Meghan: Spill

I watched helplessly as the doomed coffee tipped in slow motion from where it had been resting on my notebook. But my grasping fingers were too late and I hissed and curled around my scalded leg. The smell of sweet coffee heated by Meghan flesh wafted through the room for the rest of the microbiology class, causing many a student to glance over and lick their lips in a concerning manner, much like hyenas scenting a wounded antelope. I fled as soon as I could but groaned when I remembered that I had an advising appointment in two hours that I would have to wait for. So I waited. Perhaps some homework was done, I don’t really remember because the caffeine had soaked its way through the thin barrier of my skin and was eating at my thoughts. Eventually the appointment came and went and I treaded wearily to the bus stop where I could finally take the bus home and be clean. I was leaning against a railing by the stop, craning my neck and my eyeballs for any approaching vehicle, when I felt something furry brush against my leg. I brushed a hand across my ankle, not really thinking about it, but when my fingers smacked the fuzzy thing I realized my mistake and snatched my hand back. The angry wasp twirled past my face, buzzing angrily.
So cute.
It zoomed around my head and was joined in its voyage by another one. Okay, one I can handle, two is less cute and more pain probable. I edged further down the rail away from the happy couple, but they continued to twirl around me. I felt one land on my thigh momentarily before I brushed it off, which is when the edging in the other direction turned to walking quickly in the other direction. The walking turned to running when the two wasps were joined by more of their friends. Luckily I saw my bus in the distance and belted toward it. The angry looking woman behind the wheel grudgingly opened the doors for me. As soon as I slipped inside I turned around to push shut the doors behind me. The swarm was huge by now; I panted with effort as I forced the doors that last inch and winced in relief as I heard their tiny yellow bodies smashing against the barrier. Now there was only the short bus ride home and a little walk until I was home free. I stretched my legs out on the empty bus seats, limbering up for the last part in my journey. Sure enough, when the doors slid open at my stop the swarm was there waiting for me. Holding a textbook in front of my face like a shield I sprinted through the thick of them. I heard them buzzing for my sugar-soaked skin and I fled faster than I’ve ever fled before. I considered stopping for the traffic light but then a wasp bounced directly off of my cheek and I decided to chance it. Waving apologies to the oncoming vehicles (surely they could see I had more pressing issues then wherever they had to be) I kept up the pace until I approached my house. In record time I dug my keys from my backpack, clicked open my door, then slammed it behind me. Most of the bugs had been safely barricaded outside but a few still buzzed in the room with me. I dropped my backpack to the floor and stripped off everything I was wearing, shoving it into the washing machine. The insects followed with glee, I could almost hear them rejoicing that their sweet prey had given up the chase. I slammed the lid down to cover them and twirled the dial on the machine, sighing with relief when I heard the water beginning to churn. Yes I am a bad person. Feeling mildly bad about the whole thing (I did seduce them with spilled coffee after all) I laid my cheek against the hard metal of the washing machine and told them that I hoped their little insect souls would finally find peace. Then I padded upstairs for my bath.





This is based on a real story
It is only slightly exaggerated

-Meghan

Meghan: NC

I closed my eyes and lay my head down on the cool surface of my laptop wishing that I could just die quietly. Maybe I would go to a place where I didn’t have to get up so early to go to class and there were no fluorescent classroom lights to lance my eyeballs.
Uuuggghhhh…
I massaged my shoulder with one hand, wincing when I reached the bruises that traced my spine. Spring break had been fantastic, but great things have great prices.
People had begun filtering into the classroom and I clicked on my computer while I waited for the people who would be grouped with me that day to come find me.
“Hi!” said a bright voice behind me as my laptop sung its ‘coming to life’ song. I turned a little to see one of my group members slide in beside me.
“My name is Anne.” She gave me a 100 watt smile.
“I’m Meghan.” I blinked back.
Her eyes flicked over me and her smile wilted by a few decibels. I stopped rubbing the bruises on my neck and blushed as I pulled at my short hair.
If you could see Anne, you would understand her reaction. Her light brown hair was coiffed back under a prim headband and pearl earrings twinkled at her earlobes (one piercing only). A pert mouth was expertly painted with pink lipstick and her sundress was white and patterned with cherries (I kid you not).
As for me, earrings spiked up both of my ears, my short blonde hair was in disarray from the humidity and the lack of time to try to tame it that morning. Bruises spattered their way across my body in a telling manner, and the wide neck of my shirt showed the edge of my tattoo creeping its way across my shoulder. And I probably had a giant red spot on my face from sleeping on my computer.
Still smiling awkwardly I turned back to my computer and logged on. Belatedly I remembered that I had put up a background picture of a naked angel embracing another angel made of metal. It’s a beautiful picture, hardly scandalous at all. But sure enough, when I snuck a glance at Anne she was staring at my computer with a look much like fear. The bright smile was still pasted on her face but her eyes were just a little too wide.
Sigh



-Meghan

That guy: brb vacation Day 1

As in the event of any trip I've ever taken, nothing runs as planned. It makes me wonder why we even have a plan in the first place. I think it's so we have something to compare ourselves to.

Running three hours behind is never fun. However, no tires exploded, no rafts broke, no horrible mosquito clouds summoned themselves from the deep to consume our souls, and so, being only three hours late wasn't that bad.

A break is something I rarely get. Even a few days off here and there is hard to obtain.

I have a whole week off.

It took two months in advance to aquire said time off.

So where do I go?

The treacharous wasteland of Utah.

Delicious.

Anyways.

My day.

Start at 35°04.104'
106°29.852'

First stop is a little town just before San Ysidro. I stopped here on my last trip to Utah for coffee with my uncle. Whee. Potty break. I forgot how much fun bathroom condom dispensers were.

Continue to 36°42.591'
107°59.046'

Bloomfield, NM.

Typical little one horse travel town.
Gas is 2.81 a gallon. Cheap compared to what we've seen on the way so far. The men are divided into two groups. Tourist and local. The tourists are seen with the tourist women, driving overpriced SUV's. The locals all have beards. The women are in the same groups. The local ones look like ZZ Top mixed with Rosie O' Donnell. It's horrifying. I eat a Fruit by the Foot. Molly looses my keys in the car. We drove all day.

The only real loss from our three hour delay means that by thee time we've arrived, and found our hotel, every food place has started to close. At 8:30 at night. Feh.

Our only option is the Denny's right next door. Another feh.

Also, our phone and fridge don't work. And somehow our reservation for a one room two night became one night two room. Another whee.

Anyways, time for bed. Sleepy abe is sleepy.

Doug: Wake

My friends keep dying.

First it was Zak. He didn't deserve to get wrapped around the Taco Cabana sign. He didn't deserve a lot of what happened to him. He didn't deserve the Teretz, or the people making fun of him for it.

I didn't deserve him as a friend.

Too late to appreciate that now. He's gone.

Another couple years. I'm older. Another Zach dies. Lovejoy. I won't lie. There were a lot of times that I did not like Zach Lovejoy. He was a pain in the ass sometimes. But he was also a damnably loyal friend. As they say, a nightmare for his enemies and never a more trustworthy friend.

Zach joined the Army. Zach had a fiancee. Zach grew up a lot faster than the rest of us did.

Zach drove over an IED in Afghanistan.

I don't know how much was left, and it doesn't really matter.

Two of my friends.

I woke up in tears last night. In my dream, I had to explain to Chris Whippo's parents why they couldn't see his body. It was because the car bomb hadn't left anything larger than his boot.

Chris Whippo is still alive. However. It is unlikely that very many of the friends I have made are going to go quietly in their sleep.

This is the life I live.

-Doug

"What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

"I have become a man with ghosts."

Doug: Whoops

So, I made a stupid.

Last night, while on watch, I decided that I'd finally get around to buying Jasmine's birthday present. She already knows what it is, so I don't feel bad posting about it.

Apparently ever since she saw Resident Evil 3, Jasmine has wanted a Kukri Machete, just like the ones that Alice uses in the movie to deal death to stinky zombies. Kukri's have a long and rather interesting history, most of it bloody. It is essentially a Nepalise tool/weapon knife, similar to the pukko in that it can be used for gutting recently killed game... or gutting your neighbor when he looks funny at your sister.

So, I did some research. I asked Sgt. Google about Kukri's. I asked Sgt. Google about Gurkhas, a type British colonial infantry that used Kukris. I asked my brother about his Kukri.

Finally, I looked online for some Kukri's. I found a really nice one at Cheaperthandirt.com, a shooting/survivalist/hunting website that has a pretty good reputation.

So, imagine me, bored out of my mind on watch in the wardroom, surfing the internet and watching Burn Notice. I realize that I have yet to buy Jasmine's birthday present. Even though her birthday was the day before. Whoops. Well, the plan was to give it to her on spring break anyway. Still, I decided I should probably get on it.

So I whip out the trusty Gold debit card and fill out an account and go through the relatively simple process of buying shit online. And then I click "Purchase."

And nothing happens.

Meh, whatever, it must be user error, right? I go back, make sure all my contact info is correct, and click again.

And nothing happens.

A third time. This time a little message pops up and tells me I've messed up the order process.

I have the sudden and violent urge to throw my computer out the window. BUT. I'm patient, I try again.

Apparently, I have used up all my credit card authorizations for today.

Imagine a small nuclear bomb ticking closer and closer to critical mass in the upstairs wardroom of Clark Hall. This is but a fraction of my emotional fury.

But I calm. I am the warm center of the universe. I am the eye of the storm.

And then I check my bank account... And the bomb goes off.

Apparently I have ordered the same item, this stupid fucking KUKRI, not one, not two, not three, but FOUR TIMES. I have a total of about thirty dollars in my account, where there was once around two hundred and fifty. I exist in a world of RAGE.

Sigh. I am calm. I am centered. I am going to call up everyone at this fucking store and CALMLY tear their arms and legs off. We'll see how they fix their computer order taking system when their fingers are shoved into every available orifice. The new nickname for their customer service department will be "Department Stumpy."

Jasmine will get her Kukri. But it might come slightly used.

That is all.

-Doug

"It is my fondest desire to bust a host of caps into a multitude of asses."
-Fables 'March of the Wooden Soldiers'

Doug: Hold the Line

Ivan (Breaker) Zeitzev stood immobile as a statue, his massive armored form blocking the small entryway to the Well of Souls. Around his massive armored feet were scattered the remains of other armor suits, shell casings, and other detritus of battle. The ornate entryway behind him had been damaged beyond repair. Cracks now ran through the alien script and pictographs, chunks of the archway itself had fallen off and now lay haphazardly in the battle zone.

Across from where Breaker held the line, a mass of possessed Athenian Armored Infantry stood. Unholy darkness streamed out of the cracks in their armor, twisting into waving masses of unnatural shapes with hungry mouths and sharp teeth. Some of their faceplates were either clear or simply torn off, and Breaker could see the insanity filled eyes slowly dripping blood. At least forty mad voices babbled words that not human could ever speak, much less understood.

Breaker had been mercilessly tearing apart anything that approached the entrance he was guarding using everything from his arm mounted machine gun to pieces of Athenian soldiers as clubs. Now there was a lull in the action. Inside his armor, Breaker heaved deep, gasping breaths, adrenaline catching up to him. There was pain too. The darkness erupting out of the tortured bodies of the Athenians was taking its toll on him. The tentacles with mouths tore straight through his armor like so much paper. Even with the subspace shields The Light had put on his armor, he could feel them sapping his will and tearing at the edges of his mind.

Trying to drive me crazy? He thought, Is too bad I am already there.

A burst of static in his radio caught his attention. “Still alive out there?” Brand’s voice was filled with the tight knowledge that his rearguard may indeed have been killed. Behind his voice was the sounds of battle inside The Well.

“I live Captain. Many have fallen trying to take the entry, but still I hold.” He hesitated, “It does not go well inside?” This would have been over much sooner if it had.

Brand ducked a wild swing from a possessed Royal Guard and then dropped him with a blast from his arm mounted chaingun. “No. It does not go well.” He glanced over to where Diana was simultaneously fighting five Warrior suits. He could see the men inside them thrash and snarl with the madness of being fully possessed by The Dark. Bubbling pitch now streamed from their eyes in rivulets as Dark manifested itself fully.

“I will hold.”Breaker’s voice was serene. “You must get The White to the Altar.”

“That all depends on the girl. Can you hold?” Brand’s suit mounted 67mm mortar completely obliterated body of a Warrior making a suicide run for Juliette. Juliette herself crouched on the ground, muttering strange words in the language of the First Ones.

“I will hold until I can no longer draw breath. Then I will hold until my eyes cannot see. And then I will hold until my arms cannot lift my weapons. Until these monsters swim over my destroyed corpse, I will hold.” Ivan Zeitzev, known to his friends as “Breaker”, declared. “I will hold, Captain Constantine Brand. I will buy you the time you need to end this.”

Brand accepted this answer with the leader’s knowledge that this kind of loyalty could not be bought or coerced. “Hold out a little bit longer Breaker. We’re going to finish this fight.”

Breaker heard the radio click off and refocused on the Athenians in front of him. Their numbers had more than doubled. Still, it was not the possessed Athenians that made Breaker fear for his promise to Brand; it was the nightmare beast they brought with them.

At least two and a half meters long, the pure black thing looked like a large reptile that had been mutated and then half melted. Oozing pustules erupted and reformed, and even through his filters Breaker could smell the stench it gave off. There were too many legs with too many claws, and a mouth with far too many teeth. He locked eyes with it, Dark brown boring into merciless evil darkness deeper than any black hole.

It snarled and emitted a scream that caused the foundations of The Well to crumble. It was then that Breaker first suspected he would die in this crusade.

Still, the armored man stood his ground against the many and snarled back, issuing his own challenge. “I AM IVAN ZEITZEV!!! I AM THE LAST CITIZEN OF KIEV! I HAVE BEEN HUNTED ACROSS THE STARS BY MONSTERS UNIMAGINABLE! I HAVE SEEN THE LOST CITY OF THE OLD ONES, AND SPOKEN WITH THE WHITE ITSELF! I HAVE FOUGHT DEMONS AND DEMI-GODS AND DEFEATED THEM ALL! MY CAPTAIN HAS ASKED ME TO HOLD THIS GROUND, AND BY ALL GODS LIGHT AND DARK I WILL!”

He drew the Corusca Sword given to him by Gabriel, Keeper of the White’s City. “Come Fell Beast. I am ready.”

“A thousand years from now what will be remembered is that few stood against many, and were willing to die to save the future."
-Anon

Meghan: Token

Shivers ran up her arms and she rubbed at the goose bumps that rippled across her skin. Letting out a breathe she leaned against the wall and stared into space. The loss and pain of the room bit at her soul like ice, she could practically see the waves of emotion clouding the air above the bent heads and hunched shoulders that crowded the room. When would it end? The waiting was worse than if something awful would just happen already. That last thread of hope that barely floated within each of them brought on a pain worse than death. Eyes downcast, she shuffled her way to the desk that they all made their way to.
“Name?”
“Valentine.”
“Life?”
She blinked at the shrewish woman clutching the endless paperwork, “My life? Well I—“
“Good or bad.” The woman said shortly, “Nothing else.”
“Oh. Good?”
“Hmmm…” the woman eyed her doubtfully over the edge of her glasses, “Fine, take this.” And passed her a dove.
The living bird fluttered in Valentine’s hands and she pressed it to her chest, uncertain. No one else had birds; she had seen many different tokens; gold coins, rubix cubes, paperclips, but no birds.
“Next.” The woman said dully, looking down at her papers once more.
“Ah…” Valentine murmured in a questioning tone.
“Next.” The woman’s voice had a faint growl to it. Valentine rushed away from her desk with her dove.
“Pretty bird.” A voice hissed in her ear and she turned to it, startled. The man it belonged to grinned, showing cracked teeth.
“Wanna trade?” He held up a golden coin and waved it back and forth so it caught the light.
“N-no thank you.” She said and clutched the dove tighter, backing away. She hit the wall and tried to slide down it through the crowds of people but she was stuck. With a gasp she fell through sludge that had once been a wall. She reached towards the familiar light of the room but she was falling with her bird flapping angrily in her arms. She landed with a soft thump in another room where everything was colored in soft gray tones. She curled her legs under her and looked around for whatever happened next.
“Get up stupid; you’re not broken are you?” Valentine looked to the voice to see a little girl perched on a soft dark-gray easy chair, swinging her legs back and forth. Valentine just gaped wordlessly and clutched at the bird in her arms. The little girl’s eyes lit up at the angry coos of the dove.
“You’re one of those?” she clapped her hands in delight, “They haven’t sent me one in ages I thought you were dying out.”
“One what?” Valentine asked. But the girl just plopped down beside her and held out her hands for the bird.
“Let me see.”
Valentine handed over the dove without thinking about it. Unlike with the man in the waiting room there was no threat here.
“Ooohh pretty thing.” The girl purred to the dove. She looked at Valentine with bright, interested eyes, “So would you like to know your fate?”
“Yes please.” Valentine said in relief, finally someone would tell her.
“You’re going to be an angel.”
Valentine blinked, “Ah…”
“Yep, wings, battling evil, protect the good, that whole thing.”
Valentine winced at the description and the thought that it was possible. It was just too…cliché? Unbelievable? She almost preferred the waiting room to this one where creepy little girls told her crazy things.
“I am not creepy.” The girl said grumpily.
Valentine didn’t reply, her tolerance for weird was close to gone.
“Well then you’re not going to like this.” The little girl said and threw the dove into the ceiling. It pushed out its flat surface in a way similar to the putty-wall, creating a tunnel.
“Up you go.” The girl said, beaming.
“This is not happening.” Valentine breathed as she stared at the ceiling.
“Whatever makes you feel better.” The little girl said.
The gentle sucking that Valentine had felt from the tunnel turned into a roaring vacuum. She swirled into the air and heard the girl call after her.
“Come visit when your training is done! Kill a demon for me, one with lots of horns!”
Valentine opened her mouth to reply but the ceiling putty slid over her mouth and eyes, pulling her up and away.


-Meghan