Cats and Dogs and Other Pets

I held it off long enough, I’m going to speak of my cats and dogs throughout my remembered history. Bubbles, Angel, Felix, Grizzly, Daisy, Hunter, Diesel.

I held it off long enough, I’m going to speak of my cats and dogs throughout my remembered history.

The farthest back I can remember is a time when I had the following pets. The oldest cat was Bubbles, a calico (white, black, and orange splotches) longhair, who I, being a little guy, would chase Bubbles around. She was scared of me. Same deal with the next oldest cat: Angel, a shorthair with smoke-grey fur and a white belly and paws. She had such a soft coat. The youngest cat was Felix, a cat I can never forget. He was orange, large, fat, lazy, and incredibly loving. He wanted no more than a nice meal, nice sleep, and a loving friend or few. The few times he tried to run, it was more of a hilarious wobble. We also had a dog, seven breeds in him I was told, named Grizzly, after what he looks like; a slightly smaller grizzly bear with a lighter coat. He was an outside dog, but somehow he managed to stay a good boy. Ran me over once when I was really little resulting in my fear of him for too long, but a good boy, loving and happy. It’s sad that he lived and died an outside dog while the rest of my family and me lived our lives inside.

So after Bubbles died, we got another calico longhair, also female: Daisy. If you so much as walked past her she’d complain in her sheep-baa of a meow. She’s slightly better now, but still seems to hate everything. Mental. After Angel died, we waited. Then Felix died, so now we had one cat. Not good enough. We got our current youngest cat: Hunter, the black-and-white shorthair who’s probably our best cat yet. He loves to hunt, as his name implies, although that was more of a coincidence since we named him before he brought in anything. He loves to play. Sometimes he gets into a state of bouncing-off-the-walls; as in, he runs around the house at full throttle as if escaping an invisible mini-nuke. At some point after Grizzly died, we got a doberman pincher, a black dog with brown patches around specific spots: Diesel. His number-one favourite thing in the world is to beg for attention. He also has plenty of chew toys and can sniff one out from anywhere, even if we haven’t introduced him to it yet.

We also had some goldfish at some point. And we had chickens which we kept for eggs (and, when they stop laying eggs, meat). And we also had a couple of bunnies, one after the other, one of which would chase Felix around, nibbling his legs. Another kind of pet we had were guinea pigs. My room still had the three-story cage we kept the bunnies and guinea pigs in, hand-made by my dad. It’s awesome. We also had some frogs and I can almost guarantee that I’m missing some other pets.

I swear I don’t usually post about my pets.

The Summit in the Orc’s Dream

Here’s a story I constructed for my English class.

I woke up today, Friday, the first day of the first weekend since my Winter break ended. I’m not feeling like trying to find a topic and elaborating on it, so here’s a story I constructed for my English class.

The orc drudged his way up the bright mountain island as best he could, but found it not good enough. He sat on a freezing, orange, rock ledge, then laid down, then fell asleep.
The orc had a dream – a dream about the mountain and the secrets the clouded summit held; but when he awoke he remembered no details but those. Yet he felt that the only dream that he ever had led to the mountain for a purpose. He cannot sleep now, for his dream will only become more persuasive. The orc stood up and continued his
dreadful hike.
In the orc’s path was a massive roc, towering the orc several times over. Its feathers were of a golden hue, except for the tips of its tail and wing feathers, which were of a wonderful silver colour. Aware of the destruction this roc could wreak upon the orc, he made his way around this roc’s chick-full nest, careful to stay downwind
of the roc.
Thighs burning, lungs working, heart pumping, the orc used every drip of adrenalin he could find within himself to make it to the cloud that hides the tip of the mountain. Here it snowed from clouds higher. The air cooled his thighs and nearly froze his blood. Still, the dream condemned him to enter the cloud, and so the orc unsheathed
his construction hammer and beat on the cloud once, twice, thrice, and again, and again, a crack on the cloud forming and expanding. It took six swings of the hammer to make a hole. The orc peered inside and his dream came back to him, reminding him
that he had a great purpose, reassuring him that he did not have to follow the way of the orc.

Super Smash Bros. 4 and Project M

At some point, we played Super Smash Bros. Brawl on their Wii. At this point, I have never played Smash. Fast forward a few years. I get a 3DS for Christmas.

A handful of years ago, my dad’s 50th birthday was upon him. So, we visited some cousins to celebrate or something. I know nearly none of my many cousins, of which I am youngest second only to my sister, but we had fun. We played some sort of card game where you equipped equipment and fought monsters. It’s name was something like the word “monster.” At some point, we played Super Smash Bros. Brawl on their Wii.

At this point, I have never played Smash. I’m not even sure if I’ve heard of it. They handed me a controller (not sure which kind) and I mashed buttons because I had no idea what the controls were. I came away with an interest in the previously mentioned card game (which I haven’t been able to remember the name of since) and no interest in Smash.

Fast forward a few years. I get a 3DS for Christmas. This was sometime around the beginning of it’s life cycle. A beautiful bright blue shine, the colour was. This was probably the happiest Christmas of my life. I got a bunch of launch titles and gained more games for it later. I also had a good bunch of DS games beforehand. I was a bit confused on why it was missing a slot for my Gameboy cartridges because my DS had that. (I completely skipped the DSi.)

Later, I look through the Nintendo eShop’s demos to find the demo for Super Smash Bros. for 3DS (which is also known as Smash 4, in case you’re not in the know). I decide “hey, why not?” and get it. The introductory tutorial was exactly what I needed. I gradually learned things about the game. My friend, who I’ll call Ram, doesn’t have Wifi, so I get the demo for him and we both have plenty of fun. He gets Smash 4, I get Smash 4, and we play some more.

It takes me a while to get into a main. Then my main changes. And again and again, etc. Turns out, my main is whoever I feel like that week. I just can’t stick to one character in Smash 4. The thing about Smash 4 is that it feels, at least to me, more like a party game than anything.

So far, I’ve only played Super Smash Bros. for 3DS. But at my high school, the special education teacher, who I’ll call James, has this Wii. He only had Wii Sports, Wii Music, and Wii Play. Maybe also Mario Kart Wii at this point. So I ask him if he could get Super Smash Bros. Brawl for the Wii. He’s a great guy. He gets Brawl. So now, me and Ram start to play Brawl at lunch at school, which draws an audience and more players. It was epic, the atmosphere, although the game I didn’t find to be anything extraordinary in comparison. It still is epic, but things change at this point in the story. My Smash experience changes.

I learn about this modification for Brawl, which is called Project M. I look into it. I think the Project M development team stopped working on it by then, the latest version being 3.6. So I download Project M 3.6, throw it onto an SD card, throw that into the Wii, and start up Project M. This was a tough adjustment, particularly because I tried to spike offstage using Captain Falcon. Bad idea, that was, but getting into Project M was a magnificent idea. My Smash experience changes. I finally have a proper main. My main in Project M becomes, and still is, Squirtle. Everyone has fun until I start using Squirtle. Eventually we start having fun again because we often choose random characters and even when I am Squirtle, people are starting to find their mains, making it harder for me to win.

My current player landscape is this: at lunch in my school me and friends almost always play Project M. At first the four primary players, by which I mean players that almost always show up for the game, were me, Ram, and two other guys I’ll refer to as Griffin and Salamander. Now Griffin is off playing Magic the Gathering and I think we may have a new primary, who I’ll refer to as Spike.

Right now, in Project M I main Squirtle and secondary Mewtwo.

I’m planning, once this Winter Break is over, to mod the mod in the most insane way possible. Just for a single match or so. You know, to make them go “what in the good name of all hellspawn have you done?” Because I can.


So for my first blog post, I had no idea what to do, so I browsed my bookmarks and decided “hey, let’s try looking through my /r/WritingPrompts history.”

There’s this thing called Reddit, okay? It’s a pretty nice place. Anyway, here lays a subreddit called /r/WritingPrompts.

So for my first blog post, I had no idea what to do, so I browsed my bookmarks and decided “hey, let’s try looking through my /r/WritingPrompts history.” Not as easy as it sounds. Reddit is designed for quality content, not individual people.

My job was made easier when I used this Google search.


This is a few stories of mine I could find.

You are a vigilante who was inspired by the phrase “Liar, liar, pants on fire”.

What makes a liar? Some would say a liar is he who speaks not the truth. I do not believe it is as simple as that, for a liar, given enough persuasion, will tell the truth. Yet it often takes the realistic threatening of the liar’s well-being at large to bring the truth from those lips. Why would a liar go to such lengths to conceal the truth?

The answer seems to be in the pride of the liar. I could feel it in me as I lied to my colleagues, who, unbeknownst to me, knew the truth, and replied with the childish phrase “liar liar, pants on fire.” My regrets are profound. Half of my regrets are in the form of pride; the other half, morals. I have vowed to right the world of lies.

When you see me in the night sky, know that I am here to cleanse the city of liars. Know that Truther will make them speak of the reality, youth or not.

We have finally rid the world of mosquitos. Turns out, they actually did serve a purpose…

“There you have it, nerds. Mosquitoes have a purpose vital to our survival and the lives you take for granted.” A student puts his hand up, to which I point, granting him permission to speak. Most teachers have students who speak over them. Some teachers have students who yell over them. I have students that dare not make a peep, even while I’m gone.

The student opens his mouth to speak, when something falls into it. His eyes grow wide and he spits the thing out. Wiping his tongue with his hands as the rest of the class looks from their chairs, I laugh and ask “fly got your tongue?” He smiles and replies “mosquito.” Everyone laughs at this coincidence.


The final bell rings, I walk home, but I feel different. It feels as though the world is different. It started soon after his class ended. Then I notice that no one is speaking on these sidewalks. The only sounds are those of the passing vehicles. No one even honks.

Then I notice Francis passing, and find myself not wanting to speak. This is odd, because there is no reason I shouldn’t make small talk with a good friend. At the last moment the only thing I could come up with to say and did so was “you feel it?” I’m not sure why. Now that I acknowledged it, I did feel something. Something wild. Untamed. Unpredictable. Intimidatingly powerful.

It took Francis a moment to reply with “yes, I think everyone does. Notice the mosquitoes?” “What about the mosquitoes?” I ask, thinking back to the lesson I taught. It had to be a coincidence. Francis puts that theory away when she replies “they all died at once.”

My spines tingles and I become short of breath. I hope no students see me in my current state of weak-in-the-knees. “They did it,” I whisper. “They went ahead with it… even after I proved to them the dangerous reality of magic.” My vision slowly fades to black as I hear Francis saying something to me mixed with the distant sound of explosions, like those of bombs.

You were the ONE THOUSANDTH VISITOR of that website, and you just wanted to claim your free iPad. Despite all warnings, you didn’t expect things to escalate THAT quickly…

“Oh, awesome,” I say to myself quietly. According to this website, I’m the one thousandth visitor. As a reward, it is offering me a free iPad. I was planning on turning the computer off for the night, as the bright light felt burning on my eyes in this dark.

My computer was audibly chugging, struggling to run this website, which is very unusual for this very expensive machine. It was designed to run anything I’d ever want. More gigabytes of RAM than anyone last year could hope for.

I brushed it off in my excitement for my new iPad 11th gen. Since generation 10, Apple’s had a huge change in people and attitude. Generation 10 was the most powerful yet for mobile devices before the iPad 11th gen, which is far too expensive for my current financial situation.

Disregarding the obvious stupidity of my action I was about to perform, I clicked the claim button. I waited for a moment, then my computer went silent as it should’ve been from the beginning. The website didn’t do anything more. It didn’t ask me for my address, email, nothing. Silence. I wait for a minute. Of course this is a scam. My antivirus probably blocked something. Never trust anything on the deep web.

Then I hear a vehicle stop in my driveway. It’s not unusual for someone to drive by my house, but it is unusual for someone to stop by at this time of night. I put my computer to sleep and take a second to adjust my eyes to the sudden darkness. I get up, my sweaty ass feeling suddenly cold. I walk to my window and peek through the blinds into the world outside. My eyes are still adjusting, but I manage to see the outline of a dark van I don’t recognize.

As I wonder what’s going on, I’m knocked to the ground and my ears suddenly ring. What the fuck just happened, I ask myself silently. I get up, my ears still ringing and no other sound, and I feel someone violently push me back down to the ground, a solid object pushed against my head. Is that a gun? Am I being kidnapped?

I remain still like that for, what, five minutes? Twenty minutes? After a while, the person on top of me gets up, but keeps the gun pointed at my head. A while later, the ringing starts to stop, but I still can’t hear anything. I slowly bring my hands to my ears to check for blood, and sure as shit I feel what I can only assume is blood. Have I gone deaf? Did they blow my door down? I don’t understand why they would do that, but it sure as hell caught me by surprise. Thankfully, I don’t think they damaged me beyond my hearing.

I adjust myself to get more comfortable before I can stop myself and remember why I’m down here, but notice that the gun is fixed in place. I turn my head to look up and see a tripod holding the gun and no one in sight. My room is unrecognizably ruined and everything has been taken. I get up onto my feet and feel the pain of a thousand bad falls. The tripod has been bolted in place. These people were professionals and were only in it for my stuff. No doubt they raided my kitchen and everything else, judging by how not even my bed is left behind.

I walk painfully out of my bedroom and look down into the hole in the floor where my door used to be. Down in my kitchen is an 11th gen iPad.

You buy a deadly haunted house, little do the demons know you are an even older form of ancient evil.

I’m strolling through the noisy puddles, disgusted with the way the water feels in my shoes and the sound the rain makes. It’s a thing that I bought this horrendous house. It will get me out of this rain, and that’s all that matters: my comfort and gain.

As I enter this sad excuse for a structure, I spot the ragged front door lying on the shredded couch and I feel like puking. This is no home for someone as powerful as I.

I hear the sad sobs of a little girl echoing behind me. Any average pest would be chilled to the bone, I can tell, but this creature is messing with a pissed me. As I turn and see the pale figure of a pre-teen rush towards my face, screaming, I grab it by the throat and thunder my annoyance at it.

I’ve spent five minutes in the soaking rain, I enter my new, pathetic home, and this is how I’m treated.