Pure Awsome

Unlike many of my stories this one does not begin in the middle. Instead, I am venturing into new territory by starting at the beginning of all relevant information. Dawn shot fissures of light across the sky as the hills became outlines backed by the pure white of a new day’s sun. Sadly the glory of all existence was of little concern; instead, my focus was devoted to the mission at hand. Names are not important but I often go by Tiffy, call me that if you must. Some of you may know my line of work, but if not, you don’t need to, let’s just say I work in “shipping” and leave it at that. I received my new contract on the midnight of a sleepless day just hours previous, and it was no picnic. I could have been a banker…. We are who we choose to be and I am what I’ve chosen to be, so enough with regrets. Packing up supplies I would need I suited up and revved up my bike. Its growl was nearly as ominous as the morning silence that it was disturbing. This contract was leagues above the demeaning jobs that had been my life’s bread for the past few months “hope I’m not out of practice” I thought as the road below me melted into flowing lines surrounded by a broken reality. I could feel my trusty companion clipped onto my belt pressed in by heavy riding gear that would serve another purpose closer to the job. Three hours of riding gives you way too much time to think. Three hours of riding also seems all too short when riding into danger. And like the flit of a hummingbird’s wings the time had passed and I was at the target facility…. Wal-Mart. After strapping my helmet to my bike I figured that I had about 2 minutes before their security teams would move on the images fed to them by the innumerable electronic eyes peering in all directions from their contemptible facility. Keeping that in mind I acted on my first instinct and walked right through the front door. A greeter class blue vest met me just inside offering to brand me with their round yellow hellmark. I refused firmly but kindly, no need to draw suspicion this early. This contract was not the standard decimation as is commonly requested. This was the tactical capture of a high ranking facility official. My employers wanted to study the creature in a hope to learn more about their enemy. I knew I was looking for a buttoned blue vest, the tell tale mark of a first class “May-ni-gari” warrior. They had caused me troubles before, often removing me from their facilities upon suspicion before my mission could be completed; now it was my job to remove one of them. The broken corridors of supplies often bend the minds of civilians lost in their endless rows, but I knew all too well what must be done. I had to cause a commotion to draw out the high warrior. I headed to the CD section and covertly pulled out my mini pricing gun. I changed the price of Shakira’s new CD Karaoke Canta Como from $19.95 to $19.94; it’s a small change, but enough. Moving swiftly around an old lady peering blankly into a videogame display, I approached the small checkout counter local to this area. The blue vested harpy piped up, “May I help you?” in her sonorous tones. “You could help me by DIEING FOWL SPAWN OF LUCIFER!” I wanted to scream with all my heart, but I held back, there would be a time for that. Tactfully I replied “just the CD, thanks.” Oh how it hurt. As she rang it up I knew my plan was working when the display read “crappy CD - $19.95” one cent too much! She asked how I would be paying. I did not want to risk an outburst so I simply handed her a twenty dollar bill. As she handed me a nickel of change I sprang into action by screaming “WHAT THE BLOODY F***ING HELL YOU B****!”at the top of my lungs while flailing about. He shock was evident as she blankly stared at me holding the nickel. “IT SAYS $19.94 WHERE’S MY PENNY?” I shouted while frantically ripping things from their colorful displays and urinating on a stack of unsold PS3s. She was still not getting the message so I lunged across the counter, just as I had been trained, and landed a right hook to her ovaries. Now I had her attention “ARE YOU FUCKING INSAINGN?” she shouted at me as she grabbed her radio and called for a manager. Success! Too keep up appearances I continued to flail about and urinate on various things until the manager showed up. He chose diplomacy instead of beginning combat right out “excuse me sir, is there a problem?” I wouldn’t make the same mistake. I threw a hand full of iPod shuffles at him to draw his attention and then closed in to end the mission. My special training flashed through my mind and I knew how to end this quickly. After five swift punt kick to his groin he was down, and to think these are their greatest warriors…. I slung him over my shoulder after giving the harpy one last punch to the ovaries. Time was limited, the black eyes that dotted the sky in this facility did not miss much. The front of the door was sight before any sign of “secu-tari” warriors could be seen. I blew the water bottles filled with gelled explosives I had left by the door. Not a single Secu-tari was ready for such swift action, neither where any standing after the blast, while I was protected by my heavy jacket. Sprinting over the rubble and towards my bike I slung the hapless manage over the back. He was by now regaining consciousness and railing about some one being “F***ING INSAIGN” but I knew this was simply code to call forth more re-enforcements. To put him out I punched him in the groin a few more times. I dropped on my helmet, flicked the key and my bike burst to life. Once out of the parking lot I went to a near by national forest and tied the manager naked to a tree 3 miles in. My superiors would pick him up in a day or two. Back to the safe house, mission accomplished.

This was yet another successful mission, but do not get over confident, the threat is still out there and all too real. Pleas join me by doing all you can.

- Tiffy the hunter

man, I've been away for quite some time now, and finals are just around the corner. so, I bring to you stories, poems and general good will! First the story!

Intimidating, not a word that I usually think describes me, but apparently other's think it does. Yet another boring day is scraping its second long tendrils into the edges of my brain as the moments ticked passed. The level of conversation was higher than normal and for some reason the teacher was out of the room, the conversation turned to home schoolers (though none of them knew my own, home school, origins) and how they are less than human. Slowly, the jocular conversation turned on Joe, a 16yr old home schooler that always seems a little timid. Joe was receiving a few verbal pokes and prods that where getting to be less and less "in good fun" so I decided to pipe up and throw my opinion out there. I spoke above the general din: "woh woh now, before you continue bashing HS'ers I want you all to know that I'm a home schooler and proud of it, you mess with Joe and you're messing with me." As that, the conversation ended and moved on. after class a girl that has a crush on me, approached and said "that was really cool, I've never seen an English class so freaked out, you where oddly intimidating" intimidating, now that I think about it, I suppose I am. The thoughtful 6"2' bearded motorcycle rider with a black scarf on, intimidating. huzzah for yet another adjective I can tack onto my name!

- Tiffy the Intimidationist.

Poetryz!

Happy insane
peace and release in pain.
the happy insane.
the source and the end.
of what we defend.
with our lives and our minds.
what we can find.
makes us blind.
and un-winds
our resolve
and dissolves
our peace and release in our infernal pain.
these are the words of the happy insane.

Circle of love
Peace and release in pain.
Pain and restraint insane.
Thought and mind inane.
Heart and soul inflame.
Glory and honor proclame.
Sight and touch distane.
Careing and true love fain.
tears and sad love rain.
Peace and release in pain.

The Jumper
hey look down, can you see it?
do you know how it sounds?
you're just seconds away from the Cerberus hounds
have you ever been up here?
you can see round for miles.
you're just seconds away from the end of these trials.
that is your life, many stories below
slowly, so slowly, will the red trickles flow.
you're just seconds away from what haides can show.
seeing the sky, with a few streaks of white.
wretching and coughing, simply breathing takes might.
you're just seconds away from the deep lake of blight.
eyes drink you in as you put on your show.
they all want to know you, in a pool of your glow.
you're just seconds away from from where all men must go.
but then comes the fear, like a coward you cry.
your moment of glory is the second you die.
you're just seconds away from the answer to "why?"

Streamers
Wading through the streamers of vanity fair, happiness lost in the name of pleasure.
streams of time lead to pools of memories, yours are muddied with the stirrings of pennie.
make a wish for her with her, discarding her away with the hope that she will return.
Vanity taken for Vanities', pennies thrown for pennies, happiness lost for rotten pleasure.
keep your pennies in your pockets with your lockets and your soul.
Leave your streamers in your city with your pity and your tole.
pay the price for living with the span of your toil.
life long forgotten and you have a new roll.
"STOP!" cries the widow with the platinum ring.
still with the tender, but lacking in grace.
she has 4 score and 7 deeply etched on her face.
But slow to down I can't, I must march ever on.
very merry moments always potent, fortunent that you are spent.
time lent must return and in urning burn without light or warmth.
stop my friends.
simply listen.
(this was a diversion from my style of poetry, but i fell asleep at my computer and when I woke up it was on my screen. it may not have a standard meeter, but for some reason it seems interesting to me.)

Till my next submission - Tiffy

Hark my friends and listen well to the day I slipped down from heaven to dark depths of hell.
when the darkness closed in all the holes in the sky, my mind moved my heart to the day I would die.
But my heart moved my mind to the day he would cry for the pain, for the drain, for the gripping distane of small shinny prick that had cut down his dreams, amidst the thrashing, the cries and his last mortal screams.
I am not evil, nor a wraith neither one, I cut not for pay or the will of another.
what can I say? He was my brother, he was my friend, he was kind, and my chum.
but because of that day, my will would not bend, through the words of the blind, his own fate would him find.
not a sound, not a crack, not a slice or a smack.
no noise could I make as his soul left the earth.
my voice kept it's quiet as my mortal soul cried, my voice kept it's quiet as my bleeding friend died.
yes, I was quiet though my heart was now pounding.
that's not speaking for him, for his cries where resounding, where astounding, quite confounding.
he was quiet quite soon as the skies took his mind, his heart stopped it's flutter and his eyes darkened blind.
A life years in making with a story ahead.
A life pushed to breaking by the morality shed.
I wished for the death I had easily given, seeing no purpose to continue my living.
Lucifer came and he patted my back, congratulating me for rejoining his track.
hell come and take me from the death of my life.
heaven come break me for the sins of my knife.
Blood never leaves once it's entered your thoughts, tiny blots, tiny spots, tiny stains, a life of dieing, a life of pain.
and with that did I fall through the cracks of the earth.
chains and darkness, pains and death, salt for water sulfur for breath.
hell was all I expected from the faith I rejected and in every wall of my prison falling blood was reflected.
after second or years, thousand pains, million tears.
I looked to the sky where my friend's face was setting.
peaceful and happy only regretting the mistake I had made, for which in pain the price would be paid. but he called down to me it's ok for you see. "I had Reeses for breakfast!"
"what?" I said, "you can't have candy for breakfast!"
"not candy," he replied, "Resses peanut butter puffs cereal! it's like candy, for breakfast!"
so we both had a bowl and went to school.

Resses Puffs Cereal. it's like candy, FOR BREAKFAST!

I'd say that's a pretty accurate test.

Ok, so I was board, I had a lot of free time, and just finished an English class. That is not a good combination (good for you, not good for the English language) no matter how you look at it. The result of this combination is the following list of slogans and other ways to say them.

Synonymous Slogans:

Pringles – Once you pop, the fun don’t stop!
- After your explosion you will experience endless joy! (Obviously an Islamic message)
- Destruction leads to a perpetual cycle of pleasure!
- Post-ejaculatory entertainment is never-ending!

Nike – Just do it.
- We command you.
- Stop thinking.
- Rape.

Mc Donald’s – We love to see you smile.
- Mandibles bring us joy.
- We suffer from dendiphelea. (Tooth fetish)
- SHOW US UR TEETHS!

Shake and bake – just shake and bake
- We describe the job of women!
- Rattle and fry.
- Dance and smoke pot.

Aquafina - Make your body happy.
- Do drugs.
- Masturbate.

And you thought the slogans you heard where innocent, Never again.

every one is doing it, so it must be cool. I'm opening the floor to 4 questions from each of you (yeah, like i wouldn't answer 5) any thing, and i do mean anything you've ever wondered about me, wanted to know, can think of to ask simply to embarrass me, etc.... in fact, I challenge you to come up with questions that you think I won't answer.

1.

2.

3.

4.

after you've done that, here's a story!

I am a recovered shy person, I am no longer shy but there was a time.... because of my former malady I know how shy peoples' minds work, and i know that they are not un-friendly most of them are actually very fun people that are just intimidated by situations. this story is one of a person that through a poor vocabulary had her shyness pushed to the limit and broken.

It was a normal day. I was sitting in my English class, as I am every Monday morning at 8. being surrounded by girls/women that shoot me glances and the occasional wink is alway good for my ego but there is one that sat to my left that would never take part in our jocular classmate activities. All I had been able to squeeze out of her was that her name was Terri, she was new to the school, and didn't know many people. I did my best to include her in the fun, remembering my first semester. no matter what she was quiet and would never even crack a smile at any of my jokes or antics. finally one day the class was split into groups of five, my group consisted of every girl in the class, and me (the guys in the class formed a couple "no girls" clubs) the purpose of our small group was to do peer editing. everything went more or less as expected with only the occasional chuckle at miss-used word, or word of advice on a tricky sentence. That is, until we reached the middle of Terri's paper, it was about orphans or some such blather. She used the phrase "these children are such outcasts that from a societal standpoint, they have been completely circumcised." I had to stop her at this, "are you sure you mean 'circumcised'?" i asked, "don't you mean 'ostracized'?" she looked puzzled, "no," she replied, "I mean 'circumcised' like our dog was a stray, and we figured he had been circumcised by his family" I was adamant, "no" I pushed, "I'm quite sure the word you're thinking of is 'ostracized' it means cast out or removed" she was a little flustered at being questioned like this "well then what does 'circumcised' mean?" she asked, with just a little note of "I know this, I'm proud of my big word, and you're a nosy-know-it-all" in her voice. So I told her flat out, "circumcision is when they cut the foreskin off of the male genitals, 'ostracizing' is the act of casting some one, or something out." a look of horror and recognition spread over her face, "you mean..." she paused, "you mean when I told my brother I wanted to circumcise him it meant.... and our dog...." her horror was reaching a point of no return, and I got the impression that she had been very proud of this word and had tried to use it as much as possible. but then an awesome thing happened, she started laughing, she had reached the point where she could either laugh or cry and she had gone in the right direction. The other girls in my group began laughing too, not at her, but honestly with her. (I got the impression that most of them didn't know either word and thusly where not too judgmental) To this day she has been more of an open person willing to laugh and I occasionally see her hanging out with the group of girls that had sheared her terribly embarrassing moment of realization. I still think about her threatening to circumcise her brother.... what a family.

the first and second stories before this can be found on Hy Hy and Not Nots' pages respectivly.

As the last blow fell and the last dieing soldier released his soul the world returned to silence. I would like to think that I, in some way, played a part in the battle that just rocked the foundations of this remote, god fearing village. my partner had gotten a few scratches during his fall from a horse, but I was more or less unscathed; as night fell we found rooms and undressed, each of them drifted off to sleep, but I felt quite empty. Happily, my emptiness was filled, as it always is, with the dawning of a new day and the promise of adventures to come. there was much bickering between the other flesh bags that followed us, but it amounted to little. I was happier than most to be riding rather than walking on our way to free the king from what ever enchantment was holding him. rolling trails, living woods, and 11 good friends. disguising ourselves (some more hastily than others) we decided on a plan (though I was notably left out of the discussion) infiltration and subterfuge where first on the docket, followed by murder, mutilation, and heroism (in that order.) the series of events leading up to our slaughter of the mage controlling the king could have been carried out more quickly by a bunch of loafers than we where able to. the forest dwelling tree lover showed her first use of the natural magic of balance that they devote their lives to; oddly enough this came in the form of horribly scalding an innocent soldier. Casty-mic magic decided to take a nap during our final conflict. with a king saved, a wizard killed and decapitated, and a kingdom in our debt, I'd say that all in all, we kicked quite a lot of ass.

P.S. the preceding story was told from the perspective of Jax Markell's left shoe, and will probably make a lot more since the second time through knowing that.

Man, sorry I haven't updated in a while, I've been busy without doing anything different. I suppose that's how accelerated classes go though.... I'm just letting you all know that I'm still alive. Other than that I will share a few stories that should at least be good for a chuckle.

Those of you that have met me in person know that I will never shy from a good debate, you will also know that I'm not half bad at it. (I'm a master-debater) Well, within my family it is commonly known and accepted that if you want to bring up a point with me you had better be able to defend it high and low, even then I can disprove it, I just don't allow people to say things with out being able to back it up. all of that lead in brings us to last Sunday. I had told my mom and dad earlier in the week that I was going to go to the bike shop and get a new, full face, helmet for when I'm going on long rides, they said they would come with me and look too. On the way there my mom was raging about how "unfair" the media was and how there wasn't enough "fair" coverage of current events. I was board so disproving this became my singular purpose for the next 20 minutes, by the time we got to the shop my mom was visibly fuming and said that I was going to make a wonderful lawyer. My dad (who is a very stony fellow) was actually laughing by the end of our discussion. My mom actually started calling me "stupid" and "close minded" I've never seen her crack like that; my verbal powers are truly becoming a force to be reckoned with.

I think I may have told you about this once before, but I saw it again and nearly fell down laughing. our library and computer lab are on the second floor and because of construction in the library we only have one bathroom up there. any who, the handicapped stall was broken and there was a sign on it that would keep people from trying to bash the door in. the sign read:

"Handicapped stall out of order go down stairs. =)"

it seems innocent enough until you think about what it is actually saying.... that stall is for handicapped people, as in, people in wheelchairs. telling a wheelchair ridden person to "go down stairs" is pretty much the same as saying "go F*** your self" it was good for a few laughs.

( Info )

Till next time - Tiffy

Sheep In The Meadow

A strong wind tromped through my hair, trying its best to pull me and my ratty red jacket from these endless green surroundings to a land unknown. Mouse scampered from the hay stack, climbing my pants and jacket till he finally reached my shoulder. "Turn left and keep walking till you reach the sheep," His words lacked much of the enthusiasm they had carried moments ago. I couldn't help but wonder if he was angry about my momentary laps of attention in regards his detailed instructions, also, my curiosity about the explanations I had missed was driving me insane. As the seemingly endless rows and fields moved under my feet, mouse pointed out insignificant landmarks and would talk about everything that had ever happened there. "You see that dip in the ground?" he droned on, "that was where the first sheep decided to be a sheep." "Decided to be a sheep?" I interrupted as the sky and the ground did their best to show what infinity would look like. "Of course," he responded, "sheep are not born, they choose that life. It is a life of endless ease and acceptance but for those gifts they must destroy any personality or talent they where born with." I remained silent as those heavy words tumbled in my mind. "We’re here," Mouse's words pulled me from my musing, "all we have to do is get them back into their pen. They've been out for far too long. Too much exposure to the outside and they tend to kill them selves." I was more than a little confused because I saw no sheep. The things in front of me where not the puffy white creatures I had never taken the time to look at in life, they where people. "You must be kidding," I objected, "those aren't sheep, they're people. they can do what ever they choose. I can't just pen them up." Now, I have heard laughter in many shapes and forms, most of which can be put into general categories, but that deep voiced, hairy creature perched on my right shoulder deserves his own chapter in the encyclopedia of laughter. "They have chosen this life," he replied while whipping his eyes with a paw, "and it was the last choice they will ever make." I decided to help but I was unsure of how I would even go about herding people, seeing as how this was a new experience for me. I moved closer and as they became more than outlines in the grass their features became obvious. And then an odd thing began happening, every few moments their clothes would flicker and change. One moment they would all be wearing the exact same overalls with a white shirt, and the next they would all have on slight variations on the theme: black on black with some black thrown in for color. "Well, heard them." Mouse said as if we where in a hurry. Now, If you have ever gone sky-diving with only a napkin as your parachute you have some small sense of the un-easiness that was trying so determinedly to squeeze out the contents of my stomach. The creature sitting on my ratty jacket was most obviously more than he appeared. Wasn't I recently bleeding on a hot road? what was all this about any way? "What are you waiting for?" Mouse interrupted my musings, "Just call them, as long as you don't look like them they'll follow you." lacking any great inspiration, I dully took his advice, "come here!" I called. The word “strange” took on a new meaning in my mind as well over a hundred people, all wearing the same outfit, came running towards me with the shining admiration in their eyes. However, just as they reached me their clothes flickered once again and for a moment I was standing before a throng of beings all dressed in uniform ratty red jackets and blue Jeen's. The moment they noticed their new clothes, I was no longer a point of interest; the admiration in there eyes turned to dull recognition, and they began to wander off. "Hey! Where are you going? Come this way! Hey!" I was trying to once again catch their attention but my cries fell on deaf ears, and I was getting frustrated. My hairy companion must have found the situation funny, as he was chucking to him self. "take of your jacked stupid," and at his, slightly offensive, words I understood what was happening. I took of my jacket and called to the throng. Through a continual switching of bare arms VS red jacket fashion statements, I lead the mob to the small wooden fence labeled "Loohcs" with very little trouble. After shutting the gate a niggling though came and forced me to speak "what will happen to them?" Mouse looked away loosing the jocularity of mere seconds ago. after a moment he answered "they'll be fine as long as they stay in the Loochs pen, but eventually they will be forced into the real world." he explained and then paused as if a little sad. "And then?" I probed, "will they be alright when they leave?" I asked, worried these sheep for no apparent reason. Mouse slowly responded, "I don't know, how did it all turn out for you?" Few things hurt like a mouse shining light on the trail of crap you had hitherto thought of as your life. As a child caught in mischief, my eyes locked onto my shoes and refused to rise; the tag on my thread bare jacket caught my eye. Its red material looked old and worn, but that was only because a marketing genius had simultaneously hit it with a sandblaster and doubled the price. And my Jeen's, why did I buy Jeen's that already had holes in the knees? "Lets move on," Mouse said, "it’s best not to worry about things you can't change any more." Mindlessly following his directions I mulled it all over, especially the end of his last statement, "can't change any more."

The Next update will come soon. I'm sorry this stuff isn't really funny, but eh, I figure you guys are smart enough to get the truths behind it all.

It's been a while so I won't bore you with news of my personal life. Instead, we shall get straight to the proverbial meat. Today my offering to you, the patrons of Tiffitarianism, is a story; a story of epic proportions. (like yo' mama)

Come Blow Your Horn.

I am never positive whether laughing or crying is more appropriate when I think about the priorities that have guided my life. The only pulling forces in my soul where: money, amusement, and women. I learned the hard way, that though each seems to be in the same direction; chasing all three will tear you apart. My mind collapsed as I desperately worked to maintain the pressure on the brand new red, shiny hole in my stomach. I had always wondered what last thoughts where like, picturing my last thoughts as some great work of poetry with a flow tantamount to that of a great work of the classical masters, but no. the childish, nonsensical words of the nursery rhyme "little boy blue" where my only thoughts as the heavy drape of sleep smothered the waking world.

Little Boy Blue, come blow your horn.
The sheep's in the meadow, the cow's in the corn.
Where is the boy that looks after the sheep?
"He's under the haycock, fast asleep."
Will you wake him? "No, not I;
For if I do, he'll be sure to cry."

Weather a second later or after the passing of a millennium I could not tell you, but after silence came an immensely deep voice, "get up, you should not rest here. This is no time for sleep." At least that's what I thought he said. Opening my eyes, it seemed as though the waking world was still shrouded black. But no, this was different, grasping me from every angle where the thin, scratchy, fingers of countless wheat stalks. The shock of apparently dieing on the hot black rocks of a deserted road, and my subsequent awakening buried in a hay stack was soon pushed from my mind. As my eyes adjusted to the, all but non-existent, light of my surroundings I could see the one who had awoken me. Sitting on my nose, calmly nibbling a grain of wheat was a mouse, an ordinary, brown, long whiskered field mouse. My mind, ever logical, quickly ran through the available options, "So, this is either something I was never told about the after-life or a hallucination. Either way, it's not real" The mouse, oblivious to my conclusion about his existence, or lack there of, continued, "I was told not to wake you, but there's work to be done." I have always fancied myself brave, but I was truly deeply afraid of the adorable creature that peered at me with quiet dignity. "Well," I began to respond, thinking my self foolish for speaking to this figment of my dieing imagination, "what kind of work did you have in mind?" The mouse was visibly pleased at my cooperation. his deep voice began flying past my ears so fast I stopped listening as I wondered when he would inhale, there was no way a mouse could hold enough air to fuel that many words. "…So you'll need to get the sheep to their pen and the cows out of the corn field." the mouse’s words seemed oddly familiar. "Alright," I replied, pretending all his words where remembered, "That’ll be easy, but how do I get out of here?" My deep voiced hairy acquaintance eyed me as a mother who knows she has caught a child in lies. "Climb, like I said." at his words, I felt foolish for not simply trying, also I wondered what other words had walked past the gates of my mind as I allowed my thoughts to wander. My actions in the stack where much like my life’s motto: “if it may not work, don’t try.” after freeing myself from my scratchy prison I found I existed now in an endless living field of perfect grass blowing in the wind, hay stacks in perfect rows as far as my dead eyes could see.


I'll continue posting more and more till the story's done, I just feel it'll be more fun this way (it'll also be easer on the friends page. I know my stories can get a little long)