P. Meggy can't think

• Apparently.
• So this post is in semi-list form.
• No numbers, just kind of a list.
• Maybe I should put bullet points...(that would be too much work)
• I mentioned yesterday that my head has too much thoughts in it?
• Yeah
• (let it be noted that at this time I finally decided to add bullet points)
• Can you SEE the bullet points?
• .....anyway, well, I keep trying to write two POVs, but I get distracted.
• very easily.
• and I wish I had my card deck...
• I did learn a cardistry cut yesterday. It's very pretty. :)
• Fun stuff.
• Have I mentioned that our twitter feed comes up on the blog?
• Yeah, it's there, on the left of the posts.
• beneath the followers...
• I told Melissa she should read the blog today.
• DO YOU KNOW WHAT HER FIRST REACTION WAS?
• she asked me "has it been updated?"
• YES.
• IT HAS.
• MELISSA.
• I DID IT LAST NIGHT.
• GRRR
• so I'm updating it now, just to prove that I can blog two days in a row.

SHIFT: Prologue

Ross

Orange is just not my color.

Surprisingly, that’s just about all I could think of as I stared at my reflection in the prison issued mirror. That’s another thing about prison, everything is orderly, neat, and systematic. I should love it here. I ran a hand through my hair, wishing they’d have let me keep my comb. They wouldn’t even let me keep my comb, let alone my shoes. Sure, the prison issued pair looked a bit like Vans, but I do love my Chuck Taylor’s.

I sighed. All this wasn’t what I was thinking about, I hardly even cared that much. I was simply trying to distract myself. It was normally Cassidy’s job, and she would probably say about now, “You sound like such a girl! C’mon, man up, Rossie!” One of the many things you had to love about Cassidy.

Cassidy.

No, I wasn’t thinking about how much I hate orange. Which is true, I really do hate orange. It’s such a revolting color. But I wasn’t thinking about that. I was remembering how my own stupidity and cockiness had nearly gotten Cassidy in prison as well. It was just one slip of the tongue. No, I’ll be truthful, for once. I meant to say it, but I really didn’t think they’d be smart enough to catch the hint. My plans were fool-proof, they never went wrong.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of an officer’s shoes making those annoying clicking noises against the floor. I thought it was just another patrolling guard, so I chose to ignore it. That is, until the clicking stopped outside the bars of my cell. 

“Mr. Tate, you have a visitor.”

  A visitor? Who? Cassidy?

“Who is it?” I asked, looking over my reflection once more. This would annoy the guard, and I almost smiled. I didn’t like him very much. He was a little on the chubby side, though I’m sure he could take me in a fair fight. But, a fair fight is fictional, and I definitely wouldn’t fight one. He had this odd handlebar mustache that only made his face look fatter, and his breath smelt absolutely horrid. Yes, annoying this guard was pleasurable, and if I was stuck in this place for who knows how long, I had to find enjoyment somewhere.

“A rich-looking man in a business suit.” The guard jerked the back of the orange prison jumpsuit, and I stood. “Is he an...associate of yours?”

“A rich-looking man?” I echoed, momentarily bewildered. Of course it wasn’t Cassidy, she wouldn’t be stupid enough to come visit me so soon. But if it wasn’t her, then who was it? I hoped he didn’t have prison tattoos, because I was a dead man. I thought the mobsters had lost my trail long ago, but I could have very easily been mistaken.... “Maybe he’s my lawyer. How do you come by the assumption that he’s rich, Sherlock?”

“His suit’s Italian.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. It is.” The guard said, and the sense of finality hung in the air. So, I walked alongside him in silence, because he was certainly not going to keep the conversation going. Maybe he realized I was taunting him. Maybe. Probably not.

I sat down at one of the long tables very much like a picnic table that reminded me far too much of high school. Of course, I didn’t attend school for much longer after entering my freshman year, but still, I hated it. The guard nodded for me to wait, and I nodded in acknowledgement, though it wasn’t like I had much choice, with the cuffs and all.

After many agonizing minutes of wondering how many ways someone could kill me and not leave any forensic evidence, a man in a finely tailored, very Italian dark blue business suit arrived carrying a briefcase. He stuck a hand inside his jacket and pulled out a business card, which he slid to me across the table as he sat down. It was plain white, with black script in the center of the card that read THE ORGANIZATION.

“I take it you’re not my lawyer.”

“No, Mr. Tate. I’m not.”

“Well, let’s get the point. Isn’t that the way with you all?” I asked, waving the white card in the air. “Straightforward. Short, sweet, and to the point?”

The man chose to ignore my comment, and opened his case. Out of habit, I noticed that the latch had some sort of code that had to be put in order before it opened. The Organization Man pulled out some photos, all of either me or Cassidy, in Florida, in Nevada, in California, even that time in Paris. All different cons, all with different objectives and plans. I wasn’t surprised. The Organization liked to keep an eye on their ‘members.’ It wasn’t unlikely that they ‘checked up’ on you once in a while. I took one of the pictures of Cassidy and began folding it into a flower.

“In only the past year,” the man began, “you have been associated with some stolen painting, some lost money, and some shady business deals. It just seems that trouble seems to follow after you wherever you go. Luckily, you just happen to be long gone when everything is figured out.”

I smiled. Of course. That’s how my plans worked, and no one had charged me yet. Well, besides that past incident. “I was never accused with any of that, nor can it be proven. So, in theory, I had nothing to do with it.”

“The Organization isn’t stupid, Mr. Tate.” The man said, his voice hardening momentarily. It was his turn to smile. “And if our information were to get out...”

“Are you planning to blackmail me?” I asked, concentrated on the folding of the flower in my hands, and twirled it around, admiring the art of it.

“Of course not, Mr. Tate, we are just offering you a choice.” He pulled out a file and another photo from his briefcase, and set them on the table before me. “This is Jade Vann, a Shifter like you and I, but she is unaware of her talent. She is yet to have Shifted, but we believe it will happen soon. Jade,” He said, tapping the picture. “is in need of an apprenticeship. Everything you need to know about her is right in this file.

You are facing a terrible charge against you, Mr. Tate. You could be facing a lifetime prison sentence. It is all very...up in the air right now, but...” He let the words hang there, as if he were just daring me to finish his sentence for him. “If you were to take advantage of our offer, of course, we will make all of this disappear. It will be gone in the blink of an eye, like one of your little magic tricks.”

I ignored the slight against my cons, and stared at the girl in the photograph. She had a black hood pulled up over her head, and she was looking at her feet, so I couldn’t much make out her face. Earbuds traveled up and disappeared behind a curtain of black brown hair. I couldn’t see her expression in this photograph, but her shoulders were hunched forward, and she slouched; everything about her generally screamed miserable.

“So, Mr. Tate, what’ll it be? You have an opportunity to stay out of prison. Now you must decide if you will take it or not.”

I took the picture and began to fold it, also, into a different shape. I didn’t answer him immediately, just nodded in acknowledgement. I continued to fold as I looked at the pictures of Cassidy and myself and then to the folder which I knew held every detail about Jade Vann’s life in it.

“I need an answer, Mr. Tate.”

I sighed, and set the newly folded origami on the table next to the flower. It was no longer a picture of the girl, Jade Vann. It had changed into something different, into a crane.

“Well.” I said. “I’m certainly not going to go to prison.”

Tuesday Twenty!! (Another one?!?)

1. Yeah, it's a sad day because I never post on time.
2. But this time, it's not only me, Cat didn't, either. :)
3. I guess I'm not supposed to be pleased with myself over that...
4. .......but I finally beat the school rules that kept me from blogging at school.
5. Which may not be a good thing either.
6. I can still blog, you see, I just can't READ it...
7. It means I may do more things on time, you know. :P
8. I'm making NO PROMISES.
9. Because I have too many things in my head.
10. (That's what I have decided, there's too many things in my head for me to actually do them...so they float around and entertain me when I'm bored)
11. For instance, I was listening to Adele the other day, and I thought "Hmmm...I bet I could do a very dramatic, very epic, songfic for 'Set Fire to the Rain.'"
12. I did, actually, think of a very good one. I just have yet to write it down...(I guess that may be due to another of my strange organization habits)
13. The same thing happened to me this morning, while listening to Cartel. "If I Fail" and "Perfect Mistake"
14. I should add that to my list of things to write down sometime...
15. You should get excited for the posting of SHIFT
16. Did you enjoy the sneakity peekity?
17. I'm glad. I did, too. (Well, I wrote it :P)
18. I am also preoccupied by Chemistry homework (as I am no longer at school..) and the thought of learning cardistry....
19. It's great stuff. Not necessarily card TRICKS, you know, just flourishes. Fun things you can do. It involves a lot of flicking cards around and making it look cool. (YouTube it)
20. Yeah, it's kind of Rossicistic
~P. Megz OUT!!!

nifty and snazzy sneakity peekity (v. 2.0) "SHIFT"

Ross

Orange is just not my color.

Surprisingly, that’s just about all I could think of as I stared at my reflection in the prison issued mirror. That’s another thing about prison, everything is orderly, neat, and systematic. I should love it here. I ran a hand through my hair, wishing they’d have let me keep my comb. They wouldn’t even let me keep my comb, let alone my shoes. Sure, the prison issued pair looked a bit like Vans, but I do love my Chuck Taylor’s.

I sighed. All this wasn’t what I was thinking about, I hardly even cared that much. I was simply trying to distract myself. This was normally Cassidy’s job, and she would probably say about now, “You sound like such a girl! C’mon, man up, Rossie!” One of the many things you had to love about Cassidy.

Cassidy.

No, I wasn’t thinking about how much I hate orange. Which is true, I really do hate orange. It’s such a revolting color. But I wasn’t thinking about that. I was remembering how my own stupidity and cockiness had nearly gotten Cassidy in prison as well. It was just one slip of the tongue. No, I’ll be truthful, for once. I meant to say it, but I really didn’t think they’d be smart enough to catch the hint. My plans were fool-proof, they never went wrong.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of an officer’s shoes making those annoying clicking noises against the floor. I thought it was just another patrolling guard, so I chose to ignore it. That is, until the clicking stopped outside the bars of my cell. 

“Mr. Tate, you have a visitor.”

  A visitor? Who? Cassidy?

“Who is it?” I asked, looking over my reflection once more. This would annoy the guard, and I almost smiled. I didn’t like him very much. He was a little on the chubby side, though I’m sure he could take me in a fair fight. But, a fair fight is fictional, and I definitely wouldn’t fight one. He had this odd handlebar mustache that only made his face look fatter, and his breath smelt absolutely horrid. Yes, annoying this guard was pleasurable, and if I was stuck in this place for who knows how long, I had to find enjoyment somewhere.

“A rich-looking man in a business suit.” The guard jerked the back of the orange prison jumpsuit, and I stood. “Is he an...associate of yours?”

“A rich-looking man?” I echoed, momentarily bewildered. Of course it wasn’t Cassidy, she wouldn’t be stupid enough to come visit me so soon. But if it wasn’t her, then who was it? I hoped he didn’t have prison tattoos, because I was a dead man. I thought the mobsters had lost my trail long ago, but I could have very easily been mistaken.... “Maybe he’s my lawyer. How do you come by the assumption that he’s rich, Sherlock?”

“His suit’s Italian.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. It is.” The guard said, and the sense of finality hung in the air. So, I walked alongside him in silence, because he was certainly not going to keep the conversation going. Maybe he realized I was taunting him. Maybe. Probably not.

Sunday Seventeen...wow...

1. So last week I was going to blog about how when you're sick on the day a challenge is due you should get another week to do it.
2. And guess what stopped me? I was sick. Again.
3. That challenge is yet to be completed...
4. Not that I haven't tried. Writing in two separate POV's is difficult to organize
5. And I was distracted by "Punk Goes Classic Rock" and many covers of Bohemian Rhapsody...(the original version by Queen, too, of course)
6. Is there a way to have the PlotBunnyTwin's twitter show up on here? Just curious...
7. I think it's possible...
8. On another note, Cat and I have a plan, that I think will appease you until I actually learn to post on time.
9. Remember last November? 
10. Last year, Cat and I participated in National Novel Writing Month together, and though we didn't finish, we had loads of fun. :D
11. Oh, wait, CAT COOPER, I CHALLENGE YOU to write a songfic for BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY
12. It's a song that just sounds like it has a story to go with it. Even if it is kinda depressing...And, helpful hint, Don't try googling what the lyrics mean. It's REALLY depressing.
13. We now return to our lovely surprise plan...
14. We're going to be posting Shift (our NaNoWriMo novel) on the blog! Starting with my prologue!
15. (Btw, it's written in two POV's...can that count? Probably not...Cat and I had separate characters and their POV's. Mine being Ross and Cat's was Jade...you'll find out about them)
16. And occasionally having Shift-related challenges!
17. Aren't you EXCITED? I am. Cat is. It's just an exciting thing!
~P. Megz OUT!!!

HOLDUPWAITAMINUTEPUTALITTLELOVEINIT

1. My brain is so busted that I don't really know if I have fifteen different things to say.
2. Apparently, according to the FNI, there's one.
3. The FNI's apple is fat.
4. Just thought I would let the world know.
5. Can't kick the habit...I've got to have it...'cause I'm a love addict, love addict
6. That's a fun song.
7. So is...SHAKIN' LIkE AN EARTHQUAKE (It's family force six. Typo intentional)
8. erg
9. I love SHANE AND ETHAN. They're bromance is adorable. It's great stuff.
10. I never have continuing characters...maybe I should do that sometime.
12. "POOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP" and "FINGER SLAYER! MAHAHAHA!" quotes from Sarah, the FNI
13. For those of you who don't know, Finger Slayer is a game on an iPhone where you have to move your finger before the guillotine/saw falls onto it. 
14. It looks all happy and stuff, but it's really violent. It's also kind of scary listening to the music. And when your finger gets cut off it screams.
15. Well, the FNI just decided she doesn't like that game and wants to play Veggie Samurai instead. And I've just run out of bullet points.
~P. Megz OUT!!!

OH GOODNESS!! IT'S FRIDAY!!!!

So this one time I actually posted on time.  

YEAH! It actually happened.  Crazy, right?  

It's kinda ironic 'cause I was on time on a REALLY late challenge post.  

I picked the student/teacher one.  I'm not sure that this is quite what P Meggy the Marvelous was looking for, but I couldn't resist.  I just love Ethan and Shane too much.  They're like the two extremes of guys I like.  Shane, the ubernerd/soccer player/musician.  And then there's Ethan, helplessly clueless/sporty/adorable/athlete.  

I think I got a little bromantic in this one, but I didn't reach the level of like Frodo and Sam.  (Yes, Meg.  That LOTR reference was for you. :D)


In my mind, I've labeled their world my "HCO-verse."  It's all my stories about Ethan Caple and his nerdy counterpart Shane Branson.  Other stories from it are,  "Within Five Minutes" and "It Makes Way for Spring".

I think they're okay stories, but maybe it's because I wrote them....

CHALLENGECHALLENGECHALLENGECHALLENGECHALLENGECHALLENGECHALLENGECHALLENGECHALLENGECHALLENGECHALLENGECHALLENGECHALLENGECHALLENGECHALLENGECHALLENGECHALLENGECHALLENGECHALLENGECHALLENGECHALLENGECHALLENGECHALLENGECHALLENGECHALLENGECHALLENGECHALLENGECHALLENGECHALLENGECHALLENGECHALLENGECHALLENGECHALLENGECHALLENGE

Woah CHALLENGE BAR!!  What's with the interupting??  Oh, it's about the challenge for P Meggy?? The one due this coming Friday??  Oohh, okay.  Say that before you fly across my blog next time, okay??  Chill bud!!

P Meggy, your challenge is to write a story from two POV's.  One from someone who's moving and one from someone who wishes they would stay.  

A Jocund Goodbye from CatCooper<3  

Lessons Learned

Lessons Learned

Shane Branson shook his head at the sleeping body of his second-to-least favorite coworker at Hollister, his place of work, Ethan Caple.  As usual, Shane was working while Ethan lay out across the counter behind them, using a wadded up tshirt as a pillow. 

Ordinarily, Shane would not have been bothered by his coworker’s slumber, but today was no ordinary day.  Shane needed help, and that help would only come from Ethan. 

Shane, with a burst of mischievous inspiration, grabbed a water bottle and abandoned his post.  Once out of the store, he yelled, “Hey kid!!!”  Several twelve-year-old boys turned to face him.  Shane waved them over quickly. 

One spoke quickly and squeakily, “My mom says to stay away from strangers.”

Shane smothered a snicker.  “Yeah, when was the last time you did what your mom said?” 

The boy frowned and his friends started to walk away. 

“Wait!” Shane called.  “I’ll pay you ten bucks to pour this on the guy sleeping in there,” he said, gesturing to the water bottle. 

“Really?” Squeaky clarified. 

“Really.  And I’ll pay you five more to not tell him it was me.” 

“Deal.”  Squeaky grinned evilly. 

I really hope I haven’t encouraged some budding psychopath, Shane mused as he handed Squeaky the water bottle and his pay. 

Shane quickly turned to a display and started to neaten it.  He spun around at the sound of Ethan’s disgruntled, “ARG!!!!!!” 

“Get out of here!” Shane yelled, hiding his amusement.  He winked as Squeaky, clutching his fifteen dollars tightly, ran past him.  Shane walked quickly to the counter Ethan had lain on and picked up the near-empty bottle.  “Kids these days…” 

“Yeah, what was that?” Ethan asked in an indignant voice that made Shane feel almost guilty.  Then Ethan pulled his shirt off and grabbed one off the display Shane had just fixed.  He ripped off the tag quickly, somehow messing up the once-neat table even more. 

“You know that is called stealing, right?”  Shane frowned as Ethan put on the shirt. 

“Meh.  I’ll pay for it eventually.”  Ethan shrugged.  “Oh, wait this is a V-neck.”  Ethan took it off and threw it to Shane.  “You want this one?” 

Shane’s frowned deepened as Ethan snagged a crew-neck off a neighboring table, wrecking yet another table.  “Ethan, you’re two sizes larger than me.” 

“Yeah, but you like those v-necks, right?  Gabby says it’s ‘cause you’re like the world’s biggest hipster,” Ethan said, mentioning his girlfriend.  Both Ethan and Gabby were in the I-can’t-stop-talking-about-them-for-five-minutes-phase, which was bugging the crap out of Shane.  Although, he supposed, he and Ivy, the girl of his dreams, would enter that phase soon as well, at which point they would bother their friends to no end. 

Shane mumbled, “I’m not a hipster.”

“See, Gabby says that if you deny being a hipster, you are a hipster.”  No further explanation needed.  “Sooooo…  If you don’t need me anymore, I’m gonna go back to sleep.” 

That was his moment.  “Wait!” Shane exclaimed. 

“Woah, freak out a little there, huh kiddo?”  Another thing about Ethan that bothered his Calculus-loving counterpart to no end.  He insisted on calling Shane “kiddo” far too often.  Actually, ever using that moniker was “far too often.” 

“Yeah, sorry.”  He rubbed the back off his neck sheepishly.  “It’s just, I need your help.” 

“Hmm…  As long as it’s nothing, like, with school, sure I can help.”  Ethan shrugged.  Something about Ethan that Shane liked.  No “like” is too strong of a word.  But, anyways, he always seemed to be willing to assist someone.  Well, excluding helping Shane with work. 

“I uh…”  Shane’s face began to turn an interesting shade of pink. 

“You’re blushing!”  Ethan laughed.  “Come on, it can’t be that bad!  Just ask!” 

Shane gathered every speck of courage in his thin frame.  “I’m, uh, meeting Ivy’s parents tonight.”

“So you need help like, with first impressions?  Gabby’s parents love me! Sure, I can help.”  He grinned. 

“Well, it’s not exactly the first impression I’m worried about.  Just one aspect of it.” 

“Oh, wear blue.  Gabby says she thinks it says that you’re, like, a warm and caring person.” 

“No, it’s not that!” Shane said frustratedly. 

“What, then?”  Ethan asked. 

“Well, Ivy’s dad was a big football player in college.  He played at UCLA and everything.  Real manly guy.”

“Don’t worry.  I’m sure you’ll be fine.  What position did he play?” 

Shane rubbed the back of his neck again.  “Um…”

“Quarterback, halfback, lineman, kicker?”

“I don’t know…  I know basically nothing about football.” 

“Are you serious?!?”  Ethan stared incredulously.  “Nothing?” 

“Think about how much you know about Star Trek.” 

He nodded with understanding.  “Ah, so abso-fruitly nothing.” 

“Nothing,” Shane affirmed. 

“So, you like never watched games with your dad or anything?” 

Ethan’s question, as harmless as it was intended to be, hit Shane like a punch to the stomach.  Oblivious, the former continued. 

“That was like my whole childhood.  Me and Dad had matching jerseys, still do, even.  Me, Dad, and Vikings games was every Sunday in football season.  You never watched any games?”

“No,” Shane answered sharply.  Yet another annoying part of Ethan.  His seemingly perfect family with loving parents, a doting sister, and dog that went on three-mile runs with him.  All Shane got was a single mother and twelve cats.  He loved his mom, sure, but she had some serious issues.  Like the twelve felines that were constantly getting fur on everything in their house.  Shane was just thankful that Ivy was a cat person. 

“Oh, was your dad like a basketball kinda guy?  Baseball?  I mean, I guess golf is okay if that’s his thing.” 

“Look,” Shane snapped, “maybe we would’ve watched the Vikings or Horses or whoever if my father hadn’t left when I was two months old, but he did.  So I’m sorry I can’t quite comprehend this thing or all the rest of sports crap, but I didn’t have anyone around to force it on me.”

“Oh.”  Thankfully, his tirade had made Ethan realize he’d struck a nerve.  “Well, it’s never too late to learn, right?” he said with something like cheerfulness.  “I mean, look at me, one girlfriend, not three.  And I finished Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban,” Ethan stated proudly.  “It only took three months, even!” 

“Uh, maybe you can teach an old dog new tricks.”  Shane smiled weakly. 

“So what tricks does this dog need to learn?” Ethan asked with a large grin. 

“Just how to throw a football, I guess.” 

“Alright, no problemo, kiddo!”  Ethan pulled a football out from under the counter. 

“Do you bring one of those everywhere you go?” Shane queried with some amount of disbelief. 

“Do you bring a book everywhere you go?” Ethan shot back merrily. 

“Point taken.  So how do I do this?” 

He walked over to Shane, tossing the ball between his two hands.  “Alright, first thing is grip.  Not too firm, not too loose.  Just right is just right.”

“Okay, grip like Goldilocks.” 

“Pa-new-monic device?”  Ethan looked rather satisfied with his word usage. 

“Yeah, uh, pneumonic.  Helps me remember stuff.” 

“Cool.  Alright, now your gonna hold it so you make an ‘L’ shape with your thumb and first finger.”  He demonstrated before handing the ball to Shane, who took hold of it uneasily.

“Turn so your shoulders are, like, parallel to wherever you wanna throw.”  Shane moved accordingly, growing slightly more comfortable.  “This part’s kinda weird to explain. When I taught Gabby how to throw, she said it has, like, sin-tri-pedal force or something.”

“Oh, centripetal effort!  Okay.”  Shane grinned, at least slightly in his element. 

“Remember to move your weight to your front foot when you throw.  You wanna try?”  Before letting Shane answer, Ethan ran across the store, cluttering yet another table along the way.  He waited, ready to catch whatever Shane threw. 

Shane’s first attempt went about ten feet to left of Ethan, and the second, third, fourth, sixth, ninth, and fourteenth were even worse.  But, on his fifteenth try, the ball soared gloriously into Ethan’s open arms. 

“Yeah!”  Shane yelled.

“NOW THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKIN’ ABOUT!”  Ethan roared, scaring a few people outside the store.  “I knew you could do it, kiddo!” 

They continued to throw the football for another hour or so, chatting easily about school, life, TV, girlfriends, music, and everything else.  Ethan encouraged Shane and gave him tips on improving his throwing technique, and Shane explained some of the symbolism in Fahrenheit 451, which Ethan had a test in the next day. 

Shane glanced nervously at his watch after throwing to Ethan. 

“You can leave early, you know.  I can manage this place until Brad comes in at five,” Ethan said. 

Shane grimaced.  “You’re working with Brad tonight?  I’m sorry.  Really sorry.”

“Yeah, the guy’s such a meathead.  Even I have more of a brain than him.  But I can hold down the fort.  Get outta here kiddo.” 

“Thanks,” he said, truly grateful.  He grabbed his coat and began to head out the door, before Ethan stopped him. 

“Wait!”  Ethan called.  “You gotta slap the doorway when you leave.”  He ran over to the entrance and jumped, hitting the doorjamb.  “Like that.” 

“Why?” Shane asked, fairly puzzled. 

“It’s what us football players do.  You gotta do it too, know that you’re one of us.”  Ethan smiled. 

Shane nodded.  He sprinted, slapping the top of the door as he jumped through the entrance. 

“Go get ‘em tiger!!!” Shane heard Ethan yell.   

As Shane drove to Ivy’s house, he wasn’t thinking about how nervous he was or how afraid he was that he father would be turned off by his lack of ubermanliness.  Of course, those worries sat at the back of his mind, but, for the most part, he was mulling over his shift with Ethan.  As he thought about Ethan teaching him and understanding his lack of knowledge in terms of football, Shane came to the conclusion that Ethan wasn’t his second-to-least favorite coworker.  Not his favorite, but maybe close to it. 

Down to Business, Up in the Atmosphere

If I ever end up acquiring any amount of skill as a vocalist, this will be the title of my first album.   


Jus sayin.

Wow.

It's totally been since June that I posted.  

This is awkward.  

I do have an excuse.  I think it's a rather good one in all honesty.  


SUMMER WORK!!

Yeah, I had (for art) ten sketchbook pages, 20 photographs, and a final piece; (for english) two books, read and annotated; and (for Spanish) a book read, ten pages of questions pertaining to that book answered, 19 pages of grammar, ten quizzes, and three articles summarized.  

It took from the middle of June to last night to complete.  I haven't been procrastinating.  Too much.  I've just been busy.  

BUT NOW I'M BACK!!


I've had a little plot bunny named Fred as my best friend for a while, and it tears my heart into little tiny pieces that I haven't been able to put him down on paper. 

BUT NOW I CAN!!


Except that I have lots of homework, but he and I will work soon. 


I'm pretty excited about finishing up one of my old challenges, but I thought I would give you an early present.  


ANGSTY POETRY WITH CAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Here it is.  I wrote it in the middle of the night two weeks ago.  Enjoy.  Or not.  


"Thanks, I Guess"


I had hat hair after wearing your Hawk cap
I didn't care 'cause you liked me back
You were shorter than me and not the most moral
Why did that matter? You called me beautiful


I think about our time and it makes me wanna cry
I'm afraid to admit to me, but I know why
I'm sick of being desired only for what lies on my skin
At the time, I believed that you actually looked within


So you sat, with a box on your head
Later, we'd talk and you'd tell me to not to fret
You said you'd wait until the time was right
I wonder if you knew you were lying that night


And two years later I sit in the same imposition
Still needing to talk, still waiting for you to listen
I expect you're still where you were
Tricking and teasing, just a different girl


I wonder, do you ever feel when she cries
I bet you sit, a sociopath, and look her in the eyes
You tell her it was great, overall, a lot of fun
But you're over her now; it might as well be done


I used to wonder how you came to be so sadistic
Now I know you're just flat-out pathetic
But I know that if you hadn't used me and lied to me first
Other jerks would've done the same and it could've been worse


So thanks, I guess, in a kinda weird way
Thanks for the hurt, ache, hardship, and pain
Before you, I was doe-eyed, naive, innocent
It makes much more sense for me to be a cynic


A Jovial Goodbye from CatCooper<3


P.S. I was listening to "Dog Days Are Over" by Florence + the Machine while I typed this.  I heart that song.  


P.P.S. Next time....more music that doesn't suck!!

P.P.P.S. And some of it is legit hipster music....

P.P.P.P.S. And a certain legal show that has stricken my fancy....

P.P.P.P.P.S. Yes, be excited.  Very excited.