Shit, a Stargate

Once again this is not a new post but an oldie from Reddit's writing prompt subreddit: the prompt for this on was "You discover your butthole is a stargate". This is what I came up with.

"Let's try anal tonight." My boyfriend said as casual as if it were anything else. As causal as if he was telling me we were going to have pizza tonight. I never did anal before; it seemed odd and distant to me, but I mulled it over and agreed. I was in a mood where I was down to try new things. It also was a good choice because a slip up in my health care coverage had me missing the last month of my birth control.

What was the worst that could happen?

We were in the bedroom he was kissing me up and down, sucking on my breasts, with two fingers deep inside my vagina. He then made his way to the backdoor. One finger shoved in: he twisted it to the right; he twisted it to the left, smacked my ass, stuck another finger in, and twisted to the right. A loud rumbling started, I began shaking like I was having a seizure. He pulled his fingers out, and fell backwards and fell to the floor.

"Babe. . . uhhh. . . "

I was in tears and couldn’t answer him as I saw a beam of blue light flow from my asshole and watched as a tall muscular brunette woman armed like an ancient roman soldier step out of me. My body stopped shaking. The woman lifted a long spear and shoved it into my boyfriend’s neck. His blood spattered along the green walls of my bedroom, and onto my white comforter. I stood frozen as the woman ran off and out of my house. I called 911.

“So what you’re telling me lady is that a female dressed as a Roman centurion crawled out of your ass and killed your boyfriend?”

I sat there exhausted tired and I just wanted to go home. I nodded. The police office started to laugh again. It seemed it got funnier every time he repeated my story.

“Maybe we should call Kurt Russell and have him lead an expedition into your asshole.” He laughed some more.

After hours of laughter my lawyer finally arrived, and though I could tell he thought I was a complete loon he demanded a doctor come and take a look into my ass.

The doctor arrived. She was a beautiful blonde with a breasts that would rival Kate Upton’s, and as a former practicing lesbian, I approved of my lawyers choice. She put a glove on with a bit of lube: she shoved it into my ass and followed the same pattern I described that my boyfriend did that fateful night as a butch female officer and my lawyer looked on.

Once her second finger was inserted and turned to the right I began shaking as a radiant light exploded from my ass and two Roman centurion women sprang from my asshole. The glanced around at the room said something that may have been Latin and killed my lawyer, the only male in the room.

A few days later news was all over the city that three women dressed as Roman Centurion’s were killing every male they came across. Panic was in the air. I was brought in by two female CIA agents, as the men were terrified to be seen in public. They flew me to Langley and entered the same code that the doctor and my boyfriend had entered. This time no one came out of my ass instead a group of secret service women climbed in.

What they are doing in there I will know when they come back: if they come back, but until then I wander my room in CIA headquarters pantless waiting for a blue light and the CIA agents to emerge with answers.

I should have never tried anal.

The Ugly Barnacle

I really am trying to write a novel right now and I am completly failing, but I am trying so there is no new content for this platform so in the meantime here is another old Reddit post for your enjoyment. The prompt on this one was "write a sequal to Patrick's ugly barnacle story".

"Wait, uhhhh Spongebob, that's not the end. Stay there and I'll tell you more. . .

The ugly barnacle was searching the seas for some way to bring the world back that his ugliness killed. He once heard rumors of a mystic being on an island in warmer seas that had the capability to bring back creatures that were long dead and gone with just a small piece of DNA.

So the ugly barnacle took hair from the sea horses mane, a tooth from a shark, a tentacle from Squidward, and any of the other beings whose bodies were strewn about Bikini Bottom's streets. He loaded everything up into his boat mobile and sped off in hopes to bring life back to the sea.

He came sped through a large canal as massive boats floated above. A few hours later he came to where the island was supposed to be: where the magic Wizard would be. He took a deep breath and drove his boat out of the water and up onto the shore. A large wooden sign placed on a dock by the beach read "Isla Nublar".

"It must be a in some type of Wizard talk. This must be the place." The ugly Barnacle thought to himself.

He drove his boat through thick jungle until he approached a large wooden gate. How would he open this, he was but a small sea creature and this was a massive door. He parked the boat and thought to himself. He thought and thought. He was deep in this thought when a large land boat approached the gate causing it to open wide. The Ugly Barnacle took advantage and entered.

He drove past massive fences with massive creatures, like none he had ever seen before, caged behind them. They roared and screamed as he sped by. Eventually he came to a large building. "This must be the Wizards castle." he said with a sigh of relief.

Stairs. He didn't plan for stairs, he was but a small sea barnacle and these were a giant wizards stairs. He drove round and round the White building until he came across a ramp. He chugged his little boat up the ramp and entered the building through a hole made by a rodent.

He found the Wizard and his white coated henchmen hard at work, maybe they were already working on fixing the sea.

He parked his boat next to a wondrous amber sphere and began shouting for the Wizard. No one replied. He kept screaming when he heard one of the coated giants speak. "John, come look at this!"

John that was the wizard’s name, the barnacle knew it was the wizard. He had white hair and walked with his wizard staff. It was a wood with one of the amber spheres fixed to the end. That must be where his magic came from. John The Wizard walked over and picked up the boat in his hands and examined it.

"What do you make of it Mr. Hammond?"

The wizard finally spoke, "As we know the earth’s supply of seafood has ran dry, and is threatening our work here and the entire food chain of the planet."

"Food chain? What is the wizard talking about?" wondered the barnacle.

The wizard continued: "This hideous little barnacle seems to have brought us DNA from some sea creatures. We must begin replicating these and bringing the sea back to life. We shall spare no expense!"

The coated minions began to cheer the wizard’s words, and they scurried around busier than pack of Jelly Fish making sweet honey. They unloaded the Barnacle's boat, and went to work. The ugly barnacle drove back to the sea and headed back to Bikini Bottom.

He knew that if he was in the sea when his underwater companions were returned it would create the same mess again. He drove his boat mobile out to the Goo Lagoon. He parked on the beach and watched the sunset. It was a glorious one; the bright orange sky illuminated the sky flowers that seemed to float mysteriously by. A tear ran down the barnacle's cheek as he drove his boat into the lagoon.

Love Reconciled

I said in my last post I am currently struggling to focus on a novel for NaNoWriMo 2016 (I'm failing) and while I work on that I would be posting things I posted on Reddit's writing prompt subreddit. The prompt for the following story was 'You are about to commit suicide when a note falls from the sky.' Enjoy.

I stand in an open field in a foot of snow under a grey sky; I need to get to the tree where I first met her. I could see the tree in the distance waving at me, its icy fingers begging me to continue: I take a deep breath. I was starting to sweat so I strip off my heavy North Face jacket and toss it into the field to be found during the spring thaw. The cool air felt good against my arms now exposed in the short sleeve shirt. She bought it for me on our first anniversary. It has our wedding picture on the front with the date of the ceremony and our initials.

I miss her.

I touch her screen printed face and make my way through the heavy powder to the weeping willow waving at me in the wind.

I lean myself against the heavy trunk to catch my breath. I finally begin breathing regularly again and I scan the trunk for our names that we carved in it when we first met. They were wrapped in a heart with the date of our first encounter here. I pull a knife from my pocket and carve today’s date officially ending our love in this world.

I still love her.

I pull the hand gun from my pocket, cock it and put it to my temple. I feel warm tears running down my cheek, my finger shakes as I slide it over the trigger.

Maybe I shouldn’t do this. I pull the gun from my head and drop to my knees. I am kneeling in the snow weeping when the sky clears and a white paper falls from the sky. I unfold it; it’s a hand written note

James,

You are almost there. Pull the trigger and we will be together again.

It is her hand writing: a message from heaven. I put the gun to my head again.

“I’m coming my love”

My finger pulls the trigger all the way.

Nuclear Code

Last year I did a few posts in response to topics on the the Writing Prompt Reddit and since rite now I am in the middle of trying to work on my Novel for NaNoWriMo I have no time to post anything new, so for the rest of the month I will be posting some of them on here. The prompt for this following post (fitting for this year) was you have to tell the president that there nuclear weapons do not exist. This is what I came up with, enjoy. 

I stepped into the oval office as the President was returning from giving a heated speech usher the threat of nuclear war against the Russians.

“Great speech, sir.”

“Thank you General. Now send out the request for all nuclear bases to be on standby.”

“ I can’t do that Mr. President.”

“You can and you will, you cannot defy an executive order Nathaniel.”

“No, no sir, I would love nothing more than to send nuclear bombs over Baghdad.”

“Moscow, we are going to nuke Russia not Iraq.”

“Sorry sir I was listening to Outkast on my way over here.” I took a seat across from the President at his desk, “So, listen, we don’t have them.”

“Don’t have what?” He confusingly asked.

“Nukes.” I watched as he started to laugh, “not a joke, sir, we do not have nuclear capabilities; never have.”

“Never have? What are you on drugs?”

“Several, but that’s not the point here the; point is we cannot put any nuclear bases on high alert because there are no nukes.”

“No nukes? This is absurd. We have been threatening the use of these things for years; I have attended summits with world leaders to lower the number we have.” He slumped back into his chair, “and here you are telling me they don’t exist.”

“I didn’t say they don’t exist. I just said we don’t have them. I have no idea if they are real or not.”

“Do the Russians have them?”

“Our intelligence says they are faking too, but I just don’t want to say they don’t exist it’s a broad statement. I once met Big Foot at a concert in Edmonton, but people say he doesn’t exist. So, as far as we know they aren’t real.”

“You are shitting me?”
"Not at all, he is a big fan of folk music and he can roll a blunt better than anyone I've met."
Not about Bigfoot, the nukes you moron."

“No sir. We don’t have them and we are sure no one has them.”

He rubbed his eyes and looked at me. He was silent for a few moments before he asked the question I knew was coming:

“What about World War Two? We used them on Japan.”

“False. We told everyone we used them, to scare the world in the years following the war. “

“I have seen the photos of the destruction. If there are no nukes how do you explain that?”

“Godzilla.”

“Excuse me?”

“Godzilla, sir.”

“Godzilla? You really are on drugs.”

“Yes sir, I am.”

“What about the Manhattan project?”

“Big card game and pet-sitting for Godzilla.”

“God fucking Zilla? Nukes are not real but a giant fire breathing lizard?”

“He doesn’t really breathe fire that was made up movie bullshit. He just really likes crushing shit.”

“Where is he?”

“Who?”

“Godzilla, if he is real where is he?”

“Ummm, that’s a good question.”

“You don’t know where he is?”

“No sir, I’m not his handler.”

“Who is?”

“Albert Einstein.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yes, he isn’t dead, in fact he isn’t human. He is an alien, he came here with his pet lizard and did all sorts of science shit and now he is with Godzilla somewhere.”

“Can he crush Moscow or some other Russian city?”

“No, no, Albert is far too small for crushing of any kind.”

“Not Einstein you imbecile: Godzilla. Can he be released on Russia instead?”

“I guess so, though he isn’t fond of the cold weather, so it may have to wait until l summer. I’ll try to get a handle on their position.” I stood up and left the oval office leaving the president to his own confused thoughts.

Haiku Volume 13

I was recently told that it has been quite some time since I last posted some haiku, so I decided I would take a little bit of time to get my Geoffrey on and whip some up.

So without any long winded intro here are some!

I

Guns blare and bombs fall.

Children cry while mothers die.

Casualties of war.

II

Drips of morning dew

glisten in the orange glow;

jack-o-lantern tears.

III

Fearful folks follow

ghouls, ghosts, goblins gobbling

up sugary sweets.

IV

A lonely red leaf

dancing gently in the wind:

crisping in the sun.

V

Black clouds hover high

above my head and rain is

mere moments away.

VI

Brown skin, luscious lips

whispering sensually;

a desert mirage.

VII

Cold brown corneas

rip out my soul without words—

love never explored.

The Other Editions

Volume 1

Volume 2

Volume 3

Volume 4

Volume 5

Volume 6

Volume 7
Volume 8
Volume 9
Volume 10
Volume 11

Volume 12

Behind The Music

Good day folks! Today I am bringing you what people who actually blog call a link up thing-a-ma-jig. This one (as you can see in the above image) is brought to you by my Good friend Alyssa over at her blog where she goes bang. Now she gave ten prompts and the goal, for me any way, is to just try and explore and explain myself a bit more, which I don’t do quite often her as this as become a place more for my creative writing than a place to discuss life.

She gave ten of these prompts, but knowing how inconsistent I am this one will be the only one I post. Now knowing I am not Alyssa’s target audience and not her typical reader I may end up being the only guy in this link up, but that is just an assumption and something I really don't care about.

Ok, I guess this is enough introduction to the post now allow me to get to my damn point.

The first prompt I am going to try and tackle is actually going to be prompt number one: Three (or however many you choose) songs that define your life and why. Now, those of who know me know that I love music, and for those of you who are new to this place: Hi my name is Dan and I love music, but there is a difference between loving music and trying to think about the songs that define me, or have defined a point in my 29 year long history, or even just help me reflect on who I am and where I want to be and for that I had to put in a lot of thought because I’m getting old and my memory is going.

Dreamerz- Joe Budden feat Emmany:

For those of you unfamiliar with Joe he is a rapper from New Jersey (most famous for ‘Pump it Up’ also his song ‘Fire’ was in Mean Girls) and my personal favorite artist and the reason for this is simple: his music is relatable. His music is human. It's full of emotions and anyone who has ever dealt with love, heartbreak, depression, rejection, addiction, loss and really any other emotion or feeling can find solace in some of his words.

That will do for the artist, now onto this particular song. ‘Dreamerz’ is a song that is relatable to anyone who was in a relationship that kind of just deteriorated, as I have been. “Was on the same page:just in different books. There’s so much I want to say, but I got no ground because we ain’t break up, more like broke down.” It was these couple of bars that really felt close to my situation, this is how I used to define the end of this long term relationship. I always held it in the back of my head that I was really to blame in the deterioration of what I thought was a strong relationship and I think it was this that made me realize that no matter how much work I put in or how well I think things are sometimes shit just doesn't work. As Joe says sometimes ‘shit that's doesn't breathe can die too.’

April 29th, 1992- Sublime:

I remember sitting in the bedroom I shared with my two brothers (one older and one younger) and my older brother would play this song all the time, and when he was gone I found myself playing it over and over. Though I was only 9 and didn't really understand what the song was about (now I do, but what 9 year old in the suburbs was thinking about racial injustice and police brutality?) I memorized every single lyric. This was the first song I could sing without having to even have the song playing and that in itself is an important to me since my brain is broken up as follows. Everytime the song plays I can’t help but jam out and think back to a time when I was without bills and my only responsibilities were cleaning my room and raking leaves. It reminds me of an easier time full of Sega Genesis and beating up and getting beat up by my siblings; oh the joyous bliss of childhood.

Walk With Me, Calm Down, 10 Minutes- Joe Budden:

I have a love of hip hop music and I think Joe Budden’s self titled album is where it all began. I listened to hip hop before this album came out though it was more Eminem or the gangster hip hop that my brother was listening to, which I did and do enjoy, but it was this album and these three songs in general that really took it to another level. It showed me how introspective Hip Hop could be. I know this was Eminem’s M.O. on his first two albums as well, but for some reason Joe’s lyrics really got to me and also showed me that the hip hop that played on the radio was watered down and I needed more, so I had to dig deep to find hip hop that wasn’t just about killing people and dealing drugs and Joe Budden fits that mold. Name one other solo artist who was able to have a 10 minute long song about relationship issues, family issues and all the other issues that came with his newfound fame? Not even Em would be able to get away with that on a major label.

Why was this introspection important to me when this album came out and to me to this day? Because like all people i have shit in my head, but unlike others I never ever speak about anything so I turn to music for therapy and since 2003 Joe has been one of my therapists whose raw emotion and unfiltered music has helped through a lot of difficult times in my life.

I recommend you go through his discography and give it a listen, if you want particular song recommendations I'll be here.

Ain’t No Fun- Snoop Dogg

Moving to a lighter note I’ll take us back to when I was in my early 20s being forced to go out to crowded Morristown bars on Friday or Saturday nights. I never really wanted to go to these places, I hate crowds, I hate loudness, I hate overpriced drinks, and I hate being out until 2 in the damn morning. This isn’t just me know as a 80 year old in a 29 year old body, but this was me as a 70 year old in a 21 year old body: I have always been a grump. But I can’t say there weren't times when I did have fun out, and those times where I wasn’t being a super grump I made sure to go up to the DJs who were usually playing awful techno remixes or top 40 music and requested this song, not only because it would be a nice change of pace, but also to watch everyone's reaction when it started playing or the DJ laugh at us requesting the song, but more often than not they played the song for us and it made the night a bit more tolerable.

Talking Body- Tove Lo

This whole album (minus one song) is my jam, but this song in particular just reminds me of a certain person whom I wish was in my life more often and who I miss dearly. A person who has been an inspiration for many of my poems. A person who always built up confidence in myself and my ability even when I was doubting myself. Everytime this song comes on I think of her and all she represented. That’s really it on this song, but it played while I was writing this so I added it here.

This Old House

An old Victorian standing tall on a shaded street

as a low-slung sun slouches behind.

Cats scatter as the breeze whips through the open door;

a static-filled television buzzes and

dust dances delicately in the daylight.

Creaking steps drop deeper into the earth's core

where a stench of rotting flesh fills the caverns.

A deranged doctor diligently dissects cadavers

atop a frozen burgundy steel table.

Bodies stack on top of bodies as

blood pools on the foundation floor.

Silence is broken by screaming

of a fresh victim cut limb to limb.

Each stacked on others like it:

arms with arms,

legs with legs,

and heads dangling like a chandelier

dripping down drenching anyone near.

The final sight at life's end

deep beneath a suburban cul de sac.