We were like a team—always together. We were always getting into trouble; always bending the rules. Always in the action, always barking up the trees and throwing water balloons at trespassers. We ran around, we laughed and we spent nights gossiping and planning for our next trouble.

Day by day, our laughs grew and our jokes grew more serious. The neighbors complained and we sneaked away; laughing as we egged the next door neighbor’s house. Night by night, our planning turned much to the wicked side and we knew we were just screwing ourselves over with these new jokes. We knew the neighbors would freak, the cops would come flying outta no where and that jail would become our sanctuary. But we were cool, we were a team and we were ready to release the hate and get the show on the road!

We wore black, we wore face masks and we snickered. Knife in my hand, gun in his—we were prepared. Through the gate, into the garden and to the front door. There she was. Sleeping on her ol’ rockin’ chair as normal. He loaded the gun, I held the knife and like a team, we did a number on her!

We laughed. Cold blooded killers; we coulda swore we’d be called. But we didn’t care. The deed was done and we were grinning. We held hands and danced around her bleedin’ body as we laughed at her strung out arms and bulging eyes. She was dead; he screamed as he kissed my cheek and danced me around the garden. We tip toed outta the garden and closed the gate. We did it and we were prouder than the time we slipped a neighbor poison. We shot, we stabbed—we did it! Our courage was there, our adrenalin was running free and we were happier than can be!

“That old hag! She’s dead now!” he screamed as he took out a bottle of whiskey from the fridge.

I smiled; I locked my eyes on his and said “Finally we did it, Jim. Finally! I never thought we had the guts to do it.”

“Well, we sure as hell did it! What ya say I take you out to dinner tomorrow night?”

“I’d be flattered!”

“It’s a date then,” he grinned as he took a sip of whiskey from the bottle.

“Pictures? We never took them!”

“Fuck! You’re right,” Jim shrieked as he pulled out the digital camera from his pocket, “we outta sneak back and get ‘em done!”

We ran on out of the house. We opened the gate and we tip toed through the garden. She was laying there. We laughed; we laughed like a bunch of drunken teens that never thought there was anything funnier.”

He snapped the pictures and after a few alone shots, I posed next to her, then so did he. A few dozen shots later and we were satisfied and snuck outta there. We kick her god damn rocking chair and saw the bitch fall. We laughed like we were drunker than hell. A loud thud and she was lying stiff on the ground.  

“That fucking bitch!” Jim laughed as he got on top of her and smacked her face as he took the knife from my hands and stabbed her in the right eye. “That’s what you get, you pathetic fuck!”

My laughing full-blasted when he stood up and I saw his blood-covered shirt.

“Like it?” he laughed as he came closer to me and kissed me on the neck.

“Oh, yea! Blood on you is sexy!” I snickered as I ran my hand down the front of his shirt.

He opened the gate and whispered into my ear “I’ll make you bleed,” and then he winked. He took the knife and delicately sliced it into my arm, just deep enough to draw blood. I layed my head on him and said “Damn, you know how to make everything perfect!” He held me in his arms and said “It can’t get any more perfect than this!” and he wiped the blood from the cut with a tissue and held my head on his shoulders with his hand.

"Are you an alien?" I question, until I realize how stupid a question that was when it was obvious!

Blank eyes, lips pierced in a dumbfounded manner, a face without emotion.

I walk closer to this alien being. It backs away, its arms out and its mouth in a bitter manner and then it trips on a rock and falls to the ground.

I hold my hand out as a gester for the alien to grab on so I can help it up. Sharp claws pierce out of the tips of its fingers as it grabs at my hand.

I scream "You're clawing me!" as I pull my hand away, yet its claws are still ripping into my skin.

"You're clawing me!" I scream again. I take my left hand and start to pull off its hand. Suddenly, it looks at me, its eyes spooked and its mouth opened. I yank my hand away and fall to the ground. I'm taking my hands and backing my body away as it starts coming at me, its Great White shark teeth in site and its lips curled over.

"Please! Please!" I start to cry. "Don't hurt me!" and I'm at the point where tears are rolling down my face, my heart is beating a mile a minute and I don't know what to do, besides back away.

STORY TO BE FINISHED ONCE I'M DONE WITH SCHOOL TODAY!! I promise this time! :-)

"Haha, what a dumbass," laughs a preppy teenager in the 9th grade to her friends while pointing at the gym teacher. She goes on snapping her gum and looking at photos of last night's party on her friend's iPhone.

"I'd watch your mouth," comes the voice of a soft spoken 12th grade guy, whose stance was awkward and arched, peering at the preppy girl.

"Whatev!" cries out the preppy girl, whose name is Sandra Younging. She rolls her eyes dramatically at the 12th grader, Sam Wald, whose eyes are centered with hers.

"S'cuse me?" Sam intentionally questions Sandra, as he gawks at her spaghetti strapped shirt, whose straps are too thin. "You're violating dress code, you know?"

"Yea, and who do you think you are? The dress code police?" she laughs, so do her friends. They look him up and down and Sandra continues "Could you look any less pathetic?" and she pops her gum and turns back to her friends and the iPhone.

Sam pulls her by her right shoulder, face-to-face, in a gloomy expression he hisses "How about I tell you I'm a NARK. Would you believe that then, little Miss All That?"

Her eyes roll once before she takes her hands and pushes him away, in a challenging manner, while in a sassy voice replies "You a NARK? Paaalease! I've heard better from a retard!"

He snickers at her push and remark. "And I've seen better hair than yours on a bum's ass!"

She glares at him, her eyebrows narrowing as she looks into his eyes. She throws an uptight look on her face as she walks off, going on and on to her friend that that "kid" over there was a total jackass. He couldn't help but laugh in his mind as he thought of his defeat.

--more coming soon!--

Well I haven't really ever posted on here as I doubt anyone reads it, so I figure... why log onto the account to blog?

But I figured might as well.

I'm usually blogging on the caviary blog, but I really love talking about non-cavy things too nowadays, or at least writing about them.

So here's something that I wrote while I was bored in Texas....

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They walked, they talked and they swam among the ocean’s swift current. They laughed, they joked and played a prank in the ocean’s calming sighs of relief. They brushed their feet against the coral reef, they skipped through sea rocks that stood stories high and they tasted the bitterness of salt in their swallows. Throughout hours of sea bound fun, the best part of the day was the symmetry of the sunset that echoed each time it lit itself higher, the joyful chatter and the conversation that held itself abound in such intellectual boundaries and the waves that leaped out and grabbed at the beach’s dock. It was the hidden beauty that made the place such a desire. The dancing waves that set the sea on its wild adventure. The blue hues that set the course. And of course, the imagination that made all the sea monsters alive and the pirates fighting across the vast seas. Just a couple of kids playing in the ocean can lead to big fun. But your own imagination can lead you to deserted places where the last thing you’ll find is an ocean. All it takes is an open mind that has no set backs to lead it down to the scum of imagination.

 
---Now I'll make a new post on here to write about something else! :-)

The sea moved scornful, every mistake, regret and problem expressed from each wave that crashed against the sand in such a hostile movement, moving chunks of peaceful sand to its stomach, chugging it down, roaring for more. Wind roared in displeasement as it swirled around dry sand that screeched at its abduction. Seagulls squawked and flew with distinct precision, eyeing any crabs that dared to show themselves. Seahorses trotted around in the regal coral reefs, which held admirable colors, curving shapes and elegant beauty that never diluted down, even throughout the years. The pristine condition of the sea kept it vividly colored, while the salt brightened up its taste and vitable fashion. Fish swam in symbolic patterns through the engulfing ocean as they seeked out some kelp that floated freely and flashed its presence to the hungry fish, its leaves sighting the fish, causing savoring among them. The whole school of fish went into a feeding frenzy; toothless mouths attacking the kelp, each mouthful as delicious as a gourmet meal from the top quality restaurants of the world. The sky compromised rain, rain that shot down into the sand, changing its form, hardening it onto the ground. It’d rush out of a tipping bucket in thick chunks, blending in quickly with the rest of the slushy sand. Elegant and small, every piece of sand resembled a low lying star in the whole universe. Each piece making up a whole virtue of respectable mass. Its billions of pieces cushioning the feet of the animals, cushioning any from the smooth, yet hard and uncomfortable surface below.

Divine and part-taking, a horse’s hooves clipped at the sand of the beach, imprinting each step— each etched right into the very sand, wet with rainwater. Deceived and denied, the horse tests the ocean’s water, spittering at its salty contents and slimy texture, each drop containing of thousands of salt crystals, each vivifying its taste and fulfilling the need for more, its undesirable thirst make up, setting into place. Thirsty and tired, muscles swaying and swelling, legs restlessly moving, showing a story of scars, each taken in with the ocean’s moving eyes, the horse takes another sip, this time becoming fond of the taste. Seaweed washes itself astray on the beach, lying lifeless, yet its green lighting up, catching the horse’s curious eye. Barely wasting precious energy, the horse lowers its head and takes a half-hearted nibble, only trying the seaweed’s taste in small quantity, as not to waste it by spitting out. Aroused with delicious taste, the seaweed disappears and reappears in the horse’s stomach. High-arched crevices teeth lazily graze down the seaweed, which lets up with serenity and coexistence. Another bundle of seaweed washes ashore, its green merely arousing the horse to it, yet sun rays attent to it, the horse is in delight as the seaweed is crunched and swallowed in much delight. The ocean shows its pleasement with the horse’s approval of its crunching delight by calming its war-starting waves and swaying its winds to a calm state, barely moving the horse’s mane to the air, just enough to allow the sand free and the mane to heighten, every stand showing its brilliance through the brightly lit lighting, which awed breath-taking shadows that whispered the horse’s name into the ocean’s sands.

Shoulders rocking forward, legs kicking limply and wrists that hung low, the boy walked through the woods, each step leading towards his abusive dad, who leaned against an old Oak, grinning. The boy slowly lifted his dragging head which showed a spooked expression; lips pierced in an awkward manner and big brown eyes that dazed at an Evergreen that seemed to smile at him, its branches in a motherly posture, waiting for him to run his hands through its dense green braches that felt prickly and harsh. He tried so hard to walk to his dad who shouted cruel words at him, holding a bottle of hard liquor in his left hand, his smile cruel and wicked, holding little importance for his son. Some leafs whirled around, the branches of the trees swayed calmly, barely disturbing the amity of the forest atmosphere. His legs stiffened as he came into hitting range with his dad, who took his right hand and smacked the boy across his face, laughing wickedly while next taking the collar of the boy’s shirt and pulling him in, face to face. Another blow to the face, his hands pushing the boy away, threatening him with a knife darting at his face, the boy stood naïve and apathetic, each nerve lessening, freezing up, loosing its self defense. The knife tore through his skin. His nerves barely responded, his motor skills were negative. Blood poured from his chest puncture. He grabbed at the wound and tears came to his glaring eyes. He thumped to the ground. Lifeless, he lay. Yet the birds chirped, the sun shined and the forest held its peace, while his dad smiled, throwing the knife to the ground, just staring at the body with a satisfied smile that aroused the Earth’s attention, never letting go of those eyes that shined with dignity and power.

It was a cool summer night in June when I first found out the devastating news regarding the results of the humble man that worked at the high school and made everyone feel at home with his moving words and his awkward smile. That smile that only made me want to grin soothingly and think of the calming summer mornings that were cool and refreshing. My jaw was dropped as far as a ten story high building is tall and my eyes showed the mood-- the tears running down my face like a river in its peakest time of year. I just couldn't believe it! He seemed so energetic, so healthy, so fantastic and full of life! He always had a soothing feeling to his big, baby blue eyes that trapped my patience with their vivid color that never seemed to dim down, even after a long day at the school. But the look he always had in his eyes, it made me feel that I could just walk inside of his mind and play around with all the controls and still see warmth and freedom in them as he wouldn't even let the most crude comment put him down in the dumps. 

I was in denial as I would just say to myself “Yea right! This seems like a joke to me!" Yet as much as I wanted to think that, deep down I knew I couldn't keep denying the truth and think he was seemingly fine. He sure hid the pain easily. He sure hid the hurting feelings that would put anyone down. He sure hid the suffering that ached his body all over and tired him out. He sure did play the right act of feeling good and like a healthy good-to-go sort of person. I could only awe over his qualities to easily hide the pain he felt and the horror he had knocked up inside his head. But on the shallow side of the pond, I could only imagine the pain he had to put up with on a daily basis. Tears that could have streamed down his face seemed only logical in such a situation, but as I heard, he took it with little emotion and just kept on chugging along, not daring to reopen the file in his head that he was ill. That he was dying; slowly, but surely. 

He seemed to take life to its fullest. He partied long and hard. He drank up the booze and only hoped he wouldn't be run out the door for more. He never let the petty comments or self-inflicted issues get to his inner emotions, nor did he let the shallow-backed people let him down and ruin a good time in itself. He would tell me to just smile at the backstabbing and laugh at the insults. I could only bite my lip at that, as I thought that it was easier said than done. I took the backstabbing as hard as he took the falls from the roof and the insults made me dim down in the corners and cry. I could just imagine all the rumours that would spread and that made me want to sleep for days and never wake up. Whenever I heard them laugh and point at me, I only wanted to burn up and be gone. He told me to just hold my shoulders high and honor myself for having the dignity to not give others hell. I smiled and held him close to me as I told him all the little secrets I felt I could get his advice on, so I could just throw them on the wall and be gone with them. With a slight smile and a soothing deep voice, he gave me so much advice that I thought I'd need a pen and paper to write it all down! I gawked at his eyes as he'd tell me all his advice, yet I paid my fullest attention to his words and tried to make them out as best as I could. He spoke such big words that a kid like me just couldn't get to its fullest, yet as smart as he was, he was just a young janitor. He went through six years of college, only to be shot off the bat for the high-up jobs, as even though they told him they'd hire him in seconds, he had a past problem of illegal drug use and they just couldn't afford hiring him in fear that he'd dip his feet into the deep end and get started in drugs again. But instead of sulking, he told me that he'd just get a simple job, like being a janitor, so he could at least have some income, as he tried to better himself and look for the better jobs. He had a Masters degree in Engineering, yet he was in Honors English while in College and graduated with high honors. He was so intelligent and I just couldn't believe he was into drugs before. 

He would always tell me life lessons that held such vivid details that I couldn't lock my mind around what sensual memory he had! The tiniest details he could remember. I felt as if I were there when he explained situations to me. I felt I could just walk into the word-filled pictures he told me and sit through them all and never be bored from such experiences. I learned much more from him than any of my teachers, who tended to speak monotone with little importance to the topic they were talking about. The teachers seemed determined only to hand out the homework rather than explaining the critical directions for us to better understand the assignment. But Jared, the young janitor, he would explain it like it was his instinct to understand it all! I just kept an open jaw as he told me what to do, as I didn't think in the least that I was suppose to do all he explained! It was the intellectual conversations we'd have that inspired me to try my hardest in my classes so I could pass with As and Bs, preferring the As rather than the Bs. I'd come running to him, arms ready to hug as I jumped at him and hugged him as I screamed that I got 100% on a test that I never though I could even excel at. He'd pat my back and as he held me tight, he'd whisper in my ear "See, with some discipline and extra work, the aftermath pays off!" and he winked. I buried my head in his chest as I thought of all the hours he'd tutor me after school, in the storage room of the school.  He put so much time and effort into helping me, helping me with my problems and school work. He even helped me solve a nasty fight I had with the principal, when he told the principal that I was just fooling around like any sixteen-year-old would do that just wants to have a little fun. The principal respected Jared highly, so he took his words in much importance and let me off the loose end. Yet the principal's grim facial expression when he released me from his office was enough to make me shudder and try to take my mistakes to the backburner.

I always questioned Jared about why he spent his sparing free hours from work to help me. I couldn't believe that he was kind enough to do that for someone like me. I always thought most adults could care less to help out kids, unless the kids are their own or they are paid professionals and juggle down the big bucks when they help the kids out.  His answer was plain and simple enough for anyone to understand. He'd always say "Because I love you enough to see you excel!" and he'd hold my head against his broad chest as he'd whisper just loud enough for me to barely hear "I just don't want to see you end up doing what I had done. Like how I took up drug addiction after I graduated college for a good year. I mean, I thought I was smart enough to never get into that kind of crap, but I guess it all depends how far you run around with the curiosity intact and ambition ready to bounce back at you." I just smiled and asked "Do you love me more than just a kid-friend that you met here?" He couldn't help but grin as he replied back "I'd be pushing the limits if I answered that truthfully, as I'm an adult and you're just a minor."  I sighed long and loud and he locked his eyes with mine as he went on "Sweetie, you know I'm just trying to be a well-rounded person, right? Me wanting you more than a friend would be pushing those limits. Please understand. It's for your own good." I felt like a gust of arctic breeze air just passed me as I downed the sentences he just told me. I felt young and child-like at the moment and wanted nothing more than to just sulk in the chair as others laughed at me. I felt rejected, yet I understood all he said. I was too young for him. Just a kid. My sulking shoulders aroused his deepest attention as he spoke softly "I never thought you had liked me than a friend, to be honest." I sighed as shallow as possible as I looked down at my shoes and mumbled "Ever since I first layed eyes on you, I liked you... more than a friend." "Well, you sure caught me dumbfounded by that! I never would have thought a sixteen-year-old would have liked a twenty-seven-year-old like me! It always seemed illogical to me, being as I don't even have a qualified job when I have the college and grade background to land me a big-time job," he replied back, his pearly white teeth shining through his lips, as he grinned joyfully. 

“Now I can finally say something back to you!” and my smile glowed with a devilish twist to it.

“And what would that be?” he replied back, winking his left eye.

 “That you’re too hard on yourself!”

“How so?”

“By the simple fact that you think you cannot impressive a sixteen-year-old. I mean, Jared, just look at you! I mean, your straight, gelled-back ash blonde hair that is naturally streaked with platinum blonde… your toned core, your muscles that are pumped as best as they could be… your baby blue eyes that shine like the Caribbean ocean on the most sun-filled day… your bronzed color tan that is flawless and your height of six-foot four! Talk about impressive!”

“I’m hard on myself because I don’t want to see that sixteen-year-old fall for me,” and he frowned, his eyes glaring at tubing that was on the floor of the storage room.

“What if that sixteen-year-old wants to fall for you?” I asked, keeping my hopes high, yet my options opened.

“So be it, but I won’t be falling for the sixteen-year-old… I’ve already felt the misery of a broken heart and I’m not willing to let things go like that again,” he sighed.

My hopes just went done the drain when he said that. Reassured, I felt not. Content wasn’t my dealting. Disappointment hit me harder than a pound of rocks thrown at my face. I didn’t know what to say just then. I could sense he knew I was talking about me when I merely mentioned the sixteen-year-old, but you know, I could always be wrong. So instead of trying to sense his meaning to this sixteen-year-old we talked about, I dug a shallow grave when I went on “What about me?”

This time he didn’t frown, he didn’t sigh nor did he give rejection to accept the taker. His eyes were now back on mine and his hopes held high. Just his smile led me astray. I just couldn’t think about was on his mind. What came to me was that he was snickering at the very thought of me and him together, as that seemed awkward and in displacement. Or whether he was in a hesitant-state and deciding how much he truly liked me. Either way, I was willing to swing the hopes around and land on the winner’s spot. I only hoped that the cheesy smile he now showed help an upmost importance that involved any sort of a relationship with a guy such as himself.

 “Christa,” he paused and held my right hand gently, “do you really want to know the answer?”

“Yes, Jared, I do!” I didn’t hesitate to the least.

For a guy that sure knew what he was talking about and had advancements in his English skills, he sure took quite a bit of time to compose what he was about to say. Seconds seemed like half hours and minutes seemed like hours. My patience was drawing to its closest nerve as I sighed in an impatient tone that he obviously caught on as a noise that meant he was taking too long and I couldn’t wait anymore.

“You must understand, sweetheart, that I have the same feelings about you as you have those feelings for me. The problem is our ages, hun. We’re eleven-years apart and we vary vast quantities when it comes to our life experiences and simple solutions,” his smile lit up more than I had ever seen before as he continued on, “even though we differ in ages and life experiences, I take what you are saying as an indication that you’d like me to ask you out?”

“Well, yes!” I didn’t hesitate to the least. I was trying to make my point clear-cut and straight to the punch line.

He cautiously lowered his head so he was staring at my hands “If that’s what you want, we could possibly make that happen,” and he slowly grinned.