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Wednesday, July 16, 2014

World Without Heroes

A quick bit from a story Im working on.




She shivered suddenly, her naked skin breaking out in goose pimples. It was if the temperature in the room had just dropped a dozen degrees. She rubbed at the ache she felt in her breasts, and tried to slow her suddenly racing heart. Vickie had to resist a sudden compulsion to rub lower. Inwardly fuming, she did her best to squash her feelings of the man. And then she made the connection, even as she noticed her breath mist before her; the drop in temperature, the warming feeling in her loins.

            Daemon.

            Too late, she reached for the amulet that she never took off; before her hand connected with the strange metal and stranger gem, something grabbed her wrist. A shock of pleasure ran through her, filling her with a fire that peaked between her legs. She gasped, and something turned her forcibly.

            “The sssssorcerer Lexxxxx” a voice whispered in her ear, and she felt her pulse quicken. She struggled against the feelings, desperately, but her body was rebelling and giving into the alien influence. Its voice was a horror, filled with sounds like broken glass, awful and terrible; yet she found herself drawn to it. She struggled against the grip on her wrist, weakly. Feebly.

            “Let me go,” she managed to whisper.

            The creature giggled. It opened its mouth, and Vickie could smell death wafting out. Needle like fangs dripped yellowish salvia as the thing smiled at her. Its face was a tall narrow oval, its features nearly human; the nose was too sharp, the brow too high, the cheek bones too severe. Its skin was scaly and black as tar, looking wet and reptilian. Its body was enveloped in cloak just as black, shrouding the tall slim form that towered over her by nearly two feet. The hand that gripped her like an iron cuff was cold and dry, the fingers ending in talons that would eviscerate a man with little effort.

            “Noooooo,” it answered her plea. Its dark eyes flashed with something resembling humor. “Neeeeever again.”





 

Tuesday, May 27, 2014

Ethics: What I Believe Part 2

A little while ago, I went to the vending machine at work, looking for a bag of chips. Clearly, whomever had been there before me had a spell of bad luck; it was obvious they had paid, but their chips were still hanging there, taunting. Having experienced the same awful twist of fate myself, I knew how the poor bastard must feel.

When I put my change in the machine and selected the appropriate buttons, my chips fell to the dispenser with a satisfying crash; on their journey down they somehow reached out a hand towards their trapped cousin, and pulled that not quite forgotten bag of chips to freedom.

I proceeded to abuse the company email by emailing everyone in the office to let them know their lost snack food had been liberated. I wanted that poor lost soul to experience the small joy that they would get their morning snack after all.

A person I take break with, a person insistent in her catholic beliefs, was a bit shocked at my attempts to return the errant snack to its rightful owner. Her words, and I do paraphrase a bit as this was a while ago, where: "Considering your beliefs, I'm surprised you would go to the trouble to give those back."

Because yes, only Christians can be good people. Only Christians can be the least bit empathic, and actually consider how another person might feel. And yes, I am aware I am only talking about a bag of chips here, and not a lost wallet or car keys or something.

Being an atheist does not mean I get free reign in our world. It does not mean I can go through this world committing the most heinous crimes, like murder or chip theft, all willy nilly. It means I don't believe in a god, a supreme force that created everything, watches over us, and punishes us when we steal someone's chips. Murder was wrong long before the church said it was, sometime in the middle ages. Before that, people did not need the threat of an eternity of suffering to understand that, and neither do I.

To me, ethics come down to treating people the way I would want to be treated. And yes, that jesus guy got this right, son of god or not. I wouldn't want someone to steal my chips, so I won't steal theirs.

There has been enough evil done in the name of god in this world; I prefer to rescue chips in my own name, thank you very much.



Tuesday, April 29, 2014

God and the Easter Bunny: What I Believe Part 1

When I was very young, something about Santa Claus just did not sit right with me. We didn't have a chimney, and my parent's explanations did not fit for me. Flying reindeer seemed silly. Delivering presents the world over, while under the cover of darkness provided by a single night -complicated by time zones - was impossible. So, I pretended to sleep one Christmas Eve, and snuck downstairs just far enough to watch my parents put the presents under the tree, playing Santa. Ah, I thought, now this makes sense!

Later, at my Catholic grade school, I remember learning about Greek and Roman mythology, and I remember thinking it made about as much sense as Christianity. I remember questioning the nuns at my Sunday school (and getting kicked out) about the things that just didn't seem to fit for me. Where are the dinosaurs? How about evolution? And how the hell to you explain all those animals fitting on a wooden boat, and how did they not eat each other? Reasonable questions, I still think.

Those were the kind of questions I had on my mind, when in grade 8, I went to talk to my priest. For those unaware, this was to be the year of my Confirmation. This was a big deal, a ritual where one essentially swears his or her faith in God, promising a lifetime of devotion and loyalty. I did not like the idea of one day breaking my word, so I told that priest I had doubts. For me, much like Santa and the Easter Bunny, something about this god just did not fit.

And the priest said to me: "Don't worry about it. Just say the words and you should come around some day."

And with those words of wisdom, my already shaky faith crashed down around me, starting me on a path of discovery that would take years to complete.



Love, for a time

Posting this again. I changed the ending a bit, for the better I think. Still struggling with the middle (the bit I put in bold this time).


Love, for a time

 

                She was standing against a short retaining wall, waiting for a bus. The suns light embraced her like a spotlight, her golden, freckled skin aglow. Time slowed as I drove past, and I watched her as one would watch the setting sun over mountains, or the ocean. Her auburn hair defied taming, framing her face with cascading curls. Her eyebrows were precision, her green eyes wide but bored, even as she listened to someone on her mp3 player. Her lips were painted red, the corners tugged up ever so slightly in a smile that never quite went away. She was chewing a piece of gum, blowing a big pink bubble, and playing with a curl of hair in a stereotypical way that on anyone else would appear ditsy, or maybe bubbly. On her, she was just cute; nothing could take away from the sharp wit in her eyes, the steely confidence she bore. She was dressed simply in a white blouse and black business skirt, a pair of short black heels next to her on the ground. Her bare feet were nestled in the short grass. I would imagine she enjoyed the feeling of the warm grass on her naked toes.

                At the sight, I felt my whole being suffused with warmth. As if I were tanning nude on the beach, the hot sand beneath me, the sun above.  From the tips of my toes to my eyebrows, it felt like I was blushing. I smiled, a lazy slow smile, a smile I felt all over. My heart thundered and shuddered, missing a beat here and there in its excitement. Was this love?

                I cannot recall if that was the first or last time I saw her.

                We kissed under the moon, a soft embrace that was gentle and loving, tranquil. The ocean crashed against the sand near us, providing a soundtrack for our passion. We made love in the sand, and the water swept up and around us. It was not a perfect moment, a clichéd scene from a movie; there was a bit of a chill to the air, and we laughed afterwards as we brushed the sand from each other's bodies. We both had to work in the morning, and knew that life would always intrude, eventually.  We huddled together for warmth as we watched the stars.

                On a chill night in February, we talked late into the night. She talked about indie bands, and I laughed and called her an artsy hipster. She asked if I had ever heard of one band after another, and played me samples over the phone. I hadn't. I knew the big bands, but I loved how passionate she was about this local band from Zurich or that band from Kitchener. I didn't really care about the music, but I loved it, because she did. She wanted to travel, and see them all live. I promised to take her.

                We went the movies, and I complained afterwards about how much the people around us had talked through the movie.  She had given me a knowing smile, and twirled her hair, and everything was right. I felt right. We both loved movies, the way she loved music and I loved travel. We watched classics and b-movies, block busters and character studies. It didn’t matter what we saw, as long as we saw it together.

                There was a moment where I realized I could not imagine being without her. I don’t recall what I was doing, but I am sure it involved her smile. And I knew that everything was perfect, that without her, something would be missing. Life would be less. And I think of that moment of her standing in the sun, playing with her hair, and I feel sad to know it is gone. That it never was. It will never be.

                I awaken, and she is gone. Even her name is lost as though it never was. I do not know who she was or might have been. It had been so real, we had spent a lifetime together. But now it's gone as if it had never been. All that remains to me is fleeting, images and feelings, a sense that something is now missing. I feel a little like weeping, knowing I will never see her again. Stubbornly, I hold on to that image of her by the retaining wall, her skin like honey in the sun, and refuse to let go. That was not my life, and she was never mine. She was just the girl of my dreams, is all.

I close my eyes and try to force myself back to sleep, so that I can find her again. But sleep won't come. She won't come. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, concentrating on her face; the memories are seeping away, sand slipping from my fingers. My thoughts, against my will, turning to the day at hand. She slips away. I wonder if she is out there somewhere in the world, trying hard to remember me as she awakens. The thought soothes a bit. I rise, and face the day without her.

                It's gone now. The dream. Faded away. But her smile; that stays with me all day long. And I know that for a time, at least, it was love.

Friday, April 25, 2014

Quick Post


I've said it before. More than once. I'm going to start updating this thing more than twice a year!

That being said, its amazing how little time I have for writing. At home, with two kids, and lots of work around the house, we struggle to find enough time to watch Game of Thrones. And of course my friends with older kids love to remind me it will only get worse!

At home, I am renovating my bathroom (I just finished stripping down the walls, and now the real work starts). I am also renovating the garage, and turning it into a functional wood shop. And THEN, assuming its not snowing again by then, I promised Kenny I'd build a castle for him in the back yard.

Kenny is doing great; his stories are almost as complex as mine, and I can't say it doesn't make me proud. He's in a pre-pre-school class once a week to get him ready for real school in September, and loving it. He starts soccer in two weeks.

Josie is making lots of new noises, but no words yet. She rolls around, but no crawling yet. She might skip crawling like Kenny did and go right to walking.

Writing. I'm working on a lot of stuff, when I can. Mostly a couple short stories, and whenever possible I work on World Without Heroes, my comic book that's not a comic book novel. Some adult stuff I am experimenting with that I will likely not share here :p I also keep trying to put my thoughts on atheism down on paper, in a way that is mind-opening (aka, not too offensive to turn off any religious readers -- looking at you, mom).

With that said, here is a little flash fiction I wrote that is very different than my usual stuff. It needs a bit of work in the middle, but I cannot quite put my finger on what. Enjoy.

Love, for a time
She was standing against a short retaining wall, waiting for a bus. The suns light
embraced her like a spotlight, her golden, freckled skin aglow. Time slowed as
I drove past, and I watched her as one would watch the setting sun over
mountains, or the ocean. Her auburn hair defied taming, framing her face with
cascading curls. Her eyebrows were precision, her green eyes wide but bored,
even as she listened to someone on her mp3 player. Her lips were painted red,
the corners tugged up ever so slightly in a smile that never quite went away. She
was chewing a piece of gum, blowing a big pink bubble, and playing with a curl
of hair in a stereotypical way that on anyone else would appear ditsy, or maybe
bubbly. On her, she was just cute; nothing could take away from the sharp wit
in her eyes, the steely confidence she bore. She was dressed simply in a white
blouse and black business skirt, a pair of short black heels next to her on the
ground. Her bare feet were nestled in the short grass. I would imagine she
enjoyed the feeling of the warm grass on her naked toes.
At the sight, I felt my whole being suffused with warmth. As if I were tanning nude on
the beach, the hot sand beneath me, the sun above.  From the tips of my toes to my eyebrows, it
felt like I was blushing. I smiled, a lazy slow smile, a smile I felt all over.
My heart thundered and shuddered, missing a beat here and there in its
excitement. Was this love?
cannot recall if that was the first or last time I saw her.

We kissed under the moon, a soft embrace that was gentle and loving, tranquil. The
ocean crashed against the sand near us, providing a soundtrack for our passion.
We made love in the sand, and the water swept up and around us. It was not a
perfect moment, a clichéd scene from a movie; there was a bit of a chill to the
air, and we laughed afterwards as we brushed the sand from each other's bodies.
We both had to work in the morning, and knew that life would always intrude,
eventually.  We huddled together for warmth as we watched the stars.
On a chill night in February, we talked late into the night. She talked about indie
bands, and I laughed and called her an artsy hipster. She asked if I had ever
heard of one band after another, and played me samples over the phone. I
hadn't. I knew the big bands, but I loved how passionate she was about this
local band from Zurich or that band from Kitchener. I didn't really care about
the music, but I loved it, because she did. She wanted to travel, and see them
all live. I promised to take her.
We went the movies, and I complained afterwards about how much the people around us had
talked through the movie.  She had given
me a knowing smile, and twirled her hair, and everything was right. I felt
right. We both loved movies, the way she loved music and I loved travel. We
watched classics and b-movies, block busters and character studies. It didn’t
matter what we saw, as long as we saw it together.
There was a moment where I realized I could not imagine being without her. I don’t
recall what I was doing, but I am sure it involved her smile. And I knew that
everything was perfect, that without her, something would be missing. Life
would be less. And I think of that moment of her standing in the sun, playing
with her hair, and I feel sad to know it is gone. That it never was. It will
never be.


awaken, and she is gone. Even her name is lost as my sub consciousness is 
pushed aside by wakefulness. I do not know who she was or might have been. It's
the nature of dreams; it had been so real, we had spent a lifetime together.
But now it's gone as if it had never been, and all that remains is fleeting,
images and feelings, a sense that something is now missing. I feel a little
like weeping, knowing I will never see her again. I hold on to that image of
her by the retaining wall, her skin like honey in the sun, I stubbornly refuse
to let go. That was not my life, and she was never mine. She was just the girl
of my dreams, is all. I close my eyes and try to force myself back to sleep, so
that I can find her again. But sleep won't come. She won't come. I squeeze my
eyes tightly shut, concentrating on her face; the memories are seeping away,
sand slipping from my fingers. My thoughts, against my will, turning to the day
at hand. She slips away. I wonder if she is out there somewhere in the world,
trying hard to remember me as she awakens. The thought soothes a bit. I rise,
and face the day without her.
It's gone now. The dream. Faded away. But her smile; that stays with me all day
long. And I know that for a time, at least, it was love.



Thursday, November 21, 2013

Change

Someone asked me why I never update my blog the other day, and I thought "Sure I do. It hasn't been that long." So I checked in, and realized its just about a year to the day since my last update. Wow. I'm a slacker.

So what's going on?

Well, in my personal life, a lot. On October 21 we lost Bear, and I was pretty devastated. I'm still a long way from moving past it. I loved that dog.

Kenny is finally nearly toilet trained, after a number of on again/off again attempts throughout the year. He's less than a year away from school, which is mind blowing. He still sleeps perfectly, and is a smart, polite well behaved boy most of the time.

The biggest news which I completely skipped on the blog, is that we now have a second child. Josephine Mae Dunkley was born on August 13, and is currently causing my sleep schedule much distress. Like her brother, she is about as cute as humanly possible, and she's at that stage where she's smiling a lot, and kind of playing as well. Kenny loves her dearly, and can't wait to show her how to play avengers and go on long walks.

My sister also brought another family member into the world, my nephew Declan. He's an awesomely cute little guy that is destined for football - already he's built like a linebacker. Because of a hectic life of late, I have not seen him nearly enough, but hope to remedy that in the near future.

As for writing, the main reason I suspect any of you come here, I'm sure you can guess progress has been limited. I have been puttering at some short stories, a bit of work here and there on Iron King and World Without Heroes, but mostly I have been rereading snippets of my work trying to get back into the "zone". I have not stopped writing, and never will. It's just been delayed a bit. I hope to have something more to share soon.

Lastly, on the topic of this blog itself. I can't promise to post more, butI want to, and will try. Along with bits about my life and writing, I am considering sharing some other thoughts, on the world around us. Things that have me thinking. Things that have me worried, or excited. I guess we will see what the future brings.

Thanks for sticking with me!

Friday, November 23, 2012

For Kasey

Just Another Day.

3:07am


"Did you hear that? What was that? Is it morning already? Kasey, what was that? Is it time for breakfast? Hey hey, I think it must be morning. Kasey? Getupgetupgetup!"

"Oh god" I grumble. "Go back to sleep. It's the middle of the night." I open one eye anyway, knowing she is wrong, but still needing to double check; I am kind of hungry, after all. The room we share is nearly black, our two beds shrouded in darkness. I'm curled up in mine, and I take a moment to glare at my sister. She's standing on hers, her whole body rigid with quivering anticipation. She is such a morning person. She makes a noise deep in the back of her throat, and I hiss at her to be quiet. "Don't wake dad!" The door to our room is closed, and I think I can make out the eyes of one of the cats up high on a shelf.

I hear a door open in the hallway, and roll my eyes; Bear's little stub of a tail is whipping around like a propeller, and I wonder that it doesn't come clean off. She launches herself at the door and I'm sure she is going to smash right into it, but instead she skids to a halt and drops to the floor just before it, her nose pressed to the slit underneath. Light spills in, and I hear some noise in the other room. Just mom or dad, going to the bathroom. I rest my head back on my paws, and roll my eyes. "Bear, it's not morning. It's not time to come out yet. " Of course, she ignores me. Her little stub is moving so fast I can feel the air move from across the room. My tail wiggles a bit, much to my chagrin; her excitement can be contagious, I'll give her that. I still my own tail with an embarrassed frown; I'd have blushed, if I could.

Moments pass; the toilet flushes, the taps in the sink run, and then the light turns out. Another second or two, and the door to our parents' bedroom clicks shut. Bear, the silly twit, still thinks it's morning. "Bear, cut it out. I'm going back to sleep." I close my eyes, and soon enough I'm dreaming of squirrels. Likely Bear is still standing at the door as I sleep.

6:59am

There's light outside, now. I have to pee, and I'm beginning to wonder if I'll ever eat again. I'm sure it's been weeks since the last time we had a meal. Weeks! Bear's awake, but the silly monster is lying on her back, a dazed expression on her face. She's drooling a little bit, too. It must be almost time to-

The bedroom just opened! My sister beats me to our door only by a tail -and a stub of a tail at that. Her tail is at it again, but then mine is a little out of my control too. I don't care; I'm nearly positive that its breakfast time! We hear the bathroom, and mom talking to the cats. The felines are crowded outside our door; they get fed in here, while we go downstairs to eat. Humans have the strangest ideas about these things.

Our door opens, and ohmygodtheresmommy! For a moment, everything's chaos; cats bound in past us, heading towards their prospective spots. Bear and I charge mom, circling around her in a rush. "mommymommymommymommymommy" Bear is repeating over and over in excitement, and I'm embarrassed to admit I'm almost as bad. She pushes past us, muttering something that sounds annoyed in Human that I don't quite make out, and the door clicks shut. I hear the cats demanding their breakfast, so I charge downstairs; Bear remains outside our room -by running ahead of her, I avoid being trampled on the stairs by my gigantic klutz of a sister.

I hear the door open, and mom starts down the stairs. Ok, I admit; at this point I'm pretty excited. I can smell the cat food upstairs, and I can smell my own food in that darn frustrating plastic bin. Why are human's so slow? Doesn't mom realize I'm starving to death here?! "Mom!" I shout, "C'mon! Hurry up!"

Bear crashes down the stairs with her usual grace; I wince a bit at the colossal crash as she smashes into a wall while trying to take a tight corner, moving at about ninety past the speed limit. With all the elegance of a horse standing on an ice rink she slides into the kitchen, nearly knocking me over as she skids to a stop at her food bowl. "Food?" she asks me with a goofy smile.

And then mom is there, and everything is ok.

7:38am

I'm in my chair. It's a cozy thing, just the right size for me to curl up in, next to the big window. I love my chair. I can watch the birds, and I can see when dad gets home, as he pulls his car up almost right next to me. I love the feel of the sun on me in my chair, and I admit tanning is something of a guilty pleasure; I know, I know, I've heard about the risks of sun tanning, but it just warms up my fur and makes me so toasty, well, I can't resist. Especially now that Spring is here, and everything is warming up. I love this time of year! There are so many things out there to smell, sometimes I wish I could stay out there all day! Of course, then I'd get hungry...

Where was I? Mom and dad are rushing around the house, with Bear tagging along hopefully. I lift my head a bit, and try to get her attention; she ignores me, but I call out to her anyways; "Bear, they're going out. We have to stay here."

"Can I come?" Bear asked mom. She didn't seem to hear; humans seldom do. "Mom, Can I come?" Her tail was spinning again, with such force that her entire back end was swaying back and forth like a transport trailer on a winding road. She gave up as dad entered the room, and turned to him instead. "Dad, can I come? Are we going to the park? I love the park. Dad, can we go to the park?"

Dad glanced down at her fondly, and scratched her between her two black ears. He said something in a nice voice, and I could make out "go" and "work". I felt a brief stab of jealousy that he was petting her and not me; but she was just a kid and nearly twenty years younger than me, after all. And I guess if I had been begging for attention like her he would have petted me too; but I have more dignity than that.

Mom and dad are moving towards the door, and Bear is frantically zipping around them in a panic. "Don't forget me!" she was crying, "I wanna come to!" Pathetic. I jump to the floor, feeling the strain in my legs even for such a short drop -I guess I must be getting old. I calmly walk to the door to say goodbye as they leave, and watch Bears tail suddenly go as still as a stone. I guess she realized she's staying here.

I hear the car start up, and I return to my chair. Before I settle, I deal with an itch on my back leg, gnawing just a bit for relief. Then I settle in. A few minutes later, Bear trudges her way back upstairs. I hear her climb slowly on the big bed in the guest room; that's a nice spot, too. Lots of sun. Maybe I'll join her in a bit.

11:02am

Bear is snoring. And taking up most of the bed. I moved up to join her an hour or so ago; I guess I like her company, but don't ever tell her that. That darn Rottweiler is sprawled out and taking up at least three quarters of the bed. I'm curled up next to her, but I admit I appreciate her warmth. It’s sunny outside, and I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t rather be outside. I sigh contently. Bear twitches a bit in her sleep.

Kozmo, one of the cats, jumps up on the bed; he freezes for a moment. I don't think he realized we were already up here. He looks at me as if he were asking permission -not that felines ever listen to what us canines have to say, even though it's pretty much a given that what we think makes a lot more sense. I glare at him for a second, and think about chasing him a way. "Whatever," I mumble, and rest my head on Bear's flank. Other than the twitching, she hasn't budged, by the way. And humans say Rottweiler's are supposed to be guard dogs. Kozmo curls up next to Bear, and closes his eyes.

I wish it was lunchtime. I'm hungry. Ah, well. Mom should be home soon.

1:31pm

Mom’s still not home. I’m sitting in the window downstairs, where I have a good view of the driveway. It’s sunny and warm, and I can see little specs of dust dancing in the beams of light that gather in pools on the hardwood floor next to me. There’s a bird on the fence next door, but I was never much interested in birds; I’m a beagle after all, not some silly retriever with no thought in his head except “fetch!”

At the sound of a car, I know she’s home; Bear crashes down the stairs and arrives at the front door right after me. She pushes past me, eager to greet mom first; the silly canine doesn’t really mean to be so pushy, she just doesn’t realise her own strength. Still, I growl at her in warning, and she apologizes.

Mom steps in, and we rush her; she’s carrying something, but I can tell right away it’s not food. I dismiss it, and run for my bowl. Bear runs in circles, her long legs slipping and sliding on the kitchen floor, and she almost manages to trip mom. “Food!” I bark impatiently. “Please!” I just think to add. Dad’s always telling me not to be rude.

We eat pretty quickly; I watch Bear out of the corner of my eye as I eat, making sure she doesn’t try to sneak some of my food. I’m not kidding – I’ve seen her do it. She’s watching me as she eats, too, though I have no idea why. I’d never do anything like that to her. Honest.

I finish up, and head right for the back door. Mom’s already there waiting, and she opens it and lets me out. As I’m moving through the door, Bear again smashes her way past, pushing past me like she can’t even see me. And dad calls me rude!

I gotta go pretty bad, but once outside I stop and sit on the edge of the deck. I close my eyes for a minute, and raise my muzzle to the sun. Winter is fine enough, I suppose, but boy am I glad spring has arrived. I can hear the birds, and another dog down the street calling hello. The air smells fresh and crisp, like dirt and water, flowers and fur, like an endless meadow right in the middle of the city. The warmth of the sun feels like its charging me, filling me with life. Even the wood of the deck beneath me is warm, and feels pleasant on my flanks.

I break out of my revere and head down into the grass, and do my business. Bear has already finished, and is standing off to one side, waiting for me. I could just ignore her, and she would go away eventually. But I’m feeling pretty good. I’m even feeling a pleasant burst of puppy like energy, so I break into a sudden run towards her. She braces herself, trying her Rottweiler best to look tough, and I hit the brakes just before her, laughing. I dart off in the other direction, and she chases; she’s laughing with me.

I lead her on a chase around the yard, and then we trade and I chase her for a bit. A little later we chase a squirrel. Mom has looked out at us a couple times, but seems fine with letting us stay outside and play. Spring was created just for us canines, I’ve decided. Could it ever be more perfect?

5:32pm

“Is dad here yet?” Bear asked in a murmur. She’s been napping again, and looks to have just awoken. She looks a little out of it –again- as she rests her gigantic head on the chair next to me. She sniffs at my face, and I grumble at her not to be rude.

“Does it look like he’s here?” I reply sarcastically.

Bear actually lifts her head and looks around. “I don’t see him,” she sounds puzzled.

I sigh, letting my breath pump out like a bellows in exasperation. No one realizes how tough it is to be me, I swear. “You silly twit, I was being sarcastic. Of course he’s not here.”

Bear let her head fall, resting again on the cushion next to me, as if supporting her silly head next to me would somehow actually hold up her entire body. She looks a little disappointed. “Oh,” she mumbled. I actually almost feel bad that I might have hurt her feelings.

Mom is moving around the house, and I hop past Bear to the floor. She follows me, as I go to see what mom’s up to. She’s in the kitchen, and I can smell something cooking. Human food smells so much better than ours! It hardly seems fair.

Bear hears something, and rushes past me to our spot in front of the window. Her bum is swaying back and forth like an uneven load in a transport tuck, and I jump up beside her. The car is in the driveway! And there! Its dad! He’s home! My tall is whipping around out of control, but I don’t care. I call out to him, and Dad looks up at the window and smiles. He waves, and starts down the driveway. As if shot from a gun, the two of us race towards the front door, nearly ending up in a collision and pile-up there. The door opens, and he steps in. “Hey guys,” he says. “Yeah, relax, I’m home,” I grab a cat toy, and offer it with a smile. “Look what I brought you dad!” He takes it, and I could just die from happiness.



Dad’s home!

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