Mom’s Birthday

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It’s a pity you’re not feeling good, but I love ya!

PS: Birthday doughnuts are the way to go…but I should have stuck a candle the doughnut so you could make a wish!

Foreshadowing, and why you know the story

Dedicated fans will look on all my blogs, as opposed to only a few (You know who you are…forgetting about scifisketches.wordpress.com). You should too, If you are wondering either A) What the other “guardians” look like, B) What the other elements are, or C) If I’m as good at building Lego as I am at writing (Answer: Yes)

Point is, check ALL the blogs, and you will know the story more than you know the story

I’m sorry, but this is amazing

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ca4miMMaCE&feature=player_embedded

The video above explains how to imagine the 10TH DIMENSION!!!! It’s very clear, and very awesome, if you pay attention. Remember: Point, Branch, Fold, Point, Branch, Fold, Point, Branch, Fold, Point?. I love it!

Act 1

The first guardian has arrived.

%            %            %            %            %            %            %            %            %            %            %            %            %           

“For real?” I said, incredulous. The hangar didn’t seem special enough to hold anything very important. It didn’t even look like it held anything for at least thirty years.

Jackson showed me an instrument on a dashboard, which seemed like a dome filled with water. A glowing, bright blue line was pointed in the direction of the run-down hangar.

“The compass has never been wrong”, Jackson said

I shrugged, and went to wake Marci up.

In the back of the bus, Marci was sleeping fitfully. Her dreams had been very bad. She didn’t remember the dreams, but certain objects stuck out above others. A map, An empty box, mud, A moustache, and a desk. She was just about to wake when I touched her shoulder, and explained the situation. Her eyes got wide when I told her about the monster

“Do you have to fight it?” She asked, with a pleading look, “You could die!”

“I can’t let the old man go alone, or he will die” I reasoned.

She clung on to me, and became weepy. I let her cry it out, and when she stopped, she said, “I’m going too” in a defiant voice.

“Ho no!” I said, startled, “What if you die! I couldn’t live with myself if I lived and you died.”

“I’m coming anyway!” Marci huffed, and started to walk toward the front of the bus, and before I could stop her, asked Jackson, “May I go?”

Jackson looked at her and smiled, and said, “My dear, you are meant to go”

Rain pounded around us, and struck our shoulders with more force than necessary.

Marci, Jackson, and I walked over to the smaller door next to the larger door used to bring planes in and out, and were surprised to find it open. This fact seemed to trouble Jackson, who mumbled under his breath about something. We then entered the door.

Standing in the hangar itself, nothing seemed remotely of value. A layer of dust covered everything, which made us cough. Several small propellers were laid against a back wall. The rusty remnants of a fuselage were in a corner. Various instruments of flight were in a small, cluttered desk, with an old desk lamp whose bulb burned out long ago.

But none of these seemed a proper powerful object. Nothing glowed with mystical light, nothing was on a pedestal in the center of the room, and nothing was covered in gold. Yet, Jackson had eyes for only one thing.

Previously unnoticed was a door, which led off to some unknown place, perhaps a closet or the backyard. There was nothing special about it. The glass was crisscrossed with wires, and was faded red.

Jackson forgot that there was supposed to be a monster around here, and we didn’t stop him in time. He grabbed the single most useless object, one that I failed to even pay attention too, and ripped off the doorknob with a groan of metal. He pocketed the doorknob.

Then, with the rusty screech of metal on metal, something moved.

^             ^             ^             ^             ^             ^             ^             ^             ^             ^             ^             ^             ^            

All along the wall, the propellers began to vibrate rapidly. The instruments on the table quavered, the fuselage shook. The ground beneath our feet quaked. Then, the monster appeared.

Clutter, or what was ten minutes ago, was sent scattering across the room, gravitating to a central point. The fuselage formed the torso of the great beast, and began to fold on itself to create a curved shape. Propellers whirled through the air around us, and we ducked as they came close to cutting our heads off, and they strung themselves into a thick trunk, and became the tail of the creature. Panels for repairing broken fuselage wrapped around themselves to form a great, triangular head, with jagged metal teeth snarling at us. The desk lamp created the illusion of a single, glowing eye, which pierced us with anger. The metal monstrosity was a great serpent, but much larger, and covered with scales no weapon could penetrate.

Marci screamed, and tried to run to the door. The snake moved swiftly, and opened its metal jaws to engulf the screaming girl. I managed to grab her hand and yank her out of the beast’s way. The snake smashed into the wall, and created a great dent the size of a small car. It turned its great head, with a look of loathing, but without a single wound. It hissed, which sounded like metal grating on itself.

“You have to get back to the bus!” Jackson shouted.

“We all do!” I shouted back, clutching a sobbing Marci, and avoiding another strike of the snake.

“Never mind about me!” shouted the driver, and began to run away from the door.

The snake chased its prey, and opened its jaws to receive the meal, and the doorknob. Jackson turned around, and shouted again, “Run!”

“No!” Shouted I, and looked around frantically for something to use at a weapon, but everything was used in the creation of the monster. Desperately, I looked in my pockets, but could only find a bookmark, and my cell phone. I threw the latter at the serpent, but the phone was only absorbed by the monster, and used to create more armor. I cursed, and began to rip out my hair in frustration, but was brought out of my reverie when something very large crashed through the rolling door

The bus didn’t stop, but continued to drive toward us at high speed. I grabbed Marci in a brace position, and ducked, but we passed through the bus like smoke, or rather the bus passed through us like smoke. When we looked around, we were inside the bus.

Jackson was being pursued by the metal creature still, and the bus drove all the faster to save the driver in peril.

The bus crushed the metal snake in its haste to get to the driver. The bus stopped as it drew level with Jackson, and the latter opened the door and got behind the wheel.

“In the name of all things holy, why didn’t you go to the bus when you had your chance?” Jackson tiredly snapped, “It would have saved a lot of energy”.

“I couldn’t let you die!” I said, proudly. Marci was next to me, still trembling, head buried in my shoulder

“I probably would have died if you didn’t get on the bus!” Jackson snapped, “I knew I could get back to the bus, but I had to use the Versimile’s energy to drive the bus!” He pointed angrily at the wheel, which continued to drive itself.

“Um…” I began to ask.

“My inner soul, dammit!” Jackson answered, and pushed the gas down with enough force to tear through the metal shell of the hangar, which he did.

The impact was jarring, but the bus was still travelling. A second burst of metal on metal followed us, and we knew the snake was back, and had somehow reformed itself.

Of all the places they could’ve landed, they had to land in a junkyard.

The snake, when it landed in the metal wasteland, had the equivalent of a mechanical love affair. An irresistible attraction between televisions, cars, radios, scrap metal, and all manner of mechanisms drew everything to the snake, which began to get larger, and evolve legs and stronger armor.

Jackson cursed, and began to drive faster. He flicked a switch, and turned to us.

“Inside of all monsters, there is a weak point, right?” Jackson reasoned.

“I don’t know if that holds true for real life” I pointed out.

“It always applies. That’s why it’s in so many books” Jackson pointed out.

                “But what is the weak point?” Marci asked, finding her voice despite the circumstances.

                “I’ve been thinking about that, and I have a theory. Technology is what feeds the monster, so to destroy it…”

                “We need to not use technology?” Marci and I guessed at the same time.

                “But we don’t have anything anti-technological.” I continued, and began to rack my brains for an answer.

                Marci stood up.

                “Open the door, and stop the car” She commanded.

                “Are you mad, woman?” Jackson asked, surprised.

                “Do it!” Marci yelled.

                Jackson seemed to think it over, and the bus stopped of its own accord.

                “Be safe” Jackson advised, and Marci ran out. I followed.

                The bus had been driving of its own accord, and had stopped in the middle of a forest, not unlike the forest in my backyard. Marci began to look around on the ground, and picked something up off the ground.

                “What’s that?” I asked, because the darkness hid the mass from view.

                “A rock, the oldest weapon around.” Was all she said, and was interrupted by the hiss of metal grating on itself.

                Marci stood with the stone in hand, and stared at the creature with a scorn even I felt. The serpent stood towering, a good twenty feet up, and about 15 feet away. It’s body was covered in scratches that came from thorns, rocks, even leaves, which it could not protect itself from.

                None too soon, Marci hurled the stone

                Crack!

                The single light coming from the beast’s eye went out with a flash of blue-white light, and the clanks and thuds of metal striking rock and dirt afterwards told me the beast was as dead as such a creature could be.

                Marci stood, shaking with fright and triumph. I couldn’t help it, and I gave her the most passionate kiss I’d ever given her.

TITUS!!!!

Sorry, but I needed an attention-grabber to get my dad to rejoice, because there’s a new chapter of my old story.

When I woke up, I found myself in the water. I wasn’t injured, except my back ached. The only reason I didn’t drown was because the doors retained the water. A slight whirring told me a pressurization pump was making the air not crush me.

The windshield didn’t show a nice sight. All I could see around me, which wasn’t far, was rocks, sand, fish, and green water. In the distance, I could see the murky shapes of cliffs.

The car started, surprisingly enough, when I turned the key, and moved when I pushed the joystick forward. I was able to move the car about thirty feet before the power flickered, and then went out completely. The air pressurization pump went off temporarily, before a back-up battery turned it on again.

I knew the battery wouldn’t last long. I knew that I’d have to swim. The breathing mouthpiece, luckily enough, was in my pocket, and I put it in my mouth.

While rummaging in my pocket, the paper from Ivan rubbed against my hand, and I took it out. A faint blue glow was emanating from it, which led to me opening it.

“Incredible” I said to myself. I folded the paper, and tried to open the door. The door was held because of the pressure difference, which was pushing the windows in. I could hear the motor whirring, trying to move, but the suction was too great. I was stuck; if I opened the door, I would be crushed. If I stayed in the car, I would be crushed.

I began to mope about the end of my life, when two familiar figures swam by, one of which rammed the windshield with all his might. The glass cracked, but did not break, and the car began to fill with water.

When the car was full of water, the automatic door lifted up, but the water was crushing me. A shark gripped me around my waist, and pulled me out. Everything began to feel fuzzy, and breathing didn’t come. I felt myself slowly suffocating.

Years later, I felt the weight on my chest lightening. I could breathe again, which I did with vigor. I passed out.

        *             *             *

When I awoke, I was still in the water, but Jackson and the two sharks, whom I thanked, were there, which made me feel better.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Well, after Xenophilius got you out of that car, you came up too fast. Orion says you got decompression sickness, and had to bring you back down to the bottom again to get you to feel better. It’s been about three days, and we’ve been swimming out to sea to find Titus” Jackson replied

“How do you know where Titus is?”

“Orion’s heard of him, but is unhappy to see him. Orion says he’s a kind of sea monster.”

“Well, that’s reassuring” I said with morose.

We said nothing, but kept swimming. Half an hour later, I remembered something, and called the others over.

“What do you make of this?” I asked, and showed them the paper, which was glowing stronger.

Orion, who knew everything, didn’t even know what it was, although he guessed that it was activated by water, and was a means of taking the note-bearer to the subject.

“It’s brighter since I last saw it, so maybe it gets brighter when you get closer” I suggested, halfheartedly.

“It probably just looks like that because we are closer to the sun and the surface” Orion said.

I wasn’t one to argue, so I kept my mouth shut, even though I was sure I was right.

We swam on.

*             *             *

The night came, and we were still looking. We were far out to sea, as Jackson reported. The sea floor was covered with shadows of unseen things. Xenophilius and Orion were out farther on, looking on with their night-vision.

All of a sudden, something happened.

A shadow from the ocean floor detached itself from the others, and came closer. The note in my hand grew blindingly bright white. Someone shouted for help. Pain shot up my leg, and the water around me was tinged red. I was dragged down, my ears popped, and my head exploded, and my vision grew white.

The plot thickens

Just likebeef stew or waffles, the story begins to get good:

During the next three hours, we seemed to be driving aimlessly, taking random turns. I decided not to tell Jackson that we had made 15 left turns in a row. Marci began to daydream, and then fell asleep. Finally, as night began to fall, I cracked.

                “Can you please tell us where we are going?” I snapped. Jackson didn’t say anything for a minute, then pulled into the exact same warehouse we started out in, and pulled the car in park

                “I guess I should” Jackson said.

#             #             #             #             #             #             #             #             #             #             #             #             #

                “Eighteen years ago, I boarded a flight to visit my dad. The flight didn’t make it to its destination; The plane landed up in a parallel universe, Zone 1836 if you want to go there.

                “To free our friend, we needed a way to get all three of us home. We discovered this bus in Titus’s lair, which he gave to us, and showed us how to work it.

                “Ian was the original Driver, but he’s gotten too old to continue…I haven’t been in touch with him in about five years.

                “Exactly how old the bus is is unknown, but we know the bus is old. It’s rusting in a variety of places, and the Magno-Gyrascope needs repairs badly. I estimate it will break if we travel to any more than seven different points in time or in any other dimension. We can drive to places okay as long as we don’t go through a wormhole to get there.

                “I know we need seven things of great power to fix the bus”

                “Powerful things are found in the most powerful city of each different dimension, and the most powerful of the powerful are in the dimensions where each element takes precedence.

                “Lastly, I know that each powerful object is guarded by something related to the object itself. That’s why I was looking for candidates all those years ago”.

                After his monologue, I once again found myself doubting Jackson’s sanity. Yet, we were still in a city that I both have never seen before and that I definitely wasn’t in five hours ago.

                Jackson had started the bus again, and was pulling out of the warehouse again. Again, we made all sorts of turns without any rhyme or reason, with no definite pattern.

                “If Washington, D.C., is where this ‘object of power’ is, then where is it?” I asked Jackson.

                “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. The compass isn’t as reliable as it used to be. It used to be able to show us the route, like a GPS, but the receiver is jammed. I can only determine a route from fluctuations in power. We pick up plenty of false readings; cell phones can mess with the reading, which is the reason it’s taking so long.”

                Nothing else was said, so I took to staring outside. It began to rain. Marci continued to sleep

$              $              $              $              $              $              $              $              $              $              $              $              $

                Heavy rain pounded the windshield.

                Every turn became more and more straightforward, and we were definitely going in a set direction

                Right after the sun set, we began to leave the city of Washington, D.C. We began to drive down a secluded road. There were no streetlights; the only illumination came from one flickering headlight on the bus.

                Eventually, we stopped in front of a metal building. The building was a large arch, like an old airplane hangar. It seemed abandoned, and I wouldn’t have stopped for it for any reason

                “This is the place” Jackson said.

If my “on-a-roll”edness was a velocity, it would be the speed of light

After showing you my inner geek, I decide it’s story time. The plot unfolds!

“But what’s it doing here?” I asked.

“I’m not sure…maybe it we just left here by someone” Marci replied, and gave a little shriek as we saw something moving inside.

I went to go see it, but Marci held me back. “What if it’s a murderer?” She asked, concerned. She was right, but my curiosity burned. I looked around, and found a thick branch, which I held like a sword as I moved toward the bus.

                I crept closer and closer, and the person inside continued to do whatever they were doing. They seemed agitated. I was about to knock on the blue door of the bus when it swung open.

                “Let’s move it, come on, we don’t have much time. Bring your friend too” A voice said from the interior of the bus. A head peeped from view. “Hurry up! Don’t stand there!”.

                The face looking at me was the old man’s, although slightly younger. His hair was red and tidy, and he wore a blue suit with a tie, on which the Pythagorean Theorem was written repeatedly. He was wearing black-rimmed glasses.

                “Don’t stand there gawking at me, get a move on! We’re on a schedule here!” He shouted, and waved a clipboard with tiny writing on it. I couldn’t make out anything on it, but it was certainly packed with events.

                 “Um…ok, I guess…” I stammered, and turned around to beckon to Marci, but she was already behind me.

                “You’re the man from the booth!” She said excitedly. The man nodded vigorously, and began to walk to the other end of the bus. We followed, and the door shut behind us.

Until the doors closed, I felt okay, but afterward I began to get nervous. I only saw the man once, and I didn’t even talk to him much. Marci, however, continued to walk forward, unperturbed.

The man came back from the back of the bus, carrying two tall helmets with blue fluid inside. A window from the front showed how full it was.

“Put these on” the man said, without any explanation. We did as we were told, and a strange calm feeling came over me. The man sat in the seat up front, and put his seatbelt on.

“Sit down” He grumbled, “and hold on.”

He pulled a lever, and I passed out.

Electric-blue light filled my vision, until I realized that I wasn’t passed out. The bus was filled with blue light, and the windows were covered with steel. I tried to get up, but gravity was too much, and it only pushed me down farther. Then, all at once, the sensations stopped. The blue light was gone; the windows were glass again, although the vision of outside wasn’t too great.

We were in a warehouse and definitely not the forest in my backyard. The warehouse was about a half-mile square, and 20 feet high. Before I could see anything more, We were outside.

We were definitely not in our city. I didn’t know where we were, although I did know that we were in a lot of trouble.

“Where are we” Marci asked, suddenly.

“Washington” The man grunted

“D.C.?” I asked, incredulous. “What the hell are we doing in Washington?”

“We can’t be in Was…” Marci began, and her eyes focused behind me.

Behind me was the Washington Monument, almost concrete proof that we were, in fact, In Washington, DC.

“Understand that I felt bad by taking you away from family, but this is sort of important” The man said, while we drove past the Jefferson Memorial.

“First off, who the bleep are you?” I asked hotly.

“No need for language” The old man tutted, “You both remember when we last met, right?”

“Yes” Marci and I said, at the same time. I looked at her, and she at me, incredulous.

“About 20 years ago, I began to realize that I needed some people to help me out with this” he pointed at the dash, “and began to look for some bright kids. You seemed the best candidates. Congratulations, I guess”.

We stayed quiet for a little bit, and Marci ventured a question, “What is this?”

“This is called a Inter-Transport Regional Operational Machine, or ITROM. It’s my own design. I really should tell you the story sometime. Basically, it uses a Magno-Gyrascope to “spin” the bus through the 240 combinations of magnetic fields through five dimensions.” He finished, proudly.

“Why haven’t I heard of it? It sounds extremely powerful.” I asked, accusingly.

“Because science says that such a mechanism is impossible.” The man replied simply.

“If it’s impossible, then why does it work?” I asked

“Simply put, it’s impossibility makes it work” The man said, “Only impossibility can make the impossible happen”

His logic is sound I thought, And the man seems sound of mind. He hasn’t began jumping around yelling colors or anything. And we were, in fact, in Washington, which is the most damning evidence. Although something didn’t seem right, that the man was just that, the man.

“What is your name?” I asked, finally.

The man thought for a good thirty seconds, and replied “Jackson”

COMMENT: The self-same one

On a roll

All day, I’ve been wondering how the new story would turn out. I’ve had exactly one comment, and that commenter said my story sucked her in (but also said that I double posted). The plot still isn’t really revealed, but more of it is. And I didn’t bold those letters for nothing! Commencing the next part:

Four years ago, just before I got out of middle school, I fell in love. Her name was Marci, and she was the most wonderful person. She laughed at my mediocre jokes, and said she liked my stories. She had blonde hair, brown eyes, and a nice smile.

On our first date, we went to a Thai Restaurant. At first, we were really shy and just picked at our food, until I made a joke about two peanuts walking down a street, “And one was assaulted”. She giggled at this, and we were less tense, and the talk flowed more freely. Before the dinner was over, I had shown her the story I was writing, which she read in due diligence, and made comments and corrections. She showed me her sketchbook, which she had filled with drawings of everything. I didn’t make corrections, but told her they were beautiful.

Reading was both of our passions. We would spend Saturdays at my house. In the backyard, we had a one-acre meadow, backed by a half-circle of trees two of these trees were absolutely perfect for reading. It was under these that Marci and I sat and read on Saturdays. Marci usually read Sci-fi Romance, while I stuck to fantasy, although occasionally we switched books, and I read about time travelling husbands while she read about people stuck in fantasy worlds. Saturday quickly became my favorite day.

Every Saturday, things usually went as planned. On this particular Saturday, a couple days before Halloween, we sat in our usual spots. It was around 2:15, and we had just finished a couple of hot dogs for lunch, when Marci closes her book, with her index finger holding her place, and turned to me and asked, “Let’s go do something”

I closed my book in the same fashion, and looked at her and asked, “What?”

“I don’t know” was the response, “Let’s go for a walk in the woods”

I considered this, and decided it was a nice day for a walk, and folded a triangle on the page corner. Marci put a bookmark in her book, and we began to walk slowly, hand in hand, into the forest

Sometime later, we heard a large boom to our right, and spotted a pile of leaves thrown into the air. The birds began to fly away, and when the fluttering passed, it was considerably lighter. We couldn’t see what made the noise and the geyser of leaves; and who wants to investigate something when you have a beautiful girl in your presence?

                Marci looked at me, with her head tilted slightly sideways. “What was that?” She asked, with a hint of a daydream.

                “Probably a branch” I said, trying to sound sure. It would’ve been a big branch I thought.

                Marci began to walk toward the leaves, which were still floating down from the crash. I began to walk after her, and tried to hold her hand, but she didn’t hold it back, but continued straight on.

                “Is something wrong?” I asked her, as we approached the sight were the leaves were still falling.

                “I thought I saw something…” She paused, “Blue” she said in one breath, and I looked, and…

There was the periwinkle blue bus 

I know what your thinking…

If you go back about a hundred years, back to the time when my story had roman numerals instead of titles, you’ll find a little clause that reads the following: “The other day I really got into short stories. As you might know, I’m writing a book, but whenever I have writers block I always have other ideas in storage. I’ve decided all my short storys will be written in the first person, and be based on actual experiences. Or maybe based on dreams. It really all depends on my mood. So, I have officially declared that every non-vowel post (R,W,G, and L) will contain a smidgen of short story. I may not always stay true to a story…this means I might skip around

                When I was three, my mother and I took a day-long bus ride to the coast to go to the beach. I had never seen a bus before, especially something this big. When it approached, it hissed and the door opened, seemingly by magic. The driver was on top of a tall staircase, and I tottered nervously up the large steps. The bus driver asked my mother for tickets, and mother gave him two white pieces of paper, which he took, and smiled at me. I knew then that I wanted to drive that big bus sometime

                I didn’t remember this story until my mom began to describe it to me later

                Happily, when I was six, our class went to the Job Fair, which was in the gymnasium. Our teacher said we would get to look at all the different jobs, and learn about the people

                There were many people there, some old and some young, and some with long titles that were hard to pronounce. The “important” people were in front, but the “less important” were in the back, and less people milled around these stalls.

                I had broken away from the class, who were looking at magnets and other items, and approached a stall with nobody around it. An old man, perhaps 60 or older, was behind the table, surrounded by pamphlets with the title Bus Driver written in large letters. A banner above the man bore the same title.

                I approached the stall, and the old man smiled at me.

                “What’s your name?” He asked in a throaty voice.

                “My name is Martin Matthias Monrow” Responded I, with a touch of pride

                The old man leaned closer, and asked me, “Would you like to see my bus?”

                My eyes opened up wide, and I said, “Yes!”

                The man smiled once more, and got out of his seat and began to walk toward the back of the gym. I followed, looking back to see if anybody was going to protest me going to see this man’s bus. No one did, and I darted over to the man’s side, just as he opened the door, and with a flourish, showed me the bus, which was parked on the street outside.

                The bus was small, about 20 feet long, and had a flat front. It wasn’t yellow, but a periwinkle blue. The bus number was 41, which was written in gold font. The hubcaps were covered with something shiny, that didn’t seem to reflect normally. A satellite dish, about 2 feet in diameter, was on top, pointing toward some point in the sky.

                “That’s a neat bus” I said.

                “Thank you” The man said kindly, “Do you want to see it?”

                Before I could respond with my choice, I heard my name called out. It was my teacher, and we had to go back to class. I dropped my head, and started to shuffle away, when the old man said:

                “Maybe some other time”

       Yet, time passed, and I never saw the bus. But it dropped my mind, as more important things began to crop up, such as starting middle school six years later and then high school three years later. Learning how to drive took precedence after that, and after that going to prom.

                I didn’t want to be a bus driver anymore. I opted for the path of creative writing, which I am no good at. There is no pleasing the teacher; He says my writing is too fantastic, which I thought was a complement; until he explained that he actually didn’t like my “made-up stories”.

                This story is not a “made-up story”, but a completely true narrative. This is my final story of my senior year; the year ends in two weeks, and I’m going to college in a few months time. I’m already in trouble with the class, so no one should care about what I write.

Here goes nothing.

Hah hah, you don’t know the plot! I don’t think I should tell you yet…

Dad turns x years old

Yesterday was an exciting day, to say the least. In the morning, I wished my Dad, who is my dad, editor, and critic, a Happy birthday with a song:

heyheyhey/ It’s your birthday/ and i have to say/ it isn’t may/ this is from J.

Except he was offline so I was slightly put-out. Which is extremely funny, considering what happened later.

Afterwards, we got a picnic table, which I built, and I’ve never hated drilling so much. Mom burned brush, which got out of control and went like 8 feet in the air. We had to put it out using pitchers of water (our hose was too short). I got a lot of excersize, and burned off the calories I got from eating Mcdonalds (puns intended). After that, I went inside, and read a book. Nobody told me there was a WASP IN MY SLEEVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <dramaticmusic> AND IT STUNG ME TWICE <biggerdramaticmusic> AND IT WAS IN THE HOUSE AND WE COULDN’T FIND IT </dramiticmusic></biggerdramaticmusic>. I’m ok, btw. the wasp was squished repeatedly for good effect (when we found it).

All in all, an exciting day. Say HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO DAD!!!!!!!