http://sites.google.com/site/slayerwulfe6ragnar0k/
A TRUE STORY KIND OF
My girl friend got a new book but theres nothing significant about that happening except in the following way.
She likes to communicate with me by written notes or this listen to what my eyes are saying because thats the way I like to mess with you thing. Theres a special place where I know to look for my notes and that is on her breakfast table. I refer to it as her table because I believe thats the way she feels about it.There are two chairs at this table and the one she never sits in is always piled full of books. This room is not very large about 8'x 15' with an entrance door at one end and a pantry door at the other. A large bay window centered on the outside wall and two archways on the interior to the kitchen. She tells me sometimes when I come into her room "Just dump those on the floor." but I don't think her eyes are saying the same thing as her mouth. She actually has some amazing talents such as reading several books at once and in stacking books into single columns as high as she can reach. The side of the table where her chair is that she uses for sitting also has stacks of books but more in the form of walls. They conform to the outline of her place mat so that when shes reading in there shes all cozy and hidden.
I go in to see if I have a note and thats when I see it a book right where my note should be. Its about an old joke. A panda walks into a bar has something to eat then shoots the waiter and walks out. The punch line is this Eats Shoots and Leaves. The whole thing is about punctuation and she knows how I feel about that. I just tell myself try to forget you ever saw it. Shes up to some of her evil tricks so I go looking for her.
Shes on the front porch reading her current front porch book. I cautiously say to her I'm going to make some potato salad would you like to have some. "What are you going to put in it." I'm going to use potatoes some eggs and I think I would also like some macaroni. "Macaroni in potato salad." Its possible I'm confused maybe I'm actually making macaroni salad with potatoes in it. "I don't like macaroni in potato salad." Then tell me what you would like to have in yours and I'll make it for you. "Come on lets go." You can stay here and read all you have to do is tell me what you want. "You don't know where anything is so I'll have to get it for you." Why are you always so kind to me when you don't have to be. "Because thats when you most deserve it."
I go into the kitchen to get started while also keeping watch on the items being set out for me to use. I go to receive my instructions,she put them all on her table and as shes telling me how much of each thing to use her hand carelessly falls to her book. I saw it I tell her. Now shes letting me see that grin the one that can only be described with the words AS IS which is what we say in business about anything that would be considered as perfectly alright, if it didn't have something horribly wrong with it.
How many potatoes do you want and also what size do I cut them to. "Seven and kind of small." I'm not familiar with that size. "About 3/8ths of an inch." As I'm washing the potatoes she asks "Do you want a peeler." Do you want them peeled sends a signal the result of which is a look I've not yet learned. She opens a drawer and sets things from it on the counter, I'm not sure why but I'm counting four five six seven.
" Try one of these." What do you mean try one. "Not all of them work." Then why are they in the drawer.
" You know." Your giving me credit for having a form of intelligence I'm incapable of even comprehending. Peeler number one I identify as worthless and number two which is next to worthless is also worthless.
" If none of these work I have more in another drawer." I believe you is the thought in my head but what I say is that number six seems to be okay.
I want to protest as I watch the other peelers being placed back in the drawer but this look from her that says " I know exactly how many of these I have." Plus the difficulty in trying to reach anyone that grasp the significant factors of a complex ideology such as "you know" is futile. I'll have to just let it go because right now I have a more serious problem.
In the time of my life that is known as my delusional period I was instructed by note of course to install a garbage disposal. As soon as that task had been completed further instructions with a mandate attached were issued that there is no such thing as garbage and not for any reason am I ever to use the no such thing as garbage unit for anything. I'm looking out the window while I'm trying to peel potatoes and what I'm seeing is an area known as garden,there are certainly things growing in this place,small and multi legged.
She sets out anything in this oasis of insect infestation thats even remotely organic. It's not as though theres a large mound of dirt thats remarkable in how much it resembles her, but I do think about that, especially when were not getting along very well, I think about it a lot.
Shes standing too close,watching,not what I'm doing but looking at me, with that grin. She reaches across picks up and places the plug in the sink, and slowly slides a deep tray towards me. The message is so clear," Those go in here." of course they do.
Why is she still looking at me, Oh how wonderful she has her book. "Listen." Shes going to read to me while I'm working, just lovely. "On her hand she had five nails.Five nails on her hand had she." I've heard enough, I'm going to my quiet place,where no amount of money can buy you any time in heaven, I have this moment for free,till this voice destroys it. "Well what do you think." What do I think about what. "About these two stories." Stories! your being too kind to them. Wait right here, I'll be back in 20 sec. with my answer. I go down into the basement, get a shiny new nail and return. I have five of these on each hand, ahh don't interrupt, all you have to do is say fingernails,explain yourself properly and punctuation isn't needed. I have told you previous to this, punctuation is nothing more than a crutch people use to prop up their incoherent thoughts, that are more crippled than Bob Cratchit's tiny Tim. Admit it you know that was good, no punctuation needed there.
Her gaze is so penetrating and intense, it's almost like hearing my own thoughts. " You always do this, why can't you ever just agree with me, just for once agree with me." This is eerie but also kind of interesting. I'm going to try and send a message. Why can't you ever be right about anything. I don't think I'm getting through to her. She retreats back to her burrow, examining all the information, as though with some urgent need to destroy me. Maybe now I'll be able to work without any interruption. Two to go, I glance over at her table, I can barely see her over the wall of her personal recreation of 'NEUSCHWANSTEIN' uh oh, she spotted me. The grin is more of ,beyond description than ever, her she comes.
"O.K. Listen to this one." It's a letter from a girl to a guy, John. What shes saying sounds like he's the greatest thing thats ever existed. In the second with punctuation, he's less than worthless. I say to her I'll admit there is a difference, but what I don't understand, if a girl doesn't like a guy why go on and on about how much you hate him. She should go and find someone to be with, get on with her life. "Maybe shes just really, really mad at him." Maybe shes just cruel and vindictive. I think John's lucky to be rid of her. Wait a second, is this a real letter. "No I don't think--no of course not." Exactly, it's manufactured for this book, manipulated, your being manipulated.
I hold my hand out a little, shoulder high, gently rocking it back and forth, dance for me little puppet, dance. Stomp, Stomp, Stomp, Stomp. Through the kitchen through the dining room up the stairs. I wait till shes about halfway, and I call to her, thats not dancing thats stomping. "Stomp, stomp, stomp, with both feet on one step." Up the rest of the way, down fifty feet of hall, SLAM. Shes in the upstairs parlor as far away from me as she can get, it's like shes in my mind, "Leave Me Alone." Thats what I was trying to do from the very beginning.
I'm finally ready to cut these things up but I don't have any idea where the knives are.There was a set here,they were a gift, in a very nice wood case. I can never find anything, she is constantly rearranging and also hiding things to protect them from becoming lost. Theres a collection of what has to be at least fifty knives in one of the drawers, it looks like the same deal as the peelers. I don't have any other choice except to ask her, I make a lot of noise so she knows I'm there.
I enter the room, shes sitting with her back to me pretending shes reading. Maybe I can sell her a story. I was trying to slice the potatoes for you but none of the knives cut straight. I was hoping to do this perfectly for you
so that all the pieces will be the same size, and cook evenly, are there any knives sharp enough to do this. Shes not buying it, she snaps back at me real fast. "The knives are in the knife thing under the thing."
Before my brain has had time to inform me that what it just heard cannot be translated into anything intelligible, the little voice in my head is already saying. "Don't Do It" I try to reason with it. This is so perfect I couldn't have planned this any better, It's like a gift from the GODS it would be an insult not to use it. The voice persist, "Your just going to hurt her feelings." "The only thing she was trying to do is have a very long conversation with you about something she knows you don't ever want to hear about." "Don't be a jerk."
I exhale a sigh, a little too vocal, Naturally she interprets it. "He knows he made me mad, and now he's going to apologize." Of course I am,what else would I do. I'm a few feet behind her and a little to the right, I lean forward slightly and say softly.
Would you please punctuate that for me so I can understand it.
A small hole appears, at about the center of the page shes looking at. Slowly expanding, glowing slightly around the edge. She slams the book shut to extinguish it. I have to stay, if I leave now she'll never forgive me. Shes trying to come up with something but her brains not working right now. The longer I have to wait the worse it is for her, she'll probably have to use one of those girl things like, "If you don't know, I'm not going to tell you." She tried that one once, I asked be patient please I want to try and understand this, are you saying that if I did know you would tell me. "Yehsssss." I'm lucky I don't know, now I don't have to listen to it.
It was a dark and stormy night, before the coldest of all winters.
I think shes got something shes looking at me, I hope its good I feel like playing. The eyes are telling me its going to be the voice a little deeper than usual each word slow and precise, where it sounds like I'm something that lives under something. " Do you want me to get the knife, For you." Even though it wasn't said
I think little boy or idiot was implied with the last two. I'll have to give her something she can use against me,and that last word thing. I don't believe I would be very comfortable, to see you holding a knife right now.
" Thats right! you wouldn't."
Now I can leave, I still don't know where the good knives are, but I'm already thinking about something else.
A raccoon comes by here,and I leave food on the front porch for it,but it doesn't come every night. Last night I was just about to take its food out, and there she is coming down the front stairs,she stops halfway down, just looking at me. She must have been waiting, " You left food out last night, and when I looked out in the morning, the blue jays were having a big time with it." No matter what I'm doing she has to say something.
I'm going to start leaving her notes. You left food out all night in the bird feeder,and when I looked out in the morning, the blue jays were having a big time with it.
Will it never end. slayerwulfe cave
I know the little witch has got you watching me. Talk? Can you say ROUND UP creepy plant.
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A TRUE STORY KIND OF
My girl friend got a new book but theres nothing significant about that happening except in the following way.
She likes to communicate with me by written notes or this listen to what my eyes are saying because thats the way I like to mess with you thing. Theres a special place where I know to look for my notes and that is on her breakfast table. I refer to it as her table because I believe thats the way she feels about it.There are two chairs at this table and the one she never sits in is always piled full of books. This room is not very large about 8'x 15' with an entrance door at one end and a pantry door at the other. A large bay window centered on the outside wall and two archways on the interior to the kitchen. She tells me sometimes when I come into her room "Just dump those on the floor." but I don't think her eyes are saying the same thing as her mouth. She actually has some amazing talents such as reading several books at once and in stacking books into single columns as high as she can reach. The side of the table where her chair is that she uses for sitting also has stacks of books but more in the form of walls. They conform to the outline of her place mat so that when shes reading in there shes all cozy and hidden.
I go in to see if I have a note and thats when I see it a book right where my note should be. Its about an old joke. A panda walks into a bar has something to eat then shoots the waiter and walks out. The punch line is this Eats Shoots and Leaves. The whole thing is about punctuation and she knows how I feel about that. I just tell myself try to forget you ever saw it. Shes up to some of her evil tricks so I go looking for her.
Shes on the front porch reading her current front porch book. I cautiously say to her I'm going to make some potato salad would you like to have some. "What are you going to put in it." I'm going to use potatoes some eggs and I think I would also like some macaroni. "Macaroni in potato salad." Its possible I'm confused maybe I'm actually making macaroni salad with potatoes in it. "I don't like macaroni in potato salad." Then tell me what you would like to have in yours and I'll make it for you. "Come on lets go." You can stay here and read all you have to do is tell me what you want. "You don't know where anything is so I'll have to get it for you." Why are you always so kind to me when you don't have to be. "Because thats when you most deserve it."
I go into the kitchen to get started while also keeping watch on the items being set out for me to use. I go to receive my instructions,she put them all on her table and as shes telling me how much of each thing to use her hand carelessly falls to her book. I saw it I tell her. Now shes letting me see that grin the one that can only be described with the words AS IS which is what we say in business about anything that would be considered as perfectly alright, if it didn't have something horribly wrong with it.
How many potatoes do you want and also what size do I cut them to. "Seven and kind of small." I'm not familiar with that size. "About 3/8ths of an inch." As I'm washing the potatoes she asks "Do you want a peeler." Do you want them peeled sends a signal the result of which is a look I've not yet learned. She opens a drawer and sets things from it on the counter, I'm not sure why but I'm counting four five six seven.
" Try one of these." What do you mean try one. "Not all of them work." Then why are they in the drawer.
" You know." Your giving me credit for having a form of intelligence I'm incapable of even comprehending. Peeler number one I identify as worthless and number two which is next to worthless is also worthless.
" If none of these work I have more in another drawer." I believe you is the thought in my head but what I say is that number six seems to be okay.
I want to protest as I watch the other peelers being placed back in the drawer but this look from her that says " I know exactly how many of these I have." Plus the difficulty in trying to reach anyone that grasp the significant factors of a complex ideology such as "you know" is futile. I'll have to just let it go because right now I have a more serious problem.
In the time of my life that is known as my delusional period I was instructed by note of course to install a garbage disposal. As soon as that task had been completed further instructions with a mandate attached were issued that there is no such thing as garbage and not for any reason am I ever to use the no such thing as garbage unit for anything. I'm looking out the window while I'm trying to peel potatoes and what I'm seeing is an area known as garden,there are certainly things growing in this place,small and multi legged.
She sets out anything in this oasis of insect infestation thats even remotely organic. It's not as though theres a large mound of dirt thats remarkable in how much it resembles her, but I do think about that, especially when were not getting along very well, I think about it a lot.
Shes standing too close,watching,not what I'm doing but looking at me, with that grin. She reaches across picks up and places the plug in the sink, and slowly slides a deep tray towards me. The message is so clear," Those go in here." of course they do.
Why is she still looking at me, Oh how wonderful she has her book. "Listen." Shes going to read to me while I'm working, just lovely. "On her hand she had five nails.Five nails on her hand had she." I've heard enough, I'm going to my quiet place,where no amount of money can buy you any time in heaven, I have this moment for free,till this voice destroys it. "Well what do you think." What do I think about what. "About these two stories." Stories! your being too kind to them. Wait right here, I'll be back in 20 sec. with my answer. I go down into the basement, get a shiny new nail and return. I have five of these on each hand, ahh don't interrupt, all you have to do is say fingernails,explain yourself properly and punctuation isn't needed. I have told you previous to this, punctuation is nothing more than a crutch people use to prop up their incoherent thoughts, that are more crippled than Bob Cratchit's tiny Tim. Admit it you know that was good, no punctuation needed there.
Her gaze is so penetrating and intense, it's almost like hearing my own thoughts. " You always do this, why can't you ever just agree with me, just for once agree with me." This is eerie but also kind of interesting. I'm going to try and send a message. Why can't you ever be right about anything. I don't think I'm getting through to her. She retreats back to her burrow, examining all the information, as though with some urgent need to destroy me. Maybe now I'll be able to work without any interruption. Two to go, I glance over at her table, I can barely see her over the wall of her personal recreation of 'NEUSCHWANSTEIN' uh oh, she spotted me. The grin is more of ,beyond description than ever, her she comes.
"O.K. Listen to this one." It's a letter from a girl to a guy, John. What shes saying sounds like he's the greatest thing thats ever existed. In the second with punctuation, he's less than worthless. I say to her I'll admit there is a difference, but what I don't understand, if a girl doesn't like a guy why go on and on about how much you hate him. She should go and find someone to be with, get on with her life. "Maybe shes just really, really mad at him." Maybe shes just cruel and vindictive. I think John's lucky to be rid of her. Wait a second, is this a real letter. "No I don't think--no of course not." Exactly, it's manufactured for this book, manipulated, your being manipulated.
I hold my hand out a little, shoulder high, gently rocking it back and forth, dance for me little puppet, dance. Stomp, Stomp, Stomp, Stomp. Through the kitchen through the dining room up the stairs. I wait till shes about halfway, and I call to her, thats not dancing thats stomping. "Stomp, stomp, stomp, with both feet on one step." Up the rest of the way, down fifty feet of hall, SLAM. Shes in the upstairs parlor as far away from me as she can get, it's like shes in my mind, "Leave Me Alone." Thats what I was trying to do from the very beginning.
I'm finally ready to cut these things up but I don't have any idea where the knives are.There was a set here,they were a gift, in a very nice wood case. I can never find anything, she is constantly rearranging and also hiding things to protect them from becoming lost. Theres a collection of what has to be at least fifty knives in one of the drawers, it looks like the same deal as the peelers. I don't have any other choice except to ask her, I make a lot of noise so she knows I'm there.
I enter the room, shes sitting with her back to me pretending shes reading. Maybe I can sell her a story. I was trying to slice the potatoes for you but none of the knives cut straight. I was hoping to do this perfectly for you
so that all the pieces will be the same size, and cook evenly, are there any knives sharp enough to do this. Shes not buying it, she snaps back at me real fast. "The knives are in the knife thing under the thing."
Before my brain has had time to inform me that what it just heard cannot be translated into anything intelligible, the little voice in my head is already saying. "Don't Do It" I try to reason with it. This is so perfect I couldn't have planned this any better, It's like a gift from the GODS it would be an insult not to use it. The voice persist, "Your just going to hurt her feelings." "The only thing she was trying to do is have a very long conversation with you about something she knows you don't ever want to hear about." "Don't be a jerk."
I exhale a sigh, a little too vocal, Naturally she interprets it. "He knows he made me mad, and now he's going to apologize." Of course I am,what else would I do. I'm a few feet behind her and a little to the right, I lean forward slightly and say softly.
Would you please punctuate that for me so I can understand it.
A small hole appears, at about the center of the page shes looking at. Slowly expanding, glowing slightly around the edge. She slams the book shut to extinguish it. I have to stay, if I leave now she'll never forgive me. Shes trying to come up with something but her brains not working right now. The longer I have to wait the worse it is for her, she'll probably have to use one of those girl things like, "If you don't know, I'm not going to tell you." She tried that one once, I asked be patient please I want to try and understand this, are you saying that if I did know you would tell me. "Yehsssss." I'm lucky I don't know, now I don't have to listen to it.
It was a dark and stormy night, before the coldest of all winters.
I think shes got something shes looking at me, I hope its good I feel like playing. The eyes are telling me its going to be the voice a little deeper than usual each word slow and precise, where it sounds like I'm something that lives under something. " Do you want me to get the knife, For you." Even though it wasn't said
I think little boy or idiot was implied with the last two. I'll have to give her something she can use against me,and that last word thing. I don't believe I would be very comfortable, to see you holding a knife right now.
" Thats right! you wouldn't."
Now I can leave, I still don't know where the good knives are, but I'm already thinking about something else.
A raccoon comes by here,and I leave food on the front porch for it,but it doesn't come every night. Last night I was just about to take its food out, and there she is coming down the front stairs,she stops halfway down, just looking at me. She must have been waiting, " You left food out last night, and when I looked out in the morning, the blue jays were having a big time with it." No matter what I'm doing she has to say something.
I'm going to start leaving her notes. You left food out all night in the bird feeder,and when I looked out in the morning, the blue jays were having a big time with it.
Will it never end. slayerwulfe cave
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