A bit of chapter 5, probably will be redone.

Sitting up sleeply Hirono looked around him before he realized where he was. Getting up off the couch, he stretched began to walk around. Miyako did not appear to be up and he was not sure if Nodoka had stayed the night. Walking over to Miyako's door, he peaked inside. Nodoka was sleeping, her head resting on the table, glancing over her he saw Miyako also sleeping. Walking past Nodoka, Hirono stood over Miyako watching her breath in and out, her chest falling up and down.She looked so cute sleeping, how could she be such a demon awake he wondered, behind him he heard a yawn, turning around HE saw Nodoka's eyes flutter open, Trapped beside Miyako's bed Hirono stood their with a blank look as Nodoka opened her eyes completely and looked at him. "It's not what you think." Hirono said as Nodoka approached him, "please believe me, it isn't."
"Don't worry I believe you."
"I wasn't doing any-you do?"
"Yes you aren't the kind of guy who would molest a girl in her sleep, that is why Miyako let you stay."
"But how do you know, I just came back from a trip, I could have changed."
"Because... well I don't know, but if you had tried anything I know I wouldn't let you live."
A shiver ran down Hirono's spine, "Why do I get the feeling spending to much time around you could be bad for my health?"
"No idea."
Miyako began to stur in the bed behind them and Hirono and Nodoka came back to earth. Creeping out of the room, Hrino sat down in a chair in the kithcen while Nodoka began to make breakfest.After ten minutes of sitting in silence the door to Miyako's room creaked open. Hirono stood up and walked over to MIyako. "How are you feeling?"
"Better, I can make it to school today, thank you for taking care of me."
"Nah, Nodoka did most of the work."
"...I was just happy you were here..."
"What?"
"Um..." Then Nodoka called over from the kitchen

To clear things up

Sorry Howard about confusing your picture and Jaeger's. Personally I dont care if you create your own. I am trying to make the point this is not a blog where things are posted randomly, this is a blog for writing! If you want to quit go now, that way I can ahve some peace and quiet. If you want to still write can we get more serious. XxCynthxX if you want to blame me for how I am running this then do it somewhere else, you aren't a member but are continually harrasing me. Finally by one more I dare you, I was a bit annoyed how this story keeps reappearing, it bugs me! And fine no more strikes, from now on if you continue to do things like put up pictures or harrass others about the story you are banned.

Note: I will not banned someone for the contents of their story (within reason). Pictures are prohibited. Continual harrassement will get you banned. Posts not related to contents of blog like honors are not allowed, if someone repeatedly does this they will be banned.

Some new story. I don't know. I hope you like it, I'll post more unless Gollum bans me.

I think I'm too tricksy for him to catch me, though.

NORTHERN CANADA; 63:44:55; 68:31:11; 59:07:26

It was a pleasant, mild day in Iqaluit on July 26, 2159. A gentle breeze blew off the Atlantic Ocean. Business went about as usually in the bustling trade center, with the economy rocketing with the increase of refugees who would work long hours for little cash. Yet there were many who were discontent with the state of things, the rich making money off the majority of people who lost their homes to the rising oceans.

Simon Richards was one of these discontent people. Unlike them, though, he was a mathematician. In 2159, being a mathematician meant you were rich. Work on the mathematics of the human mind in the early 22^nd century revealed something most people already knew: humans are surprisingly simple and easy to predict. Soon enough, anyone who was skilled at math could predict the future of the economy and invest in what they knew would do well to greater accuracy than ever before. Through this, many people like Simon Richards who had lost everything soon found themselves with far more than they had before – and a strong anger against the ruling class of the world – an anger so fierce that even those with little knowledge in math could easily predict the outcome. Not much was said, though everyone knew what would happen; it would turn into a war.

Simon Richards, however, saw a different solution. His work on higher dimensions led him to the conclusion that going through the fifth dimension would be far easier than traveling in time, and might be able to stop the looming crisis. Few of the despairing population would believe this, he knew, but trying would do no harm. Even though the fifth dimension was thought to be infinitely small, Simon believed he could prove his point. He knew exactly who could help them; that is, if they could be persuaded. Persuasion or blackmail.

Isaac vs. Mason story, Isaac wrote this. Howard Windstorm Story

This is a second version made by Isaac.

--A story written for amusement purposes only (well, all stories are, but this one is exceptionally brainless). Comments would be appreciated, you people.

Mason Bliss sat on his spiky iron chair, eating cold pizza and drinking a cup of hot chocolate without chocolate. He was not Blissful, nor was he Masonful, for all he did was destroy. He was known as Mason the Perpetually Annoyed.

So deep in his veins ran the cold, biting edge of annoyance, such a burning rage of slight annoyance he had that he went completely bonkers, and resolved to end his slight annoyance once and for all.

“MwahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahLOLOLOLOLOlolololololololo!!1” He cackled super-evilly and internet-ally, and ordered some Lasagna, without cheese or pasta, or sauce.

*****

“Weeeeee!” Howard Lindstorm was bouncing up and down on Howard Lindstorm’s Pan-dimensional trampoline. It was a marvelous invention of Howard Lindstorm’s created when Howard Lindstorm threw a superparty for five weeks, and the joy of happy jumpers refused to leave. “My oh my, what a marvelous Pan-dimensional trampoline you have here!” he yelled to himself.

They were in the main Relaxation Vault of Lindstorm Industries, relaxing furiously after their crazy ordeal of relaxing yesterday.

“Howard! HOWARD!” yelled Spencer, one of Howard’s servants.

“Ahh!” Izak shouted, spilling his ultra-relaxation coffee all over the soft carpets of the Vault, making Spencer fall over himself.

Spencer jumped up in reverse motion in the fashion that is only possible when everyone around is in a state of EXTREME RELAXATION and doesn’t care about the laws of physics. He saluted smartly, and said, “Wasdfhjlfodfffffgggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg—”

Howard whacked Spencer’s head, muttering, “These low-budget servants, always sticking....” and with an almighty kick to the back, Spencer stood up.

“Okay, yeah.... There are some guys out there who know some guys who knows some guys some guys out there who know some guys who knows some guys some guys out there who know some guys who knows some guys—”

“@&%#%^*(()!#@$=+``=-30^%%^*(()!#@$=@” said Howard for about two minutes as he whacked the servant, who had fallen silent. The rather swimming state of relaxation was disappating quickly.

The servant stood again, with an unhelpful, “...know some guys who knows some guys some guys out there who know some guys who knows some guys—”

Howard sighed, and turned to the doorman, who had walked in to find out what all the fuss and bother was about. “What is it?” he asked him.

“Well, sir, it appears that there is a Inconvieny-O-Copter hovering out there that is colored beyond the legal limit of evil. It is also yelling at you,” said the doorman.

“Thanks,” said Howard, and led a bewildered Izak outside.

*****

The Inconvieny-O-Copter was the epitome of evil and inconvenience among fixed-wing VTOL aircraft, made out of the toenails of dead men, the souls of dead kittens, eyelashes from completely healthy kindergartners, spine jelly from dead squirrels, and cheap plastic that was sure to fall apart if dealt a good, strong whack with a rolled-up newspaper.

Mason the Perpetually Annoyed sat inside the cockpit on a chair that was just hard enough to be uncomfortable without actually hurting him, and colored just the shade of pink to sear the eye. He reached for the megaphone mouthpiece that was just big enough so that he couldn’t hold on to it with one hand, but just small enough to make you feel that you didn’t really need to use two hands to lift it.

He spoke into it, which was more difficult than you might of thought absolutely necessary: “Surrender the Uranium, Howard!”

The Inconvieny-O-Copter was talking to them. It said, “SrrrredUrthHworadhiaumi!”

“What?” said Howard and Izak at the same time, directing their voices to the craft.

Mason was annoyed that he had to say it again. “Surrender the Uranium, Howard!”

“SrrrredUrthHworadhiaumi!” the Inconvieny-O-Copter said again.

Howard and Izak shot each other a sidelong glance before yelling, again, “WHAT??”

Mason was becoming desperately annoyed. He leaned out the window, bumping his head on an inconveniently placed plastic beam, which shattered. “You idiots! Surrender your friggin’ Uranium! Jeez!”

On the ground, Howard said, “Ewwwww! Uranium? Is that the stuff that comes from between your toes? Gross-o mundo! Yuckerific! Bad-bad Ickrifying! Diz-gusting!”

“SURRENDER IT!” Mason yelled, and coincidentally he swallowed a fly, mutated from exhaust fumes, that held in its body the cure for half of the world’s genetic diseases. It was coincidental because Mason had none of those diseases, but had most of the other half.

“But I don’t have any of that stuff! I threw it out with the iPod forty-three last week!” yelled Howard from the ground. Coincidentally also, Howard swallowed the fly’s brother, which cured all of his allergies, his asthma, and made most everything taste better to him.

While they were both hacking on their flies, Izak hovered away on a poof of Extra-Medium Inconsequentiality, and no one took notice, because it was Inconsequential.

Howard hacked out a glob of mucus that contained a cold that he would have caught; Mason swallowed an itchy dandelion pod. “Go away!” yelled Howard, feeling excellent.

“Well then!” wheezed Mason, “I guess that I’ll just have to send you a present!” And Mason stuck his head back inside the Inconvieny-O-Copter, grabbing for a red button that both fired missiles and sliced bagels. Sticking his head out again, he shouted, "Of the EXPLOSIVE variety!" which didn't quite add as much as he expected, as Howard just stared at him as if he was slightly touched in the head. With a grunt, he ducked back inside and grabbed the button.

*****

Howard cringed, waiting for two ultra-death-o-tronic missiles to come flying out of the inconveniently evil craft, but only two halves of an ordinary wheat bagel with added nutrients and low cholesterol came, dropping in almost exactly the same manner that a raisin bagel with low amounts of sodium would, only slightly differently. Anyway, he caught and ate them.

Mason crossed his eyes in annoyance, and had trouble uncrossing them for a few moments. It would take a few more seconds for the missiles to be ready to fire, as they took the same amount of power as the toaster.

Howard munched the strangely delicious ordinary wheat bagel with added nutrients and low cholesterol in fear, wondering what would happen.

Mason started thinking to himself, a habit he did when there was no one else to think to. Soon... he thought, very soon, you will be mine. Ha! If only someone were here to hear what I’m thinking, and I had a way of telling them, they would know a very important plot element that cannot be disseminated any other conventional way! Ha! My secret plan... wait, Mason, pause for dramatic effect... is to--

*DING*!!!

And Mason’s thoughts were scattered by the button telling Mason that, on no certain terms, that it may or may not now quite be able to either make a mean wheat bagel, or bring unaccountable destruction--All at the push of a button!

Then, out of nowhere, Izak came, now riding on a dark cloud of Mega-Consequentiality and wielding an automatic tennis ball pitching machine that some automatic tennis ball pitching machine enthusiast had installed in the bathroom, and whose occupants were glad to give to Izak.

As Mason pressed the button again with an annoyed shout of, “Krjykiknaztrajitdak!” Izak shot four green tennis balls at the two Fisher-Price Brand ultra death-o-tronic missiles, whose cheap plastic, not meant to withstand any whack from a self-respecting rolled-up newspaper wielder, shattered on impact with the tennis balls, and Howard looked up just in time to step out of the way of a falling block of rubber.

Mason had had enough of this bother, and with an annoyed sigh, he turned the Inconvieny-O-Copter around and flew away, powering his engines by liquid irritation mixed with gas that was more expensive than it should have been.

“Wow Izak! That was cool!” said Howard, suit teeming with delicious ordinary wheat with added nutrients and low cholesterol bagel crumbs.

“It’s not over yet,” said Izak, “But for the moment, can I have an interview?”

“Fine,” said Howard.

“Okay, Mr. Lindstorm, one short question, right off, can you tell the readers your favorite movie?”

“That’s easy,” said Howard. “It’s--”

And at that moment a cheap plastic panel piece flew out of the sky and hit Howard on the head. It was colored beyond the legal limit of evil. “This is not mellow!” Howard yelled, and passed out.

*****

Mason flew as far as his camp in the Muir crater before the Inconvieny-O-Copter whined, “I quit,” and fell apart, leaving Mason in midair in his uncomfortable seat and clutching at air, before he fell into the heart of the army camp amidst the snow and ice.

*****

Howard regained consciousness to a gentle rocking motion. He looked about him, and discovered that he was strapped into the pilot's seat of a ROFLcopter set to autopilot, a very odd version of the helicopter that was imbued with knowladge of most all inside-jokes of the internet. Unfortunately, most of it's memory was obsolete. "Llolololollolololololololol11!!1!!" it chuckled.

Howard, ignoring the weird laughter, looked out the window and saw Izak in a similar craft, fifty yards starboard.

The two ROFLcopters flew into a blizzard.

“ROFL One, can you see anything?” Izak asked his copter.

“No way jose!” said the ROFLcopter. Then it said, “Would you like to hear a knock-knock joke?” Izak declined. He landed the copter by the side of the road, and heard Howard’s touch down behind.

Howard was giggling like a maniac who had dropped murdering and taken up giggling instead. He stopped and asked, “Hey, Izak, did you hear the one about the guy who knocks on your door and has a funny name like ‘Immagettingcold’ or ‘Pleaseletmeiniambleeding’?”

Izak rolled his eyes. He had a habit of knocking around those who spouted knock-knock jokes, but he couldn't bear to womp on the ROFLcopter. It was just too cheerful.

*****

“Gross! What is that?” The soldier poked the thing on the ground with a stick. “It looks like a hairball flushed down the toilet mixed with an old sock!”

A recruit said, “I think it’s a pancake, sirs.”

Another soldier piped up, “No, it looks more like a roadkilled raccoon or bear or jellyfish... I think one of our trucks hit a baby sasquatch coming in.”

“I think it’s a pancake.”

Another one said, “And that smell... ugh! It smells like a turd wrapped in seaweed sprayed with a skunk and dipped in--”

“I think it’s a pancake.”

“--and put in a bucket of sweat from hairy guys and thrown off a cliff!”

“I think it’s a pancake.”

“HEY! That’s enough! Stop poking me!” And Mason the Perpetually Annoyed got up from the ground and brushed himself off.

*****

“We need to get out of this blizzard!” Izak yelled.

“What?!” yelled Howard.

“I said, we need to get out of this blizzard!”

“What?!”

“We need to get out of this blizzard!”

“I can’t hear you! We’ll need to get out of this blizzard!”

Izak yelled, "This joke isn't funny anymore!"

*****

In the central command tent in his army's camp, Mason sat at an uncomfortable bench that happened to be the only one to be made of iron and covered in thumbtacks for the sake of artistic license. He was eating a cold soup of despair and potatoes that refused to be eaten, and was putting up a good fight. Outside the tent, a blizzard was coming.

Before, he had taken four showers, which had been too hot, too cold, too just right, and too spontaneously combustible, in that order. When he had asked to see the water supply for the showers, there didn’t appear to be any, which only added to his worries.

Mason took out his Portable Cell Phone of Pure Evil, made by Satansung and serviced by BS&S, and speed-dialed his accomplice in badness, Ryan Anderson. “Ryan Anderson!” Mason barked into the phone.

“Heeeeeeeeey, duuuuuuuude. What's going on, man?” said Ryan. Ryan was a member of TOILET, The Officious, Informal, Lax, Eased, and Tanned, and as such was not likely to adhere to his status of General of the Whole Entire Army when talking to Mason. “Howya doing?” he said.

“Uncomfortably,” replied Mason, and continued, “Ryan, I need you to get to Muir right away, as in now if not sooner.”

“Righty-ho, i’ll be there, man. Stay beautiful” Ryan was so into the essence of TOILET that he didn’t even bother to capitalize his I’s when talking to people. It could be said that he had fallen right into the TOILET bowl, which is a TOILET member’s equivalent of Nirvana.

Five minutes later, during which Mason’s soup, which, though a rediculous and unrestatable series of events, had escaped out the window, Ryan arrived in his official military Ferrari, parking in such a fashion as to block four cars and an ambulance in their parking spots, as well as the army’s tank yard, jeep yard, self-propelled artillery yard, and a pony with a rocket launcher on its back. It was a testament as to how relaxed he was that no one seemed to care.

“Well, hello Mason! i think you have a job for me?”

*****

Izak and Howard landed their ROFLcopters and began walking the road ahead.

The road started to go uphill, and as Izak and Howard walked it, they could barley make out the outline of an inn ahead, as well as the dark shape of a mountain in the distance.

The inn was called “Mad Mike’s Krazy Stay-in Inn and Man Massage!” so they didn’t go inside, but outside there was an electric car parked that belonged to Howard Lindstorm.

He got in and drove uphill without Izak, so Izak jumped into the back of another car that was going uphill. “Hi,” said Izak to the driver.

“Will you get out of my car?” the driver asked Izak.

“No,” said Izak.

“Well then, that’s settled now. Would you mind terribly if I put some light jazz on?” asked the driver.

“Yes,” said Izak. “Please don’t put on jazz of any kind. Oh, and follow that car,” he added, pointing to Howard’s car.

“Okie dokie,” said the driver. “Would you like anything from Burgerdonalds here?” he said as they drove past Burgerdonalds.

“No. I prefer McKing. Also, keep your eyes on the road.”

“Would you mind if I asked you why we are following that car?”

“Yes,” said Izak.

“Why are we following that car?” the driver asked anyway.

“Because it contains Howard Lindstorm, the richest and strangest guy in the world, and because I need to interview him, and because he is very difficult to interview without something inexplicably weird happening.” To prove it, Izak yelled, “HOWARD? WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE COLOR??”

“BLUE!!!” said Howard, and a large leathery bird flew down and picked Howard out of his car and flew him up into the blizzard. Five seconds later he came tumbling down out of the sky and landed in his car as if nothing at all had happened.

“Wow!” said the driver. “You two are the weirdest guys I have ever met!”

“Thank you,” said Izak. “Now, keep driving.”

“Poooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooop!” said the coffee machine, and a squelchy black cupful of Mason’s private black ultra-grim coffee poured itself into Mason’s cup. Mason took a sipful and shuddered dramatically. It was both too hot and too cold (a state of liquid that defied the bounds of plausibility, known as “implausiquid”, but it was well known that Mason was always surrounded by a field of implausibility, much like the field of uber-fun that Howard generated, only a lot less fun.) The coffee was also ludicrously bitter.

Mason checked the machine’s coffee beans and was worried to find that none had been put in, and then he was annoyed that things like that kept happening to him. He put some in and made another cup, but it turned out almost exactly the same, save that it tasted a bit worse.

Ryan pressed the coffee button and a merrily steaming flow of nut-brown coffee came out. Ryan sipped it and beamed.

“So, this is what i think the plan is,” said Ryan. “i, the Ryan, have to go get this guy, Pan-lick”

“Pat-trick,” Mason whispered exasperatedly.

“Patch-kick, whatever, and i bring him into the crater, where Howard and Izak will be, magically.”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO...” hissed Mason, making such a ridiculous face that you might have thought he had won the lottery or just licked an electric fence. “Not magically, magnetically. There will be a gigantic refrigerator magnet in the crater. I just need you to get them there, and get Patrick there, too.”

“Where’s Pic-nic now?”

Mason did twelve eye-rolls before he looked at Ryan. “P-AAAAA-tri-K!” he oozed.

“Whatervers,” said, Ryan. He then got up, smirking his annoying Ryan-smirk and gloated away.

Izak caught up to Howard at a stop light.

“HEY, HOWARD, why’d you ditch me?”

“Oh,” said Howard, and without offering an explanation, he opened the top of his car and invited Izak to jump in from ten feet away. Izak jumped, landing right in the passenger seat.

The light was red, but seeing as no one was coming, the nice driver who had helped Izak drove ahead and was instantly struck by a camoflauge-patterened Ferrari which had come roaring across the perpendicular road at speeds that hinted that the driver didn’t care much for his life or for the lives of others.

“Wow, that guy could’ve hit us!” said Howard, bouncing excitedly. “I hope we won’t meet him again.” The Ferrari and the car it had hit were already out of sight.

“Hmm...that’s funny,” said Izak. “That way leads to my friend Patrick’s house. He plays every single instrument known to man and several known to robots only. He’s also a super buff gymnast. I wonder why that oddly thoughtless Ferrari driver is going that way.”

“Hmm...that IS odd!” said Howard. “Let’s go meet this super buff musical Patrick guy, he sounds fun.”

“Yes, Patrick the super buff gymnast musician is very fun. And super buff.” Izak thought for a moment. “But will we be able to catch up to him before that Ferrarist gets there?”
“Probably not in this electric car,” Howard said, “but we’ll think of something.”

*****

Mason was using his portable cell phone of pure evil again. This time, he was texting Roger the Brutal, as texting was the only way Roger the Brutal could be contacted.

Hey Roger. How about u come to camp muir for sum totally brutal fun? Luv, Mason.

He waited two seconds before he got his reply:

Id luv to mason. C u there.

Mason rubbed his hands together, an action which caused them to grow colder for no explainable reason. Pieces of his plan were coming together.

*****

Howard and Izak followed the road to Patrick, the super buff gymnast, until the car ran out of electric. They couldn’t see anything ahead of them but a diner, called Yum Yum Stare-n-Eets-a-Fuds, and because neither of them had eaten anything but a bagel since the morning, they pulled in to the parking lot.

Inside, everything was plated in chrome, so much so that Izak put on his sunglasses and Howard put on his Emergency Funglasses (an even cooler version of sunglasses) so they could see better in the reflective glare.

Leading the way for a booth, Howard stopped abruptly, making Izak run into him. “What?” asked Izak,. “What is it?”

“Nnnnnayh,” said a voice from the booth they had stopped at.

“I recognize that voice and rather silly exclamation!:” said Izak. “Annie, is that you?”

“Yes,” said Howard, “it’s Annie Stavok! Didn’t you two used to date?”

“Nnnnnnayh!” said Annie at the same time that Izak said, “Noooo!”

“Jeez, that’s what EVERYONE thinks!” said Izak.

“And it’s STILL annoying,” said Annie.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Howard. “I just thought you were.”
“Well, we weren’t.”

Izak slid into the booth with Howard behind him. “So, Annie, what’s on the menu here?”

“It’s ridiculously silly,” said Annie. “There’s Creamed Eels, Crushed Apples, Lasagna of Estacy, Sweet Malnutrition breakfast cereal, Skewp’d Pewp, Andy Warhol Art Inspiration Soup, Lebron James Slam Dunk Orange-Colored Juice, Kreamy Shakes, Buckethead Shredded Wheat, and Italian Sausage.”

“That sounds very silly.” Izak ordered a bowl of Sweet Malnutrition anyway, and Howard had the Andy Warhol Soup. When they were waiting for the silly-named food, they all got caught up on the goings and doings of each other.

“So, Annie, what do you do for a living?” Izak asked.

“I am a professional bodyguard” said Annie, much to Izak’s surprise and Howard’s delight.

“Wow, a bodyguard, really?” said Howard. “Do you think you can guard our bodies?”

“That depends,” said Annie. “What do your bodies need guarding from, actually?”

“Well,” Izak said, who also thought having a bodyguard would be a good idea, “mostly, our bodies need gaurding against a long series of random events that are usually fun, probably dangerous, and always unexpected, and there’s also this annoyed little fellow named Mason who I think has a grudge against us. We need help against him and his odd minions too.”

“Hmm...” said Annie. “I’ve never actually guarded anyone as strange as you two before.”
“Aren’t you up to the challenge?” asked Izak.

“Yes, I think I am. And it would be a nice break to be with you two instead of the usual boring rich people I protect.”
“Yay!” said Howard and Izak at the same time.

“Wait,” said Izak, “how would we pay you?”
“Pay me based on how well I protect you,” said Annie.

“Oh, we can do that.”
At that moment, their food arrived, carried by a waitress in a silly suit, and Howard and Izak dug in voraciously. Annie took dainty bites.

*****

Kyle the Brutal sent off his return text to Mason, hopped in his armored Dodge Ram, and backed out of his garage without opening the door. “GRRRRRRRRRRRR,” he shouted as he dove through the straggling cars on the road in the snowstorm, driving through traffic and over traffic and under traffic, leaving mangled car bodies in his wake. His size 24 boots, each with a four-inch metal toe, both stomped on the gas pedal as he ground his teeth at the pieces of metal and bone that went flying past.

*****

Ryan managed to rid his Ferrari of the car of the nice driver that he had hit. He drove up to the Patrick house, where he lived with his brother Hej Harry the Fourth and his brother Tony, who were both buff, but not as buff as Patrick. Sauntering up to the front door, Ryan pressed the doorbell rapidly in a most irritating fashion, until Patrick, the super buff musican gymnast, came up to answer the irritating dings.

“Who is that ringing the doorbell in such an annoying manner?” he asked, wearing nothing but gym shorts and a neck towel. “I must warn you sir, I do gymnastics and am super buff. You don’t want to mess with me.”

At that moment, Ryan whacked him in the face with a piece of bagette bread that had been left out so long it was as hard as rebar. Dispite all his super buffness and musical abilities, Patrick was out for the count.

*****

Howard, Izak, and Annie the bodyguard finished their silly food and went outside.

“We need to get to Patrick’s house,” said Howard. “He’s--”

“He’s the super buff gymnast and musician?” Annie asked.

“Yes. We need to find him because there’s an inappropriately colored Ferrari speeding his way without a care for anyone’s safety, and also because he’s rumored to be very fun, as well as super buff.”

“We can’t catch up to a Ferrari in the car you came in,” Annie said. “Besides, it’s out of electric. We can take my Totally Awesome Bouncy Car.”

“Far out!” said Howard.

*****

The Totally Awesome Bouncy Car was a regular car that Annie the bodygaurd had made super bouncy by fueling with Coca-Cola brand Coca-Cola. It burped when she changed gears, and occasionally made a soft, “Nnnnnnayh,” sound.

It bounced through the snowstorm at hyper speed.

“So, Annie, when did you stop dating Izak and start guarding people and their bodies?” Howard asked, forgetting an important fact that would've ensured his survival.

“Nnnnnnnayh!” said the car, Annie, and Izak at the same time.

“We were never dating!” Annie and Izak hissed.

“Oh, sorry.”
“You should be,” said Annie. “If you say that we were dating one more time, I will get you in my iron lock.”

“You have an iron lock?” asked Howard.

“Yes, she does. She’s super strong. I think she’s a robot or something,” Izak said.

“How do you know? Did you find out when you two were dating?”

And with that, Annie turned the controls over to Izak and proceeded to crush Howard with her iron lock until his cheeks turned blue. When she was quite sure that he had had enough, she released him.

“Hey,” said Howard, “that was not mellow!”

“Serves you right,” said Annie.

Howard was quiet for several moments after that.

END SECTION--YOU WIN!

New Rule

Because of Howards pictures and other things that have recently been annoying me I am going to establish a 3 strikes rule. If you do three things to annoy me then you are going to be either removed from this blog or Have anything you post removed. Thank you for your understanding.

End of chapter 4

“Knock, Knock”
“Co-come in…”
Hirono walked into Miyako’s room, one side was dominated with basketball trophies, another with a chest of drawers, and on the wall opposite her bed were a bunch of stuffed animals. The whole room was painted pink.
“How are you feeling?”
“Better, thank you for coming over.”
No problem after you have taken care of me so many times. Here is the medicine let me get you a glass of water.” Setting the medicine down on Miyako’s bed stand Hirono went to the kitchen to pour a glass of water. As he was headed back to Miyako’s room his vision blurred and he slumped against the wall. Pausing to regain his senses he moved on to Miyako’s room. HE gave the water to MIyako, and she tried to feebly lift it to her mouth but her arm began to shiver and colappsed.
“Her let me do that for you” Hirono whispered. HE pressed the medicine into her mouth and lifted her up and placed the water to her lips. Just as Miyako was about to drink Hirono felt another wave of dizziness and collapsed. When he opened his eyes his face was inches away from Miyako. Miyako also opened her eyes and looked at him. Hirono felt blood rush to his face and saw Miyako, if possible, tuirn become redder, even though her face was already red from the fever.
“S-sorry.”
“N-no problem.”
“Here I will get up now, unnh.”“Don’t push your self Hirono.”
“No this is my fault, I haven’t eaten lately.”
Hirono took a second to gaze at Miyako, suddenly his head began to lower. Miyako’s eyes began to close and she lifted her head towards him. Closer, closer Hirono could feel her breath. Hirono closed his eyes, closer, closer.
“Knock, knock, knock. MIyako are you there? It’s Nodoka.” HIrono sprain up from Miyako’s bed. Miyako waited a second and then opened her eyes. “I’m here Nodoka, come in.” The door creaked open and Nodoka peaked around the corner. “I came to keep you company but it appears someone is already keeping you well occupied.” She giggled. “Oh dear you spilled some water on your self, here let me help you change, why don’t you leave for a sec Hirono.” Stumbling to the door Hirono slipped out. Sitting with his back to it Hirono thought about how soft Miyako had been when he was touching her, how beautiful she had looked. Shaking his head Hirono reminded himself of how Miyako had always been like his mother he couldn’t go and fall in love with her, she was, she was… Sighing to himself Hirono got up and wandered to the Kitchen. He poured some water into the Instant Noodle and set it in the microwave. He heard a door open behind him and saw Nodoka emerge. “Miyako wants me to tell you that it wasn’t your fault she got wet, she also was saying it was too late for you to go home, and since you are feeling bad to spend the night”
“WHAT!? You’re joking!”
“Nope, just don’t try anything funny, or else…” A dark gleam came into Nodoka’s eyes and Hirono felt a shiver go down his back.
“O-o-okay I will sleep in the living room.
“Good, and Miyako also wanted me to tell you good night.”
Nodoka turned around and went back into Miyako’s room. “Good night, Miyako.

Half of chapter 4

I will do the rest in half a hour.

When Hirono woke up the next morning, he looked at the clock and saw it read 9:30. “Shit! Where is Miyako!?” Hurrying to get up, Hriono rushed out the door with out a pause and headed and started running to school. As he was jogging along Hirono decided that he should just skip school and go strait to the art gallery. Turning around abruptly he started to run again, in the opposite direction. Unlocking the door, Hirono went over to the far side of his living room and picked up some canvases propped up against the wall. Looking at the painting on the easel, he decided to leave it and walked over to the door. Pausing for a second he grabbed a pen and a piece of paper and scrawled a quick note, and slipped it under the door. Slipping the pen back in his pocket Hirono shut the door and headed back outside.

“Well these are very good paintings for someone so young, I will take them in our gallery and pay you your amount after someone buys them.”
“Thank you very much sir.”
Hirono bowed down and left the art gallery, checking his watch he decided to meet MIyako at school and try to apologize before she took her revenge on him with a kick to the back of his head. When he reached the school Miyako was not waiting in the court yard, or anywhere else. Worried Hirono picked his cell out of his pocket and called her cell.
“Ring, ring, ring, I am sorry but Miyako Miyamura is not able to reach the phone right now please leave a message after the beep.” Hirono hung up the phone, now really getting worried wild scenarios running through his head. Maybe some man had kiddinapped her and was planning on raping her, maybe she was hit by a car, maybe-. Hirono’s mind stopped as his phone began to ring. Snaching it up he quickly flipped it open.
“Miyako!?”
“Pipe down you idiot!”
“Miyako, where are you!?”
“I said be quiet! You are such an idiot, I am sick in bed.”
“Why are you sick?”
“Because I gave you my umbr… uh I fell in a puddle.”
“Shouldn’t you be more careful, you are on the school’s basketball team.”
Shut up, anyway can you bring me some medicine, and maybe some hugs and kisses to make you feel better?” Hirono said puckering up his lips and making a kissing sound. On the other end Miyako blushed. “I hate you, you idiot!”, said Miyako, annoyed. She slammed down her phone and left Hirono listening to a dead line. “Fine, I guess I had better bring her some medicine. Grumble.” Looking down Hirono patted his stomach, “Crap I am short on money to, I guess I will have to get some Instant Noodle as well.”, and again Hirono started walking towards town.

Chapter 3

I made this one shorter because it is the first kind of mystical moment, so th readers think back to it.

When Hirono got home the first thing he noticed was the message light on cell phone was blinking. “ Hello, Mr. Sawega this is Mr. Atobe speaking, you called saying you wanted to sell some paintings to the gallery, I would like to tale a look at these paintings first, please come over to my gallery at 10 o’clock tomorrow thank you.” Walking over to something covered in a sheet, Hirono pulled it off to reveal an easel. Digging through a bag he pulled out some brushes and paints. The first color graced the canvas leaving a trail of grey. More colors followed as the brushed danced its way around. A graceful feather, the strokes holding it for eternity. The scene turned into the rook top of the school, covered in snow, I Christmas Tree sat in the center. The pool was frozen over and showed a bright moon that lit the ground with the help of candles glowing coldly; the city lay below lit up and bright the bells of the church swaying back and forth glittering. An image that was like a deep pool and sucked you into it, threatening never to release you. An image of another universe created by another god.

By the time Hirono put his brush down it was late and Hirono decided to go strait to bed.

Chapter 2 of Eternal Feather

Chapter 2

The breeze blew softly as Hirono lay on the roof of the school; the town was stretched out in front of him. Even as a child when he had come up here to be alone the door had always been unlocked. “Miyako will get mad at me for skipping class” he muttered into the wind. Ever since he had been little Miyako had always been trying to take care of him, “I wonder why? She never really had a reason.” Shutting his eyes Hirono laid down letting the sun warm his body comfortable on the hard roof.

“Ding, ding, ding, ding”, it was not the sound of the bell that awoke Hirono, but the rain beginning to fall from the clouds. “Crap I missed all my classes, Miyako will be pissed.” Stretching his arms Hirono got to his feet and headed down to the courtyard where he was supposed to meet Miyako after school. When he reached the tree in the center of the court yard the rain had started to pour, Miyako was sitting down on the bench surrounding the tree waiting, annoyed. Getting up Miyako strowed over to Hirono as stabbed him in his chest with her finger.
“Where were you today?”
“Uh… In class?”
“Not from what I heard from Nodoka, It was your first day of school Hirono and you skipped! If you make this like Junior High you will fail all your classes again and get held back this time!”
“I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, cut me some slack this time Miyako, please?”
“Fine, but you have to come to my basketball practice tomorrow as punishment. Where is your umbrella?”
“I…uh left it at home”
“Geez to I have to hold your hand through High School as well, if you continue like this you won’t even get a job anywhere, here take mine I have an extra.”
“Ah, thank you, are you coming with me?”
“No I have some shopping to do on the way home, I will see you later bye.”
Popping up the umbrella Hirono strowed out into the rain and disappeared amongst it, peering out from under the tree Miyako looked to the sky, the rain continued to pour down drenching everything. Pulling her book bag over her head Miyako began running under the rain towards home with rain already dampening the binder.

sometimes summer romances are just for summer

i can feel you,
your warmth edging into my trying to
let you go,
i can feel myself starting to relax,
and letting myself trust you feels so wrong,
like when i promised myself to
never let me love you again,
like when i told myself i would never
open the door and let you in,
like when i cried myself to sleep knowing -
thinking that we were done for good,
i never counted on you
to keep
on
loving
me

Summer

when you can finally wake up at
eleven
and wear your pajamas for
the whole day eating
ice cream
out of the box
as if
your life depended
on it
i think you must
love
summer

kinky free verse. am trying to decide between writing a sad story, something like nicholas sparks would write, or keep writing the one i posted a HUGE WHILE back.

I have been bad

No time to write, so sad. Stupid parents and their trips.

I see your shadow side by side with mine,
And as they merge I feel your soft touch on me,
I want to be honest with you,
But I fear we will end us,
Our friendship we have,
Someday I will tell you,
When my body does not quake,
The fear of losing you,
Till then my love will be unchanging,
I will wait till I am brave,
I will wait forever.

The changing days bring rain and snow,
The world turns into a cold heaven,
But all I see is death,
The cold,
Spiriting her away,
The gentle pure snow,
She harbors a cruel secret.

I sail in my dreams and find a new world,
A world with only those with wings of white may reach,
Their pure dreams lifting them into realms of heaven,
Here my love will be realized,
I wont look to my sorrow in my shell back on the ground,
I will only let my body soar,
Here I will meet her and walk side by side,
This is my own star of hope,
Where it glimmers in the depths,
Of pain,
Of sadness,
Of anger,
I will not give up my love for it will come,
I will keep our promise,
To meet in a place of shining light.

I sent the KIng COunty LIbrary system a request for a poetry or short story contest, cross your fingers!

Hello, everyone!

I'm new to Writers' World, and blogging in general, but I do have several stories saved on my computer that I could post. I will also be open to any requests for story genres that you, the public, would want me to write.

Anyone who'd be willing to show me around would win a lot of favor with me, too.

To reiterate, I am new, so if there's anything I'm doing that's embarrassingly newbish, tell me quick.