An Open Book

Finding a book that is open is like permission to read the book. Lets say you go into your sisters room while your growing up. Why are you there? I don’t know. Does it matter? Maybe you were just throwing her sweatshirt into her room because your mother asked you to. It doesn’t really matter really. What matters is that you are there, in your sister’s room, and you see an open book on her desk. Not just any book, but her diary. Something that a little brother should never find. The brother-sister code, no, it demands, that you read the diary. You may start with the open page and then start flipping through. Finding all of the juiciest details about all the boys that she likes, girls that she hates, and her true loathing of her little brat of a brother. A wealth of information is laid out before you and it is your purpose in life to use and abuse the information that is discovered.

That is how Frank felt when he stumbled across the open day planner in his office cafeteria. Page after page of names, dates, phone numbers, and appointments laid out before him. Frank looked around the empty cafeteria. No one was in sight. No one that could own the day planner. Frank paged through the day planner but nothing jumped out at him, not even any contact information for the day planner owner. He flipped it shut and went to work on his laptop while nibbling a vending machine egg-salad sandwich. He was thinking that someone would stop by. Someone would miss the day planner and come looking for it. But no one came and the day planner sat there. It sat there and mocked him. “Open me,” it said, “read me.” After what felt like days the day planner won and Frank picked it up and started reading.

Knock Knock

Consciousness gripped me out of the realm of the dead when a loud banging emanated from my door. My eyelids were narrow slits, protecting my eyes from the afternoon sun that illuminated my apartment. I buried my head under a couch cushion hoping the tormenting demon would leave me alone. But alas, the banging at the door would not stop.

“What do you want?” I shouted from the refuge of the afghan blanket that covered me.

The banging continued.

I rolled my eyes as I buried my head deeper behind the couch cushion. “What do you want?!” I shouted even louder than the last time.

The banging continued.

Slowly I dragged myself from the couch. Beer bottles fell in my wake as I advanced towards the door. I had to watch my step to ensure I didn’t fall on one of the displaced bottles. My hand reached for the door, undoing the deadbolt and locking chain, before yanking the door open.

The knocking ended instantly.

“Excuse me sir,” the little girl mumbled. She was obviously startled by the door opening so suddenly. “Could you please turn down your TV? I’m trying to do my homework and it is so distracting.”

“Um, sure…”

I slammed the door in her face, switched the TV off, and dragged myself back to the couch. Sleep had once again become my refuge.

Random Bar Haiku

I am a poet
I bet you’ll never know it
I’ll rhyme every time

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Whiskey is my friend
I would drink it all day long
And into the night

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I like my Jack cold
Do not serve it to me warm
Best it is with coke

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Silently snow falls
Field is peacefully silent
A good day to live

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Beautiful woman
Sits across the bar from me
We will never speak

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I enjoy drinking
Jack and coke is so yummy
I can drink all night

Peaceful

Belly warm, eyes heavy
Minutes tick off at a slow beat
It had been a long week
A long life
I just want to curl up into a ball
And sleep away my life
Things would be much simpler
No decisions
No work
No effort
Life would be peaceful

Ecotone

I see the world in shades of green. Everything from what mileage my car gets to how the university can reduce the emissions at the coal electricity plant. I even marched in a picket line for that one. You should have seen it, it was pouring rain nonstop for the entire time I was out there. The wet cardboard in my sign drooped as I was soaked to the bone. I was as sick as a dog the next day, but you know what? It was worth it. I just have to smile to myself whenever I think about it because deep down I know that I had an impact. Because of me the university changed their way of doing things. The world is a better place because of me.

Green is my Ecotone, what’s yours?

Get Out Of My Way

Don’t you hate it when all the cars in front of you are going the speed limit? Or even worse, under it? It makes me grate my teeth in anger. I just want to lay on my horn and blast right past them while flicking them off. Some how I do control my rage. Usually by chanting to myself, “It’s a limit not a minimum, it’s a limit not a minimum, it’s a limit not a minimum…

Scene: Bar/Dance Club

This is a little something I wrote on the back of a beer label last night when I was gallivanting around to downtown bars with friends.

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Red flows from the table tops as incense drifts, filling the area from ceiling to floor. Shouts of conversation can be heard over the thump of the bass. The table tips when leaned upon, shifting the liquid in my glass. On the dance floor women writhe and grind on each other while men stand around the perimeter drinking their beers. Glass bottles and cups line the ledge around the room with varying levels of liquid residing in the bottom of each container.

In A Nut Shell

Here we are
Just the two of us
Cramped in our apartment
That was built for two
One would think we would be used to it
Since we are twins and all
But these confines are tight
Even for two that had shared a womb
You have become salty as we aged
Actually, we had both changed
Which is why I can no longer do this
This living with you
Always soaked in beer
You wallow in your depression
Until properly roasted
I can’t deal with it anymore
I can’t deal with you
Soon I will break out of this shell
That we have been put in
And do something fun
For me
Like join the circus

Penumbral Gambit - Episode 1: Of Blasters and Credsticks

Disclaimer: Penumbral Gambit is a work of fan fiction set in the Star Wars universe. Several locations, items, and concepts belong to George Lucas and Lucasfilm Ltd. The picture is a combination of an image from Sergio Leone’s “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly” and an image from Wizards of the Coast’s Star Wars Saga Edition role playing game book. This story and image is purely meant for entertainment. No copyright infringement is intended.

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I'm Dubja Buport, Gungan gunslinger and bounty hunter.

I grew up hearing about the Great Gungan Army and how it was formed. When I became of age I joined the army. I received my first training in the army. The Nabooian humans used Gungans as scouts and guards. Over time I realized how the Nabooians treated us Gungans, like pathetic savages. The more I hated how they looked down upon us the more I realized how right they were. The human army outfitted itself with guns and tanks while we used nothing more than clubs. Sure, we had energy shields and energy balls, but those weren’t enough. You can only protect yourself for so long. You need to strike out to beat back your opponent. Energy balls are only good against droids and machines. They are not good against a man. Not like a blaster. A well aimed blaster will drop a man in his tracks. As soon as I could I left the army in disgust and jumped system.

The cargo ship I hitched a ride on was headed to Malastare, the planet was on the Hydian Way trade route. I used my savings to purchase my first blaster, a Sporting Blaster Pistol. It was the best I could get and still be able to get a license for. While I was at the Galactic Republic outpost on Malastar I met up with the Hydian Way Bounty Hunter's Guild. Even in the high gravity the bounty hunters saw that I had a real skill with my blaster pistol. The Hydian Way Bounty Hunter's Guild worked to keep the Hydian Way trade route free from space pirates and other thieves. Most of their bounties came from large companies that needed to keep their freight safe. The bounty hunters were on their way to stop a space pirate and needed an extra gun so I joined up.

I kept working with the Hydian Way Bounty Hunter’s Guild for a few years. I learned everything there is to know about being a hunter and quickly moved up the ranks. It wasn’t long before I was taking down bounties on my own. Most companies pay for transport on one of their freighters, for me and my speeder bike, if I’m targeting a bounty for them so there is no need for me to have my own starship or know how to pilot one. Once I’m in the right area it’s just a matter of asking around and letting my blaster do the talking once I find the target. The perks of working for the guild include never having to set foot back into the savage wilderness. Starships can get quite cold, so I’m never seen without my all temperature cloak/poncho. It also works to keep my weapons out of sight whenever I’m in a civilized area.

My quick rise though the guild and results in the field must have caught the eye of one of my usual employers. There is no doubt in my mind that a corporate representative for some company passed my name along. Once I got the offer to join a bounty hunting group that worked exclusively for the Grand Chancellor I had to take it. I was starting to get restless with the usual scum that I have to pick up along the Hydian Way trade route. It’s time for bigger and better bounties.

Torrential Rains

There comes a time...
Like torrential rains that
Flood basements leaving
Algae and musty molds behind
And stink overhead while outside
A car is stuck mid-water
As signs are down and out,
Sandbags work fine but rushing
Water from torrential rains
Will always find a way through
Sandbags, objections and denials alike.

Abomination

Shelter the bomb
(Blasts from twin-bombs located
across a courtyard from each other
went off sending fragments with force and
shrapnel with disobedience meshing bone with
metal and death with life as one more...)
and the bomb doesn't give need to
having to build more shelters
from the bomb.

Lots

Erratic glare ice
Conglomerated slowly with
Falling wintrily snow in
Parking lots incorporated with
Lines that are covered so
It's not so concrete
On where to park
The sky keeps sagging
Integrating stacks and more,
Consuming the banality
Of another brightly lit sign

I Need a Drink

She poured me a cup of hot java as I poured through the files that she had brought with her. Somehow she had gotten her hands on expense accounts and meeting notes from several large companies. The coffee cooled as I poured over every detail, letting it seep into my battered brain. After reading through every scrap of paper twice I finally looked up with a sigh.

“This is huge. Where did you get your mitts on this?”

“A girl’s gotta have a few secrets. You know what this means, right?”

I looked down at my cold cup of coffee. “Yeah, I need a drink.” It was time to get some work done.

A Life of Into and Out of

Into and out of is really what it is all about, placing things into, and taking things out of, containers or their special places. Life itself begins when the penis enters the vagina, and consequently a sperm cell enters the female's egg. The fetus is housed in the uterus, until it makes its exit 9 months painfully later. To maintain this life, food must be placed into the mouth, after taking it out of its wrapper or container and involuntary biological mechanisms digest and then push the food out minus the nutrients plus the stink into the toilet and out the ass. You get into bed, you get of bed, and then maybe into the shower. Why is it we are so quick to get into our clothes when done? We want to get out of our skins. Out the door now and into your car where you take a CD out and put another CD in. You pull into your parking spot, and get out of your car and go into work where you go into your office and get into and out of your chair whilst taking pencils from pencil holders and files from file cabinets and coffee from coffee pots. You go home and put more food into your mouth and get out of your clothes and into your pajamas and bed. You fall into sleep and out of reality. Tomorrow you start over, much the same, and the next day too. This until before you know it the shuffling and sorting stops and they put you six feet under into the cold carnivorous earth. This, of course, a no-brainer, your coffin, is your final container.

Pay

When you get out of bed
In the morning or any other time,
You have to pay for it
It is not of choosing, get up
Get out and get something
You're in for the long haul
Someday, you'll have to die
Sometimes, like rain, you'll cry-
When you get out of bed
You have to pay for it