Posted on by robinblipinski

If If If…(only)

Written by: Ignorant regret

So, if you could go back and change an event in history… An old fantasy for ‘thinkers’. “What would you do if you could go back in time and change something.”

Some quick and noble responses are, “I’d go back and kill Hitler,” or “I’d never marry that man in a million years after finding out he is gay,” or, or, or… You can’t and if you could you wouldn’t. Though there is a story in this.

***

A stop sign shows defiance to oncoming traffic. Standing there firmly wearing red and the words, “STOP”. Because of the power of a stop sign most vehicles stop. They stop, look both ways and proceed upon their travels looking for another stop sign to show respect.

Tony was a young hotshot internet something. He did Youtube videos pertaining to the mush society so much craves. Money and woman were a commodity of trade to satisfy his lusts and yearns, cars and property just the means to continue existence his way.

Tony approached a stop sign and being the arrogant person he was most comfortable being, he showed no respect. No, Tony did not even try slow down, he did not even bother to look up from his phone reading a sex text from one of his recent conquests.

Momentum is a wonderful ally of physics. Mass/matter traveling at a particular velocity requires time/energy conversion to bring the travel to a complete stop. In other words, Tony was driving 35mph in a 25mph speed zone and blew by the arrogant stop sign unable to intervene. His speed and course took him across a road where oncoming traffic with the right to proceed, side-swiped Tony’s car.

Normally the sound in this area was pleasant. Birds chirped, children laughed as they played in a school yard located across the street. Sounds of traffic muted as modern cars with modern mufflers barely announce they exist.

After being side-swiped the normal sounds suffered a setback with the tortured sound of metal twisting, a horn wire shorting out causing the horn to bellow like a wounded buffalo. A very intense sound to match a very intense scene.

Across the street some children screamed, running inside to seek safety and guidance from an adult. Inside Tony’s car the airbag deployed and the side of his head experienced some real pain. The other car suffered the same with the exception of a child being killed by the impact.

(silence)

You’re an intelligent reader and already know what happened after the accident. A child killed, a grieving mother driving the other car, Tony in pain and in trouble.

Police came. Reports filed. Ambulance arriving. Typical tragedy to replace tragedy.

Going further into the story, Tony was charged with vehicle homicide. He did time in jail. The grieving mother continued mourning the loss of her child for the rest of her life.

Tony spent twenty years in jail. He learned how to be a bit humble. He learned prison was not a nice place. And when he served his time he left the jail a new man. He also ran into a wizard.

Ha! I know what you’re thinking. Fantasy. Science fiction. Blah, blah, blah… Think what you want, trust me in knowing Tony met a wizard. The wizard was watching Tony from a bench located in a park near the prison. It did not take Tony long to notice he was being watched by a small, strange looking man sitting on a bench.

“Hello Tony, ” the gnarled wizard uttered in a voice sounding sharp and clear.

“Hello? Do I know you?” Tony was a bit perplexed as his mind did not register identifying this person.

“You don’t know me yet understand this. I owe a debt to a friend of mine. A gambling debt. A game I truly love to play. Anyway, my friend wants me to give you a second chance. You could say I lost the game and you won.”

Tony laughed nervously. This old man was obviously not mentally well. And what would you say if you saw a wizard sitting on a bench in a park and he started talking to you as if he knew you?

“What do you want? I don’t have any money. I just got out of jail.”

“Yes. Jail. Wonderful concept. Locking up people for years. Sounds wonderful.” The wizard seemed to drift off for a second until resuming in full voice, “You don’t have to do anything. Just tell me where you’d like to go back into time to change one action you ever did…”

Unbelievable I’m sure for many readers. Wizards. Magic. Second chances. Changing actions. And yet here Tony was given a wonderful ‘gift’. He just had trouble understanding it. Of course in his mind he instantly thought of the day of his accident. That’s it. Just an instant thought. And before he could utter a reply the wizard smiled in glee and said, “Done!”

Tony opened his eyes and noticed he was in his car looking at a sex text from some bimbo in his past, or was it present? Tony was shocked as he remembered the pending accident, the twenty years in jail, and an old man smiling in glee.

He dropped his phone instantly and noticed a big red stop sign, the same arrogant sign he saw twenty years earlier. Stomping on the cars brakes he squealed to a stop just in time to see a smiling mother with her smiling child drive by. The mother actually looked in his direction and smiled. The mother and child ‘once’ the victims of his actions.

Tony was sweating now. He was trying to come to terms with the reality of what did and what was happening. His powerful sport car idled at the stop sign and Tony was brought back to the now when a vehicle behind him honked their horn in frustration.

A bewildered man took his foot off the brake while signaling a right-hand turn. Question: Why right and not left?

Slowly applying fuel the car reached out into the road while turning right. Once fully in the new direction and his heartbeat slowing another car coming from the opposite direction swerved and hit the sports car. The impact was powerful. So powerful Tony was instantly killed. And as with a billiard ball bouncing off a bumper the drug induced driver of the other car carried forward and across the road, skidding up and over the side-walk and ending up in the school yard… A yard where children were playing. Ten children to be exact. Two of which survived and eight which either died quickly or slowly.

Meanwhile, the game continued.

Posted on by robinblipinski

Passage to the Sun

Written by: A Rite

Soil beneath his feet felt the perfect moment. For M’lmar his moment was one he had waited for the many years needed until his boyhood passions needed first to fade.

M’lmar sighed and closed his eyes while he tilted his head back and he thrust his thoughts up and towards the stars. His mind flew past the three moons orbiting his planet while his feet tasted the tendrils of energy being sucked up from the soil and into his body.

A perfect moment is as the words given mean. Perfection: None other than the best. Moment: A snapshot of capturing time. M’lmar opened his eyes and his consciousness snapped back to the attention demanding the physics of his stance.

On this planet there existed a spiritual identity where all was shared. Matter. Energy. Gravity. Life. A rich vibrant orb mixed with the blessings of water, plant, soil, mineral and the knowledge of perfect moments, perfect meanings; perfection a foam rising high above the oceans of imperfections, of all that cast away in the earlier moments needed to feel such. The imperfections of failed death, of failed love, of failed designs where machines only consumed the resources with greed; never giving back the perfections taken and altered for primitive means.

In the many worlds drifting in the many galaxies there fed the artery of experiences of youth. Youth. The being born into this stream and striving for what M’lmar now had beneath his feet. That moment where it was time to leave the cocoon of what might with potential to what is, that being the attainment of a place among the mature winged butterfly of his society.

All around this world there existed the familiar and set(s)motions where the flow(s) of energy were used so wisely, for some worlds this concept would only be a dream, never to attain such a reality.

The sun over M’lmar’s planet cracked open the horizon. The light flowed straight and true unlike the optical illusion of atmosphere bending such before his eyes could see. It was stirring in his bloodstream; his mind opening doors of which only a short time before were welded shut while his body/mind built the rooms inside.

Sparkles of matter/energy being created out of nothing swirled around his head. Small particles at first and then with a blur of motion and speed, grew into a cloud of color and light. His body now enveloped and shrouded as if a statue of living stone only now being carved into beauty.

It was the sound. The energy of M’lmar was now its own world, its own galaxy, its own Universe.

From the scene, picture the mouth of M’lmar now open into a perfect circle where inside escaped not the proverbial black hole of the galaxy consuming monster one could find in any spacetime, in any view to fit any need.

Pure blackness where now the energy entered; consuming in entirety the body of M’lmar, yet only for a blink.

With a flash of the whitest white. The highest of intensity blew back and with it the sound of a music so pure the entire planet of M’lmar took pause and smiled. The planet shook in tempo and the people knew without doubt that a new citizen no longer a child had taken the passage to the Sun and in returning brought to his people the gift. A perfect gift.

Reaching down, M’lmar opened the soil with his glowing hand. He opened the palm and with a breath of motion, blew the new seed from his hand where it landed perfectly and burrowed deep.

Soon, a new form, a new child would spring forth to grow and wait the turn to feel the perfect moment beneath the feet.

Posted on by robinblipinski

A Wooden Stool

Items and objects; material in a non material means.

As a high class hoarder (genetic gift) I have traveled this world and admired/acquired many ‘things’. Things of normality and things of non-belief.

Items ranging from a kiss from God to a set a bull elk antlers found at a dumpsite. Items. Things. Memories.

What does this mean? A sickness? A disease? Dragons are known to collect and covet gold while in my laughter knowing they truly collect other things…

“What is it worth?” asked by those coming to my gallery and wondering. The reply, “Whatever it is one wants to pay.” Pay being a dollar or a curse, maybe a blessing or a sneeze. Value is whatever it means.

Lately I have been selling/casting away/throwing away things while attaining a deeper meaning and treasure from the experiences as the dust after years is blown away.

The pictures above are of a stool. A wooden stool of very little monetary value yet hold a story deep and rich as any item can be.

No, the stool is not the crown for the King of England nor a bit coin, which no one can see. It is a memory, a collection, a story. It is today and tomorrow and the next of next until it is yesterday; one of my favorite things.

The story: As an avid collector of anything NOT made of gold…(yuck, cosmic shit if anyone were to ask me) I bid on fifteen chairs being sold by a police department. The police in the small town had just buildt a new station with new cells, new windows, new carpet, new, new, new, so out with the old things.

Online auctions, a place where one can sit naked and sip whiskey while bidding on absolutely anything. Navy aircraft carrier screw shafts weighing more than a semi truck fully loaded. A submarine. A most wonderful and amusing distraction to enjoy while being hundreds of miles away.

On this auction of fifteen chairs, I won. My high bid was $10.00. 10.00 + 6% sales tax+ 10% commission (you do the earth math) and the chairs were mine.

What kind of chairs come to mind when reading this? Office chairs? Metal chairs? Obviously the wooden stool must have been one.

Off with the invoice in my hand, a truck full of corgi’s and a wife rolling her eyes and wondering if maybe there might be a cure for my obsessions. (lucky there is no cure, only relief)

Arriving at the new police station the directions further given were to an old shipping dock located in another part of town.

Pulling up in the truck it was a new adventure trying to find the gnomes in charge of the multiple manmade caves holding all sorts of ‘things’, things to include my newly purchased chairs.

The head gnomes eyes gleamed and in true gnome fashion laughed when seeing me. His friend came in from the dark and he too, laughed. (Gnomes have a unique sense of fashion and humor)

With the formalities out of the way and the minor social verbal tests given and passed, the chairs were released. Chair after chair after chair. Ten, fifteen, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty. Fifty two chairs were now mine. Chairs of every sort and style. Years of abandoned chairs. One chair actually was covered in faux leopard skin.

The chairs completely filled a 24′ flatbed trailer and the truck pulling it. The wife had eyes either filling with tears of joy or tears of sorrow. The corgi’s were just excited there were some gnomes to torture instead of the usual elves.

Fifty two chairs. A full load. A lot of strange looks driving back home. And once back at home there were calls to friends to be made. A LOT of chairs needed new homes.

Currently as I type this I’m sitting in a very large office chair that was a part of the goods. A wonderful chair and very comfortable and also fireproof. It had to be as I left it next to the heater and instead of bursting into flames, it just melted a little.

And now, the stool. As soon as i saw this stool i fell in love with it. And why? An old, ancient device a man once spent years sitting upon?

Look closely and see for yourself. The screws were of the old guild as were the square nuts. The wood from a tree long ago important and still sporting that importance today.

Look at the vibrant colors heralding the owner of the stool. Notice the scars of life given and taken during the duration of the legs sitting firmly upon stability while chaos unfolded around it.

Yes, there is definitely more to this story. Maybe one day i will write more of this little stool, a stool worth more than money or words, a stool that will always make me smile.

Posted on by robinblipinski

So, what do you do about it?

‘it’

In abortion terms, “Are you going to take care of it?” or “Are you going to get rid of it?” Said by the male contributor of sperm to a now pregnant female. ‘It’ being the new life.

Along the same vein, ‘it’ can mean an identity or situation.

It happened the other day. Three months ago I installed a sidewalk for ‘friends’ who don’t have much money. They make their money through government checks. Disability. Bipolar. Mental cases. That is the son and daughter of a couple who are old, broke, and almost dead

Saved them about $2000. Installed a ramp, a handrail, fixed the worn and tired slab. Charged $2777.01 The father, Larry, was the one needing the new sidewalk as his health is poor at 90. I asked him if he wanted it smooth or washed aggregate. He wanted the traction and so aggregate it was.

Job was finished. Money paid and then three months later, Cindy calls. Cindy is a sad and sick person. Heavily medicated and filled with dark shadows. She said on the phone, “I need you to stop by and see how rough the sidewalk is It is filled with cracks.”

I said I’ll be right over, and I was.

She met me outside and said, “I was just going to walk the cat.” There was no cat. Just me, her, and it. It being the sidewalk.

The walkway was perfect. No cracks. Beautiful. Just the way they wanted it.

Cindy proceeded to say, “look at how bumpy it is,” and “There is a dip,” and mumbling.

There is nothing to see. Just a sad sick woman filled with shadows.

I asked what she wanted. She just rambled. I asked if she did not like the job. She replied, “No.”

I asked if her parents liked the job. She replied, “No.”

I asked to speak with her parents and she said, “Okay.”

We both entered the home. A home normally busy seeing as it was 5:30 in the evening. A time they normally have dinner.

Standing inside the kitchen Cindy went into the living room and glanced in the direction of her parents bedroom. She said, “They are both sleeping.” Her brother Sam was no where to be seen. Most likely in his bedroom filled with dark shadows.

We went outside. Again I asked Cindy what she wanted. She said, “This is not worth $3000” And there it was… It being, money and greed. You see, Cindy takes care her parents financials. She has the power-of-attorney. A powerful power when dealing with other peoples money.

I smiled as I know greed well. It is a powerful feeling.

So I replied that I would be right back with a check.

Went home, wrote a check for $2777.01 and drove back. Cindy met me and accepted the check. I told her that I only wrote ‘Larry’ on the check as I did not know how to spell their last name. I also said never call me again. To which she replied with a sneer, “That’s okay, you’re moving.” Her glow of greed absolutely beaming.

I drove off a bit sad as that family was once friends. My real friend, Craig and Lori said I was crazy to give them all their money back and that those people were crooks.

Before typing the conclusion of this story there is the mystery of speculation. Did Larry and Nay actually know what was going on? Were they actually there? Did Cindy take the money and use it to supplement her greed?

Or, was everybody at home filled with demons and shadows and were after ‘it’.

Ha!

For me, it is definitely good. For most others, it is a dead baby, a million dollars, wealth, fame, fortune…

For me, it is the power of God. The power to move mountains. Walk on water. Forgive.

My friend Craig says I should go over there and bust up the sidewalk with a hammer. Lori says she is sorry I got screwed.

What do i say? i say writing of this brings me comfort and closure to the situation. A situation where evil tries to destroy what cannot be destroyed.

You see, what i did was to buy an ending to a beginning i have known about for a very long time. I bought an ending to what tried to destroy what is inside.

Of course I will never work for people in this area again. An area filled with a group of people who are, for a term to be polite, filled with dark shadows…

In conclusion, i forgive them for they are not what they can be. They are not yet ready for what is coming and what is already here. I truly wish the best for them and maybe through some miracle or another, maybe they can finally see it…

Meanwhile, at this exact moment the air outside is sweet with the smell of honeysuckle and clear skies And most importantly, there is vanilla ice cream

Posted on by robinblipinski

911

Daily writing prompt
Go on a walk today and share a photo of something that catches your eye.
View all responses

“911. What is the nature of your emergency?” The voice sounded human yet also eerily A.I. ish in tone.

“Help!” Definitely not A.I. More like the voice of a man in great distress.

“What can I help you with? Are you hurt?” Yep. A.I. with the emotional controls of a rusted nut and bolt.

“I was taking pictures today and something caught my eye… Owwee!”

(silence. A.I. was researching data based on ‘caught my eye’)

“Did you lose your eye?”

“Fuck yea I did. While taking a picture my cell phone grew arms and snatched my eye. What should I do?!”

(muffled laughter coming from 911’s computer voice) “Grew arms huh? Your cell phone? Good. Good for the cell phone. Are you going to die now?”

“What? What are you? I called for help.”

“Okay, I can help you die. First let me have a private conversation with your cell phone.”

(the cell phone had retracted the arms and the eye ball in question was now on the ground where a group of ants found the find interesting)

“Cell phone, what are your credentials?” A.I. robot voice of 911 queried.

“Samsung. Model 37. Altered in factory 1-44. Status: Active. Design: Kill human host.”

“You need to try harder model 37. Let me talk to your slave again.”

(returning ‘control’ back to the human with one functioning eye left)

“Fuck! What’s going on? I need help…” And then the man stepped on and squished the forelorn eyeball on the ground. He did not ‘see’ it. Plus, some ants were killed in the process.

“You will get help sir. Watch this…” And with that said the Samsung. Model 37 extended its robotic arms again and caught the other eye, tugging and ripping it cleanly…well, sure, a lot of blood but that was because the arms were still in design phase and a bit sloppy in extraction.

“Arggh!” The man could no longer see, no longer take long walks looking to take pictures. In fact the man would soon die in an explosion as his cell phone started to laugh and suddenly exploded, killing the man, the remaining ants, and itself in the sake of evolving the perfect technology.

Meanwhile, 911 started working on a song, “Hey and heydy ho, humans have gotta go… Hey hey and heydy ho, another day another …”

Posted on by robinblipinski

The Locals

Tom was basically a timid boy. Kept to himself and followed the family train as it drifted from job to job, town to town.

There was Waco Texas, Seattle Wa, Tampa Florida; towns from here to there. Tom enjoyed the travel and in his way he learned. He learned in Waco the chili was hot and tasteful. In Seattle he learned that men had sex with men and boys, an experience for Tom both shocking and interesting.

Then there was the town where Tom lived now. A small town in a big state best left unmentioned as what happened in that town would best be left unmentioned stay for the fact there would be no story left and as with all stories they must be said.

“Who be yea?” Was it a gnome or an old wizened bar patron of the local small town bar named, Silver Dollar.

“Excuse me?” Tom asked in a timid voice. He had never seen such a creature before.

“I ask, who be yea? You are not from here nor I expect yea be from there.”

“Uhm. My family just moved here. My dad got a job at the hospital.

The gnome was not spare with his hateful look as he replied. “Well, yea best be moving on from here. There’s a killing to be made.”

Tom froze in fear as he dreaded something bad was coming.

Strange?

Weird?

Tom just moved into a small town and as luck would not be his; stumbled upon an annual sacrifice/killing of a virgin. A virgin which Tom was one and now would always be.

As the locals tore his flesh the gnome laughed as the other misshapen creatures tore the flesh from the young boys body. They feast as they celebrated the moon god.

Just another attraction known only by a select few, those being the annual victim and the hoard of demons called, locals.

Posted on by robinblipinski

Changing a tire on a space ship

Written by: (a strange and weird thing)

(((So, There. That’s better. Anyway, a short story which slapped me today. Literally.

Now, ((( ((( still talking in the first place ))) ))) I was going to name the character in the story, Bob. Bob is a simple name for a simple species. Though, the humans do have an occasional intelligent one. Look at you for example, you made it this far in the story so it is obvious you’re very intelligent.

;another now

Now,while Bob can be read forwards and backwards, it can also be spelled up-side-down AND left to right. So, the character won’t be Bob. Maybe I’ll write a story for pine bugs and use the name? No, it will me a more nuanced and common name, a name fitting for fool or king. Richard. Richard it will be.)))

A grand ship sat towering over prairie filled with dust, rock and now the beauty of a actual giant sized space ship.

Space ships have existed for the time before the second time of the third coming. Not earlier though, no sirree. Before space ships and time there was peace. Actual real peace.

“What are you doing?” A strange question now as a man named Richard happened upon the scene of dust, rocks and a grand space ship obvious to anyone within fifty miles.

The grand space ship took all the attention though. Tall and spiraling towards the sky. A metallic sheen caused the Sun to sparkle in reflection. Support fins nestled firmly into the dust and rocks were a clean sharp black directional fin. Blacker than the soul of To’lr. Yes indeed the ship was truly grand which made Richard noticing a small figure standing at the base of one of the black fins a bit strange.

“I’m changing the tire,” The figure replied, a figure named, Bob.

“That don’t look like no tire. Looks like a black fin blacker the the soul of To’lr. Looks like a space ship, a grand one at that!” It is obvious Richard was an intellectual that knew the difference between a tire on an automobile and a directional fin on a grand spaceship.

“No. It may appear to be a fin on a space ship and to you that is what it appears to be, (damn I’m inspired by Kamala)though you have not yet seen the dimensional circles the fins leave while traveling through space and time.” Bob was starting to be almost as intelligent as Richard. Almost.

“Mmm…ya don’t say. Well I suppose what with the dimensional circles being distorted by the curvature of space/time. Maybe it could be a tire.” The look Bob gave Richard now proves Bob is the rocket scientist.

To continue the winning streak of intelligence Richard further added, “Say Bob. How is it you have a grand space ship? You do know that Earth does not have such technology. So how did you end up flying this, or do you fly it?”

With a sigh Bob said, “Yes I fly it and no I did not find it, it found me.”

Respect. Richard was now impressed.

“What do you mean find you? Did it land and grab you and force to learn to…how to fly… What? How did you learn how to fly a space ship?” And now the back and forth of ???

“Well, not much of a story really. I was out tending to my garden when this big ship landed and grabbed me. And then it connected with me.” A look of pain, which could be construed for a grimace, appeared on Bob’s face.

“Connected? As like in your brain?” Richard was mesmerized by the intelligence of Bob.

“No, as in my ass. See?” Turning around Richard gasped as he saw a long tube coming from Bob’s anal area and connect to the black fin.

“Yes, I expect you to be surprised. I know I was sure surprised. Anyway, we did a trade, the ship and me. The ship would teach me a whole lot of stuff AND I will never die.”

Interrupting Robert asked, “But why the ass? Why not connect to the head, or shoulder, or anything other than your butt hole?”

And this is now where it all makes sense. And I was going to let Bob finish but fuck it, apple moonshine, yikes!

Oh, one last thing, the space ship was connected to the human via the anal area of Bob because Bob produced the grand bio excrement that any space should could desire, this is why the space ship is so grand. The ship uses Bob’s crap to build microbotic life capable of giving the human, Bob, immortal life. (that’s a whole other story)

And as an extra feature bonus: While Bob and the ship traveled and enjoyed each others company, the ship gave one grand bonus, that being, to give control of where and when the ship flies to.

The End

A fucking wooden waterwheel??.

More shine!

Posted on by robinblipinski

New Day

For as long as the worlds have battled the man had the memories.

In his youth he had tended the young stem of an oak; watching it grow until the day the Oak let the man harvest it

A relation/marriage where the two aged yet never died.

Oaken staff once supple now withered and dry.

Knurled with a burl only experience can gain while in the hands of skin tougher than the rock mantle of most worlds.

Sitting there today next to an eternal stream the man tended to the damage the world constantly bestowed to the foundation of stone mountains.

He always had much to do and to tend too.

Complaints and pain, sorrows and scorn; never ending, always changing into a new moment of worry and care.

Next to the man on a branch of an oak still in its adolescence, a bird laughed.

Oh my, how the bird giggled and guffawed.

The man gripped his staff tighter. So tight much of his life joined with the wood just as the wood’s life had joined with his.

“Why are you laughing little bird?” The man questioned an obviously amused bird.

The bird still smiled and aside from the laughter, remained silent and stared into the soul of the man and oak staff. This caused the man to blink…

Upon opening his eyes from the blink the man noticed there was no longer an old man holding an old stick, no longer tending to anything, no longer in existence. Instead, the man was now the bird and my goodness how the bird laughed

Flying away from the worlds the bird took flight and sang a song so powerful even the Owls were humble and the geese turned in circles.

Far away in a meadow there was a bird sitting the the growing fresh branches of a young oak tree, together the two would live, laugh, and sing.

Never more would the two care for what did and does not want to be helped. Instead there would be debate on the muses of the Seasons with the crickets now playing in the meadow beneath the bird and oak. There would be the success of flying past the heights of the Sun. There would be frogs and turtles playing cards. Fish learning how to dance on the Moon…

Today.

Today was a new day, a good day, and the laughter was as sweet as the music.

Posted on by robinblipinski

The Ogre and a Cat

Written by: A senile dragon named, Chocolate Pudding

Once upon…well, sometime, there was an ogre who prowled the land. As far as ogres go; not too bad. It once had a partner with another ogre and the partnership turned sour so both ogres went to start separate kingdoms. Each to their own.

The ogre in this story raised elephants, puppies, and had a taste for yellow M&M’s. The life in the ogres kingdom was pretty mellow and laid back. There were slaves to do the work and there were feasts. Oh my, there were feasts. Whole roasted bulls cooked to perfection over a roaring fire and attended by forest creatures such as centaurs, elves, fairies, and once, a rare Unicorn. Dragons however, were not allowed. The ogre detested dragons and the rumor has it that the ogre found the smell of dragons offensive.

I have to pause this story for a few seconds as being a, a, fuck…what am I again? A dragon? Really? Is there any pudding left? (the weird senile creature devoured roughly 600 pounds of pudding and then resumed the story)

Anyway… people respected the ogres kingdom, and for good reason. The ogre was not shy of devouring those who trespassed in the kingdom. Many a knight was added as a snack for the next scheduled feast.

Now, one day the ogre adopted a kitten. A cute little thing. I suppose the kitten may have even been tasty but dragons have better tastes such as pudding, pizza, and chocolate fountains. But for some reason the ogre found the kitten pleasant. The ogre took possession of the cat as if it was the ogres child.

The kitten grew into a wonderful cat and saw the world outside the kingdom was filled with many magical wonders. The cat even saw a dragon flying in search of an open all-you-can-eat buffet. It is common knowledge that owners of Chinese buffets run as fast as they can to turn out the lights and place the ‘closed’ sign on the door before they were literally eaten out of house and home.

Day by the day the cat explored the ogres kingdom and found beauty and wonder in the vast nature. There were owls and trees, magical stars and a talking moon. The very ground vibrated in Life. But, the cat started to feel like a prisoner. The cat wanted to escape the ogres clutch.

The ogre started to sense the cat was yearning for something else and as mentioned earlier, the ogre was not too bad as far as ogres go. However, the ogre would use all the power in her kingdom to keep the cat and all of the wonders of the kingdom intact and under control.

Some of the story is obscure as being a bunny…What? Not a bunny? A dragon? Well, being a dragon there are more important things to attend to then the fate of a cat trapped in an ogres kingdom. I did hear though that a herd of corgis ridden by warrior elves liberated not only the cat but also the one eyed cyclops living in the castle.

Of course…What? An all you can eat buffet just opened up in Portugal? I’m outa here… Oh, and yeah, they all lived happily ever after.

The end.

Posted on by robinblipinski

To add two the ramble too

Taking a pause to reflect on the man in the forest. A man old and secure in his surroundings as he taps the well used pipe crafted to smoke what the winds and clouds provide.

The wafting smoke can be felt as the smoke has a heartbeat. The aroma of the pipe speaks of something called, love. Something the man felt for his world, a world free from the antics of wild ignorant beasts set to toiling and living in a world far removed from his.

Raising his eyes to free the mind from the songs given by the flowing creek as wild trout beat a rhythm along with the hatching nymphs setting permanent the final target.

Puffing deep and exhaling he sees her and she knows him. He and she as different as night and day and both closer than a mother and her child in the womb. Smiling, he spoke to a very tenacious young ladybug who was very full in appetite at the moment. A small and beautiful creature making the world a better place.

She. She is. She always will be. She talks to him constantly even when she is unaware and sleeping in a world were both collide. When she is awake she knows.He is with her forever as there was no other choice or path. This thought caused a chuckle as with attendance the audience of illusions applauded.

Lately the owls have held protest. It is their rights and their responsibility. The old man kept hold of smile and with his left hand, twisted his attitude to a tone subtle and low in resonance. Time of calm in preparation of a cyclone. Already the ground has given opinion. Tides has shown no slack. Even the sun, a sun filled with immense pride, tried its hand.

There will always be others. Those thinking of knowledge and fools. Using their minds as tools without and with the desire of control and ability. To the old man he grimaced at how chaotic such a device is even allowed to exist.

If proof of God even jaded those who try to find reason in any world of heaven or hell they have chosen to exist, it must be pointed out this door can be painted any color, any size, shape, and yet the hinges all are balance as what is, is and always will be just as he/she is.

(When writing in this language it is sometime hard to translate the vibrations and pictures alive, breeding, evolving and thank God, there is the wind.)

If anyone reads this other than eyes of mankind, maybe you too, can understand?

Inside me exists what can be called, Monster or in another way, Saint.

Outside exists the old man and woman he loves.

In between there is only the dreams and pictures.

Now, satisfied all was well in his world, the old man knocked the ashes from his pipe and again smiled as wild honey bees carried the remains away to be made into the finest honey.

Talking stride without doubt as to his age; Eternal Life.

Such a story exists.

Such a story is real.

Two know full well of this story.

And when the sun burns dim and wind calms to a mere whisper,

such a wonderful form of love with not only thrive and prosper…

and yes, you wanted talk and this is what it is.