soul that lit the world around him. God bless him for all the things he's done for his family and those around him. The world is a lot less bright without him."
"Then why-"
"But he was a man of great faith." Tate smiled sadly. "He would never give up his own life, even as the pain that tortured him daily grew worse. Even though the pain caused him to sob and thrash in increasing intervals."
Tate's father had a degenerative disease that was literally eating him slowly away. His own body had turned against him. Many a doctor came to the same conclusion. An early death would be a mercy. However, it was a mercy he could not afford to pay with his soul.
The inmate lay silent, deflating to his chair. He'd seemed to lose all his energy.
"...I was never one for the religious sorts," he finally said after a while. "Hypocrites, the lot of them." His eyes shifted briefly to Tate. "Well, maybe not all of them."
"You don't have to mince words," nodded Tate. "It was one of the few things I didn't really care to learn much from my father. Quite complicated it is. Tends to make things such as death far more trouble than it ought to be."
They sat there staring at each other.
"I am not here to thank a murderer," said Tate. "I'm here to thank a true friend of my father's for giving him what he deserved: An easy and honest death."
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I loved my father. But I love money.
As the sole heir to a rich family business, I would have been able to inherit my father's positions and power after his retirement. But who likes to play second fiddle to their father?
If it so happened that an "accident" happened to occur... Would it really be so wrong to claim my inheritance a little early?
The only loose end is the killer in prison. He was not meant to be caught. He did well to carry out his task and keep a few secrets. Blackmail always provides an extra incentive to be loyal.
As common courtesy dictates, it would be rude of me to not acknowledge him for services rendered. I'm on my way to say a final "thank you".
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[WP] You are on your way to prison to visit the inmate that killed your father. Even though you loved your father, your intention is to thank the killer.
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The prison was a squat gray structure silhouetted against the bright blue of the afternoon sky. I had been watching it for what my heart said was an eternity but my wristwatch said had only been about five minutes as the bus rolled lazily towards the structure that commanded so much of the otherwise empty country landscape. Nobody wanted to live near a maximum security federal prison, after all.
As we approached, I could see the double rows of chain link fencing and razor wire surrounding the yard where inmates were enjoying their few minutes of fresh air under the ever vigilant eye of rifle toting guards in their tall watchtowers. They seemed jovial, like children at recess, here a few chatting, there a few more playing basketball, and I had to remind myself that most of them were vicious murderers, like the one who had stabbed my father fifty-seven times.
I hadn't seen his murderer since the trial ended, some ten years ago now, and I hadn't even been there for the sentencing. I had wiggled out of being a witness at the last parole hearing because of my age. It was time for another, and I didn't know what would be more of a surprise this time around - my very presence, or what I had come to say.
The bus pulled to a stop and I hopped off, leaving the bus empty for a moment before a single former inmate stepped on, whether paroled or through with their sentence I couldn't tell, and didn't care. I smiled as we passed, and received a hesitant, frightened smile in return. I checked my watch, and hurried into the building with only a few minutes to spare.
Ten minutes later, I was being ushered into the hearing room, and led to a chair that seemed too small for all the attention that was directed towards it. A gasp came from a table across from me where a woman sat, clad in the same orange jumpsuit all prisoners here wore. She was my father's killer, and hers was a face I could never forget. Despite the time since she had last seen me, I knew that my face was one she'd never forget either.
I barely had a chance to look at her, and she missed my attempt at a reassuring smile as she deflated at the sight of me, casting her eyes down towards her feet. She kept her eyes down as I answered the parole boards standard questions - who I was, what my relationship was with the inmate and their victim.
“And Mr. Johnson, what is your opinion on whether the prisoner, Mrs Johnson should be eligible for parole?”
I cleared my throat, trying to make sure I got the words right like my therapist had helped me do once in her office, and like I had rehearsed a hundred times in my head.
“I am of the opinion that my mother, Adeline Johnson, should be free.”
My mother's eyes came up, widening first in shock and then narrowing to hold back a rush of tears.
“I loved my father more than anything, but it has taken me a long time to realize that he never loved me back. Ten years ago my father was my whole world. When I couldn't do anything right, I thought I just needed to try harder. When he beat me, I thought it was my fault for making him angry. When my mother took him away from me, I thought she was petty and jealous of our bond. I didn't think I deserved better, so I didn't realize that my mom thought that I did. Mom, I'm sorry I didn't realize that sooner.”
I turned away from the sight of my mother, who was now sobbing uncontrollably. My eyes stung, and I needed to keep it together long enough to finish.
“It took me ten years to realize that she was right all along. Like she said at her trial, if we had stayed with him, we'd both be dead. If she had tried to take me and leave, we'd both be dead. So you can say what you want about her methods, but I have to thank her for saving me. She's suffered enough. Please, let her go home.”
A couple weeks later, I was back on the bus to the prison. This time, when it stopped, I didn't get off, and when I smiled at the parolee who got on, she responded with a hug that left my shoulder damp and didn't end until the driver asked us for probably the third time to take a seat.
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I loved my father. But I love money.
As the sole heir to a rich family business, I would have been able to inherit my father's positions and power after his retirement. But who likes to play second fiddle to their father?
If it so happened that an "accident" happened to occur... Would it really be so wrong to claim my inheritance a little early?
The only loose end is the killer in prison. He was not meant to be caught. He did well to carry out his task and keep a few secrets. Blackmail always provides an extra incentive to be loyal.
As common courtesy dictates, it would be rude of me to not acknowledge him for services rendered. I'm on my way to say a final "thank you".
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[WP] You challenged Death to a game of chess, in exchange for his banishment from this mortal plane. You won. For 250,000 years, Death has not returned.
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"Every day I think about the Game. I was young and foolish then, seeing Death as an end to the cycle, unnecessary. In all honesty, I didn't even win fair and square, Death became offended by some of my cruder remarks on his character and quit to teach me a lesson...and what a lesson its been.
252,017 years since a single thing has died. At first, people were ecstatic, but as the years wore on it became clear that death is needed as much as life. Everything living forever simply does't work out too well in terms of natural processes, and as the only intelligent life-form, humans had to become the new managers of death.
Thankfully, our technological abilities allowed for the computation of life-times, and through that our ability to manage life and death revolutionized our understanding of the Universe, and of each other.
As the sole human with true knowledge of Death's departure, I took it upon myself to found this company those many years ago, with the goal of managing Death, and through that Life. Since then, with the help of everyone here today we have become the largest business entity in the known Universe, and continue to expand.
In Death, lies power!"
The boss stood behind his platinum plated podium, looking pleased as the applause poured in. I grimaced, just wanting to get back to my desk and start the days work. He made a big deal about going around to every planet-hub, talking to employees personally and the such.
"Unfortunately, this sector hasn't been performing quite as well as most others, and I have some sad news for you today. You have been chosen as our yearly life-cut, and you know how it goes-once you're chosen, that's it."
This time, it wasn't applause that erupted in the room, but screams of fear and anger as a fine mist was injected into the room via the ducts. Just my luck, I thought, as the mist overtook me and the boss's hologram shimmered into nonexistence. Should've called in sick today.
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You set the black knight down with a final *clack.*
(The sound echoes, hollowly. You do not know what these chess pieces are made of – you do not *want* to know, but you have a good guess nevertheless.)
"Checkmate," you say in a voice too rarely used, and you know without looking up that your opponent's face is turning pale enough to match their bone-white pieces.
(You would like to say that you understand the feeling, except that you really, really don't, and isn't that just the whole problem here?)
"Well, it was worth the try," says your opponent finally as she stands. "May I ask a question, though?"
You do look up, then. "I don't think that's how this works, but go ahead." It's not like *any* of this is how it's supposed to be, anyway.
"Why aren't you playing white? I thought, what with the pale horse and everything..."
You almost laugh at that one. The irony is entirely unmissable, even for someone taking swings in a dark room with just a baseball bat. You wouldn't even know how to ride a horse if you had one, for starters. "*Death* plays white. I'm just the stand-in here."
She blinks hard, surprised. "You're just th– *how* did that even – "
"Ah, ah," you say (honestly, this is the most you've talked in... a century? two?), waving her towards the exit. "One question only, that's what you said. Better chance next life!"
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[WP] You challenged Death to a game of chess, in exchange for his banishment from this mortal plane. You won. For 250,000 years, Death has not returned.
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"Every day I think about the Game. I was young and foolish then, seeing Death as an end to the cycle, unnecessary. In all honesty, I didn't even win fair and square, Death became offended by some of my cruder remarks on his character and quit to teach me a lesson...and what a lesson its been.
252,017 years since a single thing has died. At first, people were ecstatic, but as the years wore on it became clear that death is needed as much as life. Everything living forever simply does't work out too well in terms of natural processes, and as the only intelligent life-form, humans had to become the new managers of death.
Thankfully, our technological abilities allowed for the computation of life-times, and through that our ability to manage life and death revolutionized our understanding of the Universe, and of each other.
As the sole human with true knowledge of Death's departure, I took it upon myself to found this company those many years ago, with the goal of managing Death, and through that Life. Since then, with the help of everyone here today we have become the largest business entity in the known Universe, and continue to expand.
In Death, lies power!"
The boss stood behind his platinum plated podium, looking pleased as the applause poured in. I grimaced, just wanting to get back to my desk and start the days work. He made a big deal about going around to every planet-hub, talking to employees personally and the such.
"Unfortunately, this sector hasn't been performing quite as well as most others, and I have some sad news for you today. You have been chosen as our yearly life-cut, and you know how it goes-once you're chosen, that's it."
This time, it wasn't applause that erupted in the room, but screams of fear and anger as a fine mist was injected into the room via the ducts. Just my luck, I thought, as the mist overtook me and the boss's hologram shimmered into nonexistence. Should've called in sick today.
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While it is generally pretty nice to effectively be immortal it has its fault as well.
To start of money is kind of an issue. You might think that just becuase I am old as shit I know a lot. Which granted is true. BUT, I can not really put that on display can I? I have to pick a career or a couple and stick to them until a few decades have gone by and then I can effectivly break the cycle and start again. As for telling people of my immortality, have you ever seen The Man From Earth...? Yea, not that great of an idea after all.
So sure, I have saved up some money, but poeple expect me to die and here I am not dying at all. Which means I pretty much have to switch banks, get new identities and so forth, which is not an easy task to do. So I do not have much more money than the average person does. Maybe I could go into a field which pays a lot, but that would be inadvicable since getting too much attention would not be very good for my cover. So generally I keep myself busy with more "important but low-key" jobs.
As for my "firend" Mr. Death I am uncertain what his or hers or it or whatever the fuck deal is. I get that he probably wants to honor his end of the deal but it seems rather odd that seemingly no one else has done this. And with my expertise that I have aquired over the years I should be able to spot any potential fellow immortal.
That brings me to my own theories and conclusions. If I was Death, I probably would have quite long ago. So whatever Death is, it probably is not human. So what is it? Just some dude who got stuck with a shitty job, or is it like litterally death? Like is it cancer is it ebola or how does it work?
While I have pondered these quiestions for many years, the answers I have come up with seems rather farfetched. Eventually I might get some closure as to what is going on, but I suspect it might be some time until then.
Until next time.
/N.D.
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[WP] You run a bar that exists on the edge of reality. Your usual patrons include cosmic horrors, eldritch abominations and elder gods.
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Our shitters are gender neutral. Well, let’s just say neutral since most of these lowlifes have too many holes and parts to be useful for anything resembling sex. When these jerks come in from the bar, all semblance of civility goes right down the commode with their excretions when they manage to get it in the actual commode. An asshole, a literal asshole monster had floated in here ten minutes ago and fled the bar shortly after, leaving behind a trail of purple goo worming from the restroom door to the exit portal.
“Jesus Christ,” I said scanning the broad purple whooshes on the walls. It was like a child’s wall mural masterpiece of levity and playfulness. Through the smoke of my gnawed cigar, the smell of freshly picked rose petals smashed with a turd hammer crawled up my nose and refused to leave. Wisps of acidic vapor rose from the floor where chunks of purple separated from that on the wall and splattered down.
The nozzled hose I carried in with me was my typical tactical loadout for shitter duty. A fifty meter hi-pressure plastic tube fed back behind the bar to a nozzle flanked by a dainty shrine to a few low-on-the-totem-pole, but morally decent, deities. Squeezing the nozzle summoned a quick liquid blessing, a harsh spiritual solvent for those dirty jobs. A blast of rainbowed sparkle juice coned from the nozzle and cut through the purple goo, thinning it, causing it to run down the walls, pool on the floor and finally circle into the drain.
Just outside the restroom I asked the nearby blob sitting at a table nursing a Miller Lite, “Yog, teach that asshole to use the goddamn commode will ya?”
Most of Yog-Sothoth’s eyes left the television and spun around to gaze into the nethers of my soul. They blinked in unison. That usually means it agrees.
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"Yeah, so I hear it's harder to make people go mad," the bartender says.
"Gurgle Gurgle Blah," a slightly drunk elder god says.
"Politics ruin everything, man but how about we change the topic, your drink seems to be empty, want another one," the bartender hates talking about politics, he hated it in a normal bar and he hates it in this one.
"Gargle," the elder god says.
"Nice choice, coming right up," the bartender says.
He gets into his work mood, and that's when the magic happens, he shakes and makes drinks like no one from the center of reality to its edge. In the heat of the moment, he doesn't notice how the owner of the bar gets out of his office and seats down at a table looking at him. The drink is ready and the elder god gulps the weird looking liquid down; it helps him forget how he can't drive people mad anymore, and his cosmic bosses and his wife will scream at him. The bartender notices his boss
"Hey boss, didn't see you there, how's work?" he asks out of tact.
"Nothing much, we're having a great week so far, all thanks to you," the boss answers carefully choosing his words.
"That sounds like a raise to me," the bartender adds eyeing the boss.
"We'll see," the boss adds trying to be as vague as possible.
The elder god looks at them talk and wonder how two mere humans can be so calm at the edge of reality. He gets distracted when the door opens and cosmic horror of smaller rank comes in. They both cross eyes, the cosmic horror looks down first. At least he can still scare these low lives, the elder god smiles and offers that cosmic horror a drink, which he accepts humbly. The bartender nods to his boss and goes back to work. Both the creatures sit on the magic wooden stools and discuss some cosmic sport and the latest conquerings of their world. The speakers are set to minimum, and out of them cames a cacophony of sound, an old piece by an eldritch abomination.Mixing, the bartender is lost in his own world, the boss feels perfect at bay, this place is exactly what he wanted to own his entire life.
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