“Momentum is My Middle Name” – 1 (In Which Our Hero Recounts His Achievements)

Achievements Throughout My Grade School Career

1999 – Elementary School, 5th Grade:

Learned flute, wanted to be ninja.

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2001 – Elementary School Graduation :

Rebellious hormones snaked through my veins.

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2001 – Middle School, “Sevii” (7th grade) Year :

Puberty struck. Voice deepened. Spoke less.

Dropped flute, picked up alto saxophone.

Girls experimented with miniskirts and heels.

Boys experimented with girls. Me? Nope.

Best friends dubbed “faggot” and “bitch”.

Got cell phone. Got new friends.

Was accused of homosexuality. Frankly, “wtf”.

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2003 – Middle School Graduation :

High school, don’t you fail me.

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2004 – Freshman Year of High School :

Learned tennis. Broke racket. Forgot tennis.

Bought bassoon. Semester ended. Lost bassoon.

Took French. Couldn’t pronounce. Class dropped.

Joined Kung Fu. Became deadly ninja.

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2005 – Sophomore Year, High School :

Studied art. Paintbrushes donated to charity.

Became President. Fed up with leading.

Dropped Kung Fu. Got drop kicked.

Became a hardass. Became an introvert.

Pissed off all teachers. Damn puberty.

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2006 – Junior Year, High School :

Was hardass. Rejected all. Became nihilist.

Ran away. Got mugged. Scampered home.

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2006 – Senior Year, High School :

Puberty wore off, cheeks grew hairy.

Got motorcycle, reflected my impetuous nature.

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2007 – I graduated. Had breakdown. Got whiskey.

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And there it went.

My youth, now long gone, easily recanted in a skimpy timeline. My handful of days after graduation were largely spent in melancholy, wasting time and effort in failed attempts at expression. There’s not much to be said about my future, either. I had not done well enough to get into college – or rather, I didn’t care enough to, now leaving me unemployed and desperate.

What exactly had I accomplished these 18 years? Definitely not much in the “Activities” sector, no.

Then, perhaps in my love life?…

A Chronicle of My Romantic Escapades

1996 – Second Grade, Elementary School :

First crush. Never even told her.

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2001 – Seventh Grade, Middle School :

First pubescent crush. I became depressed.

Hung out with girls. Never dated.

Had first kiss. Stayed “Just Friends”.

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2004 – Freshman Year, High School :

Soul searching : girlfriend wanted. No replies.

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2005 – Sophomore Year, High School :

Year-long rainy season. Home alone.

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2006 – Junior Year, High School :

Rainy weather. One hot cocoa, please.

Skipped prom. Skipped romance. Skipped adolescence.

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2007 – Senior Year, High School:

Got drunk, got laid, got disappointed.

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… So, come on! That was quite interesting, was it not? There’s plenty of room for speculation in there, amongst my six-word memoirs.

But that speculation doesn’t actually count for depth so much as it contributes to ambiguity. The facts must be faced: I’ve wasted these 18 years of my life. I guess my love life hasn’t turned out quite the way I’d expected it to, either.

So who the hell have I been kidding? There’s nothing extraordinary about myself, save for my bike, and my stubborn attitude.

But no – I take that back. I had something else in store for me.

2008 – Unemployed, Year One :

Spotted love. Chased my guts out.

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NaNoWriMo… COMMENCE!! Installation #1 of “European Desert”

“Hey man, don’t open that freezer door. There’s a 3-month old Mexican popsicle that’s been renting it out, and he’s got a baaaaad attitude, dude.”

- – -

Terry Padgett was having a hard time coping with her recent streak of bad luck. The boy she had met over the summer, so sweet and oh-so-”hip”, had failed her. After years of mediocre life on the bottom rung of the high school social ladder, Terry was determined not to repeat the same mistake in college. Not surprisingly though, she had developed a rather eccentric insecurity trigger over her four torturous years of high school. Her insecurity, when coupled with Terry’s PMS, made for a volatile amalgamation.

Terry had been leaning on her first date with Brett (the boy she met) as an inauguration into the world sororities, wild college parties, and the privilege of bearing a “popular” social status. Brett had picked her up in a stunning, gleaming BMW E46 M3 coupe, punctual and sharply dressed. Meanwhile, Terry had finally managed to wrestle her hair down, at the expense of a few cans’ worth of aerosol expelled into the atmosphere. Donning a dangerously short (for Terry, that is) skirt, she awkwardly entered Brett’s car, only to discover awkward silence within.

Things were not going so well – she was constantly compelled to nervously tug at her skirt, the M3′s exhaust was horrendously rancorous, the harsh ride quality agitated her spine, and for Terry… it was “that” time of month again. Tension welled up within her, and her bottom lip quivered slightly. Things soon became disastrous as Brett attempted to break through the reverberating tones of six pumping cylinders.

“So Terry, your last name’s Page, righ-”

At this, Terry broke out in sobs, uncomfortably gasping out “STOP” a few times. Brett, bewildered, pulled off the freeway into the fluorescent white light of a gas station. Inside the car, Terry turned away from Brett, trying to hide her face against the window as much as possible. Within the next few moments, all hell broke loose. Brett reached out for Terry’s arm in an attempt to comfort her, but only managing to incite shrieks mingled with “STOP!!”. Terry swung open the passenger-side door, and clambered hastily out of the cabin. Unused to wearing heels, she twisted her ankle and fell against the car, her belt buckle scraping down against the gleaming black bodywork. The sound of metal against metal switched off all chivalrous mannerisms within Brett’s mind, instantly pumping red hot blood through his veins. He scrambled out of his car, running over to the passenger side to examine the damage. Holding his head in his hands, Brett began cursing unintelligibly at Terry, eventually letting one last high pitched “RRRRRRRRRGH!” and tearing out of the gas station, tires squealing.

And there Terry was left, sitting down against a gas pump, her skin waxy yellow under bright, energy-efficient lighting, her dreams dashed to pieces.

- – -

“I said, DON’T open the freezer door!” the man called out anxiously. A short, slightly chubby, lightly bearded man in his early twenties hobbled over a couch over to the refrigerator door, casually blocking Terry and leaning against the fridge at the same time. “Don’t open it!” he reprimanded, wagging an index finger at Terry.

“Oh, wow, you’re uhm – fast.” Terry gibbered out, bottom lip quivering dangerously. “I’m Terry, y-your new roommate.” She awkwardly held her left hand up for a handshake, breaking out in a forced, sheepish grin. Her roommate, nose held up in the air, held up his left hand and returned her handshake, before kindly showing Terry a path away from the freezer.

Good fortune? Blasphemy. For Terry Padgett, her college life has yet to see a hint of a smile upon Lady Luck’s lips.

LMS – Regulation #5: I Smell a Scandal.. and Cheap Perfume

A storm was approaching Southern California. Specifically, the remnants of a Baja California Hurricane. TV stations went bonkers, blaring reports every half hour. The atmosphere was electric – and it energized me. My parents actually called me, screaming at me in a mixture of incomprehensible engsian (1) through the phone. “ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT. JUST LISTEN TO THIS!” I hollered, holding the phone up to the TV speakers. The NBC4 news was on.

Elita Loresca: “… so all you folks rest assured, because we’ll only be experiencing heavy rainfall, with slight winds – nothing like what Florida’s been getting…”

“Did’ya hear that, mom?” I said, before hanging up.

Of course she didn’t hear that. She was still screaming when I hung up.

 

I moved back to my kitchen stool, guitar-in-hand. Softly, unplugged on an electric guitar, I played out the melody to “Blackbird” by the Beatles. The music permeated through the room… emanating out into the grey world. 

- – - – - – - – - – - – - - 

It’s days like these that make me feel energized. I decided to take a walk, donned in an orange poncho. 

Slight wind swept across campus, bringing sweeping waves of misty rain. For the first time, in a LONG long time, the sprawling campus was empty. Most students and teachers were shacked up indoors, failing to appreciate the outstanding weather. 

A freshman came running across the grass with his Great Dane alongside. 

“HEY, WHAT’S YOUR NAME?” I shouted at him.

“NORVILLE!”, he replied. I pointed the way towards the dormitories, and told him to hurry up. “What are you doing out here, then?!” he asked.

“I’M SOLVING A MYSTERY!!” I yelled. Norville nodded knowingly, and scrambled comically towards the dormitories, his feet slipping on the muddy grass. I plodded on ahead towards the “Table”, disappearing into the mist.

- – - – - – - – - – - – -

My trusty poncho had served me well. I was relatively dry when I reached the “Table”. Someone – rather, Lennon, was sitting there. I tipped my head in greetings, and sat down on the table – partly because the chairs were wet, and partly because I preferred sitting like this. The rain swept gustily to greet us. 

There we sat – comedy gold. A tall asian in an orange poncho and a short white kid  sipping ice-cold colas in a rainstorm. Soon enough, I began to feel cold. The wind grew stronger, and the rain came down in big, fat droplets that could take your eye out. 

“Ayup. I guess I’d best be going now” I yelled over the wind. Lennon nodded, unfolded his umbrella, and strode away. Learning from him, I decided to take the table’s umbrella with me to shield me from rain.

It was massive – 5 and a half feet in diameter. I hoisted it over my right shoulder, effectively shielding me from the rain. My plan didn’t work out quite as well as I thought it would, though. A pause between gusts knocked the umbrella off balance, and before I knew it – the wind had picked up the umbrella in its grasps, with me holding on for dear life. I was tossed about in midair for a few seconds, before I saw a rapidly approaching building. I closed my eyes, and held on for dear life.

 

And ah- What luck! The wind directed me straight through a window, into an empty office.

Or at least I thought it was empty.

 

The headmaster stood in the shadows, holding a woman in his arms. The woman was skimpily dressed, but judging from the amount of fat and loose skin around her neck and arms, I’d say she was in her mid-fourties. And then I caught a whiff of her perfume. A gust of wind just to happened to direct a sample of her scent flying towards my face.

Oh, god. I was inundated by an explosion of cheap perfume inside my nose. It smelled metallic, sticky, and smoky – She smelled like a robot. 

Huckerhorn pushed her behind him, and reared on me. He lunged forward, right arm swinging wide for a hook – and I stepped in towards him, directing my palm into his chest. I stepped back, horrified, and scrambled the hell out of there.

 

Then I stopped, turned back – retrieved my umbrella- and then proceeded to run away.

 

(1) Engsian = A mixture of english and an Asian language of your choice. Like Spanglish.

 

LMS – Regulation #4: Fishing is a Man’s Soul (Harry Potter does it, why can’t I?)

A heavy wooden door slammed closed.

I was “helped” into a chair by two men with no eyebrows and short brown hair. “You may leave”, an old man with frizzy, silver hair said to the guards.

 

The headmaster gave me a solemn look across his grand, oaken table. “Do you know why you are here, Jack?”

“I could guess, yeah” I replied. – “It confuses me though. Rex is of no significance. All he does is hang around the dance studio, and harass girls. Why should I be castigated for disciplining him?”

“That is of none of your concern”.

 

The headmaster and I exchanged glares for a few seconds.

“Say, why do you have such a big desk?” I asked. ”I’m a busy man”, he replied.

“Your name’s Huckerhorn. Nobody would take you seriously.” I retorted. ”Might you be ‘overcompensating’ for something else with that desk of yours?”

I leaped off my chair as if electrified. An uncannily sharp dagger-shaped letter opener flew at me. “Sir!” I cried. “You’re not setting a good example!”

 

Vases, books, paperweights, and jars of paper clips chased after me as I fled the headmaster’s office.

 

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -

 

Soon after my run-in with our headmaster, my Regulation license was suspended for two weeks. During that time, I found numerous other things to do. I wrote, I read, I drew, I played music, I listened to music, and I movie-hopped for days, amongst other things. Most importantly, I grew ever more and more lost. Work, along with my tendency to analyze, are my two sole constants. One cannot exist peacefully without the other. If I should work too hard, and forget to analyze, then I would fall into a pit of monotony, utterly unaware of my situation. Should I lose my “work”, I would analyze far too much and fall into a pit of confusion and depression. 

Upon the second to last day of my suspension, I discovered a set of fishing tackle formerly owned by my grandfather. Fishing probably couldn’t be THAT hard… I figured. I spent the rest of the night digging around for worms, in preparation for tomorrow morning. 

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - -

 

This morning started to the tune of Black Rebel Motorcycle Club.

I had my fishing tackle, my headphones, my iPod, and a dorky hat. There didn’t seem to be any need for me to change my attire. Hell, I felt as if I could go to war wearing the same clothes I usually wear. Harry Potter does it, why can’t I?

The on-campus lake was regularly stocked with fish, and featured numerous fishing spots along with loaner boats. The lake was about half a mile wide, and 3/4 of a mile long. A light drizzle dampened the mood of the morning. I sat alone in a small boat, a lone figure in an orange poncho adorning the center of a gray world. A mist slowly began to set in. It rolled in inconspicuously. Before I realized, it had tightly clenched me within it’s grasp. I relished in this atmosphere, absorbing the mood.

Sitting here, alone in this small boat leaves oneself with an excess of time at hand. I did not contemplate, though. I did not analyze, I didn’t ponder, nor did I peruse through the archives of my mind. The atmosphere percolated through me, refreshing and renewing. There was no need for me to search for an answer – understanding came to me. 

And with that epiphany came a light tug on my line. I quickly reeled in my line, raising my rod above my right ear in an attempt to hurry up the process. A silvery flash caught my eye, making feeble splashes in the water.

I raised my catch to eye level, watching a small, small fish wriggle about. It was scarcely larger than my index finger, in both girth and length. His gills dilated and contracted, it’s feeble body yearning for fresh water.

Smiling to myself, I carefully freed the fish. 

That would be all for today.

 

 

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - -

 

Hidden by the fog, a figure bent over the dock. He looked into the depths of the water as a small silver fish flashed by beneath him. Wild black hair peeked out from beneath his fisherman’s hat. This was truly, a man in his natural element. 

Two Suns In The Sunset

An adaptation of a song title into a depressing short story(Please Don’t Sue Me Song Writer!!!!). Let’s call the main character….Paul? idk…..

The lights were dim in Paul’s apartment. He was watching the news on his average sized television. The reporter was talking about the same story that had everyone’s attention for the past month. The U.S., China, Russia, France, England, Pakistan, India, North Korea, and Israel were all furious with each other. They were ready to break out into open warfare. WWIII was inevitable. The world was in a terrifying state. Many resources had run out. The forests were gone. The mines were empty. All the oil had been used. Purified water was hard to find. Things were falling apart as the countries argued over the scarce leftovers they could find.

Paul watched the chaos from his tiny one bedroom apartment. He had remembered an old man dressed in black telling him of the holocaust to come. No one thought things like this would happen in their lifetime. But it had to happen sometime. Paul shrugged it off. After all, many had “predicted” events such as this before. All were wrong.

As he watched. He thought of what “the end” would be like. He thought of his family and friends, the girl he was dating, the bills he had to pay, and other things that were a part of his life. Were they really important?

The hour was late, and he decided to stop watching the depressing story and go to bed. His head was crazy with thought, but he soon felt the wonderful bliss of unconsciousness. As he awoke for work the next day, reality came back to him. He had a wonderful dream. In the dream, he had a wonderful house and a beautiful woman by his side. They stood on the front porch. In front of the house, there was nothing but lush flowers, trees, and other beautiful looking plants as far as the eye could see. It was the early morning in the dream, and there was a beautiful dew that covered all the plants. It made them shine brightly. As he proceeded to walk into the field of wonder, he was abruptly interrupted by his alarm.

He got dressed and went to work. As he drove to work, he began thinking about all the things that had gone wrong in the world that lead to this great conflict. He thought of racism, political conflicts, greed, hunger, and war. He thought of why people do the horrible things they do. As he pulled up to his workplace. He quickly shut these thoughts out of his head. He went into a machine like state as he did his job. Not knowing what the importance of the job was to mankind. Just doing it.

When it was time to clock out, he returned to his normal state of mind. He drove home thinking of the same things he had thought about on the way to work. He had worked overtime and was tired. As he drove on the empty freeway, the sun was setting. When it finally went down, he enjoyed the nice, cool, peaceful feel of the night.

Suddenly, a few minutes later, he saw the sun rise up behind him in his rear view mirror. He was startled and almost ran off the road. He couldn’t believe the sun was coming back up. As he drove and watched the sun with great interest in his rear view mirror, he realized it was getting closer. Then another sun appeared far to his left. Then another one to his right. Suddenly there was suns springing up all around in the distance. Paul was so frightened, he floored the gas pedal and took off. Not knowing where to go. The sun was faster than him though, and it was getting closer. Paul suddenly realized it wasn’t the sun. He realized it was over. The end had come. Everything seemed to slow down around him. His life flashed before his eyes. He thought of how he’d never see his loved ones again.

And then, the most beautiful epiphany suddenly came to him. It was a warm and lovely feeling. He realized he never had to obey society’s rules. That he was his own man. He suddenly embraced death. Death WAS the great equalizer! He realized that race, religion, and everything REALLY didn’t matter! “We were all equal in the end…” he said. With a broken, smile. Tears began rolling down his face, but evaporated almost instantly as the flames engulfed everything. It was FINALLY over….

LMS – Regulation #3 : Enter Rex

I awoke to a swelling pain in my left knee AND my left wrist. Glancing down, I saw an IV sticking into my arm. Upon closer observation, I noticed that whomever had IV’d me, they did it incorrectly and missed the vein. “Tch.” I ripped off the tape and pulled out the needle, setting it aside on a nearby table. I clambered out of the hospital bed, feeling an unusual breeze go between my legs just as I was about to climb out the window.

I paused, reconsidered, and clambered back into my room. Glancing around, I noticed my clothes neatly folded up on a chair.

 

…

 

So after putting on some respectable clothes, I proceeded to climb out my window. The door clicked behind me, and a nurse entered.

She gasped, dropped her clipboard, and stepped backwards out of the doorway.

“Wait,” I said. “How did I get here?”

“Well, er, you were found sprawled out in front of the main doors.” she replied.

“Awesome. Thanks.” I replied, before hopping down off the windowsill. My knee gave out again when I landed, but I rolled into it in order to save face.

Damn, I felt cool. Who the hell left me at the on-campus hospital’s doorstep, though?

 

 - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -

 

Today was Wednesday. The one day of the week when I usually go to class. Today, I chose to go to Science Class. There was a laboratory experiment today. I instantly regretted my decision to take Science today.

For in the same class, was Rex – probably my sworn enemy. I say “probably” here because, well… He’s not exactly the most CUNNING of nemeses. Not the strongest, nor the most talented. Malice and delusion are all that he has. All in all, I only want to kill him very, very badly because he annoys me. 

He’s a real unique one, that he is. It’s hard to find people like him, who live in SUCH fabricated worlds, built from a structure of lies. He says he plays drums – HOWEVER, he gave away his drumset to his cousin. So does he really play drums? No, not as far as I’m concerned. He says he dances, but he doesn’t partake in any activities that involve dancing. So does he really DANCE? Not as far as I’m concerned.

YET, he insists that he dances, and that he plays drums. This type of behavior.. truly makes me want to crush his head. He arouses my Barbaric intent from deep within the double helix of my DNA. It gives me a hard time, especially when I have to carefully handle chemicals in a laboratory environment.

The science teacher was about as tall as I am. Pale skin, rather gaunt, with shockingly black hair parted in the middle. His name was Dr.Chape (pronounced  ”shape”), and he was unnaturally unsuspecting and imperceptive.

Today, the teacher assigned a girl named Dana as my partner, a paranoid, schizophrenic fangirl who’s blissfully unaware of the world. I believe the proper term to use in a situation like this… should be : “F.M.L.”, no? Meanwhile, Alex Rex was partnered up with some no-name freshman. 

It seems that today should be going well enough. Rex was unusually reserved today, and so was my partner. Dana was reserved in more of a “I don’t give a shxt about this project so you can just go do it” kind of way, though.

FML?

FML confirmed. I ended up doing the project by myself, whilst Dana talked to herself (or imaginary Visual Kei rockstars) at a corner of the lab table. 

Suddenly, without warning… My Rex radar went off. 

I looked up to see him “Hip-Bumping” one of my fellow Juniors. She yelped, and accidentally tipped over a beaker of water onto herself. I didn’t know the girl too well. All I knew was that she rode horses. But upon seeing Rex commit such atrocities before the all-seeing eye of (1)”Saujon”, my blood boiled like the water in my beaker. I calmed myself by taking a few deep breaths… – and snapping the clipboard I was holding in two. 

As the girl left the room, I saw Rex tail her, trying his best to look inconspicuous.

I raised my hand, showing the two pieces of the clipboard, and motioned outside at the teacher. He nodded. 

I swiftly ran out into the hallway, where I saw Rex disappearing behind a corner. My Rex Radar knew the way.

 

I was no longer human. I am a F1 car. I am the epitome of automotive technology, capable of producing over 3 G’s of force during cornering.

I blazed through the corner, and spotted Rex embracing the girl in an odd Heimlich maneuver. She caught my eye, an intensely worried expression on her face. I leaped, carefully avoiding a collision with both of them, and beaned Alex Rex in the head with my right fist. It happened all in slow motion. I saw ripples form on his skin spreading out from the point of contact. His mouth gaped open with a dull look in his eyes while his neck swung sideways.

(Back to normal speed)

The girl wrenched herself free, and I hastened her away. Alex, having now recovered, gave off an odd combination of yelp, squeal, and scream as he barreled towards me.

I wish I could have seen myself take action… I brought my right hand up, next to my shoulder, and then whipped it across Rex’s face. He abruptly changed direction, having been knocked off course by my disciplinary hand. Rex ran into a wall, bounced off, and lay in a heap on the floor, breathing heavily. I wasn’t done yet, however. 

I grabbed him by the front of his bright, lime green shirt and pulled him up to his feet. Grinning, I threw an uppercut into his chest, aiming for his solar plexis. His mouth gaped open, and I once again slapped his face aside, catching him by the scruff of his neck. Gasping sounds came out from his mouth, along with quite a bit of partially digested food. 

Considering my work done, I released him into his own vomit, and strutted away. In the distance, I heard bass booming, along with the faint words : 

“You know how the Dogg roll, don’t get it twisted ’cause he bang out the East just in case you wanna visit…”

 

 

Notes:

(1) “Saujon” is a reference to “Sauron”, the all-seeing eye of Sauron that looms above Mordor in “The Lord of the Rings”.

LIFE

This is a story about a man’s journey through the life cycle. The beginning to the end.

The story begins in a hospital somewhere in California. A mother has just given birth to her first child. The doctor announces “It’s a boy.” as he hands it to the new mother. She embraces the wailing baby and gently touches its nose. After holding the baby for some time, she gives it to the new father. He holds the baby carefully. He was nervous, but excited. He looked at the baby. He felt an amazing feeling of love and the need to protect the newborn as he should.

Years went by, and the baby soon became 10 years old. As he walked out of his little house in a suburb, he thought about where he would go. He decided to go to the little candy shop on the corner. On his way there, he came across an old homeless man. The boy had never seen a homeless man before, and did not know how to react. So he walked past him. But as he passed the homeless man, the man touched his arm. The boy was scared. The homeless man asked if he had any change. The boy replied “My mom and dad told me not to give money to homeless people.” A tear fell out of the poor, broken man’s eye. He looked up at the sky. And said to himself, “Is this right? Is this how the world should be? Are we not supposed to help people in need?” The boy said he had to go and left with a heavy feeling in his heart. He thought “Why would my parents tell me not to help a poor man…?”

A few more years went by and the boy was 17. He had a girlfriend and a cheap car. He no longer saw adults as the super heroes they appeared to be when he was younger. One day, his girlfriend asked him if they would ever get married. He was not ready for that commitment. He lied to her and told her yes. And then they made love. He felt like an adult. He thought he knew it all. Then graduation day came. His parents had a proud look on their faces as he was called up to receive his diploma. A few days later he left for college. He had broken up with his girlfriend before leaving as he thought he would meet better girls in college.

Four more years passed and he was 22 and considered himself a man. He was ready to start his career, he had a new girlfriend he had met in college, and things seemed great. They moved into a house together and soon after, they got engaged. The wedding was a happy event. The new bride and groom posed for pictures and smiled. They said their vows, danced, and kissed. The man’s father proudly smiled and his mother cried tears of joy.The man was very happy with his life.

A few years after the ceremony,the man had also become a parent. He too felt the love his parents had for him. He  was still working at his same job. He sat in his office and typed away at his computer as he always did Monday through Friday. He hated it. His wife would stay at home and clean, take care of the baby, and prepare dinner. She hated it. This is how they spent their days. They would both be tired by the time they got home. They would ask each other how their day was as they ate. Barely paying attention to each other. When they would make love, there was something missing. It was not like it had used to be. At night, the man would look at his wife as she slept, wondering what had happened. He began to see all her faults.  He couldn’t find the spark that was once there. Day after day, their love withered away. Soon they didn’t talk at all. They would simply do their daily tasks and go to bed. They would argue over insignificant things as well. Divorce was inevitable.

They soon had their divorce. The man was now 40. The child would visit him on weekends and stay with his mother the rest of the time.  The man bought himself a nice car to compensate. He would go through other failed relationships until he was 60.

His son was married by now and off on his own. The man had remarried another woman he had met on an online dating site. She was his soul mate. He lived happily with her until age 75. She died of heart failure. His parents had died a few years back as well. He was alone. The man was sad, but accepted it. He too knew he was not long for this world. He had a tumor growing in his right lung. He lied in bed alone every night. He would get an occasional visit from his son who now had a child of his own. He would put on a fake smile and pretend to be happy old grandpa while they visited. But after they left. He would sit down in his chair by the fireplace and cry.

More years went by. He was now 85. He now lived in a hospital. He had few days to live. He was hooked up to life support machines all day. His son and his family were the only people that visited. He felt embarrassed. He knew that his son didn’t see him as a superhero anymore. He still cried at night. Silently, so that no one could hear him. Finally he felt the last bits of life slip out of him. He saw a light. He was cold. His life flashed before his eyes. He saw his mother holding him in the maternity ward, the old homeless man, his high school sweetheart, his wedding, his son’s birth, the day he got divorced, his son’s wedding, his 2nd marriage, his grandson’s birth, and his wife’s death. He had realized, that life was meaningless. He realized that in the end, none of the things he had done had mattered. Then the images stopped. He saw nothing. He only heard the faint sound of the flat line signal before he drifted off into oblivion.

FIN……

LMS – Regulation #2: Lennon Whitley

I began my investigation on a bad day.

After waking up in the morning, I went to my dorm shower and hit my head on the bar running across the top of the stalls. I hit it hard enough to cut open my scalp. Too bad I didn’t notice before I washed my hair. So, after quite a bit of cursing and kicking, I rinsed the blood away and walked back to my dorm with blood trickling down my back.

I leaned over my iPod speakers, about to play some music in the morning, when a trickle of blood dripped off my cheek, and fell into the speakers, shorting them out. I cursed, and threw the speakers out the window, screaming mindlessly and scaring quite a number of Freshmen.

 

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -

 

The air was cool and brisk as I walked out of the dormitory doors. I had a simple track jacket on, perfect for the weather. On the way out, I noticed the wreckage of my iPod speakers on the lawn. The shape of my iPod stood solid, amidst the jumble of plastic and wiring. It seemed to have escaped my wrath unscathed. I picked it up, went back indoors, and got my headphones.

Today’s investigation started to the tune of David Bowie.

 

I first visited numerous sites across the campus, where the letters “LMS” had been scrawled onto the walls. These areas were primarily staircases – High traffic areas, no doubt. I spent the rest of my morning questioning several students, to no avail. The “Men” were doing a good job of keeping it on the down-low. Having tired of searching about, I took my lunch hour at my favorite table on the East edge of campus. It was a circular wooden picnic table, worn smooth from years of use. Now, however, I was its only regular occupant. The crowds that once loitered here had moved on, leaving behind only names and symbols etched into the wood. Nearby, a pair of vending machines stood next to a bench, along the side of a small path leading here. I perched on the edge of the table, crouched in a relaxed pose. My neck began to stiffen up, and I looked up towards the sky to try and relax my neck muscles.

A thunk echoed from nearby, followed by another thunk. I sat up, and saw a rather short caucasian teenager with glasses approaching me, a can of Coca-Cola in each hand. 

“S’your name?”

“Lennon,” he replied. “Lennon Whitley”.

“What brings you here on this fine day?” I asked.

“Well, I should ask you the same thing.” he said, as he offered me a Coke, while pulling out a Twix bar from his pocket.

 

An awkward silence followed.

 

Only the rush of wind through the nearby trees, and the crinkle of a Twix wrapper disturbed our stubborn silence. I finished my Coke, thanked him, and went on my way. Within 500 feet of the Table, I spotted a group of teenagers loitering around the stairwell entrance of the Abandoned East Edge Laboratory. “HEY, YOU!” I hollered, breaking out into a sprint. My legs swung out beneath me, propelling me forward at astonishing speeds. I felt my body lighten, and my legs speed up. Before I knew it, I went down a hill practically flying. The truants saw me approaching, and quickly fled into the building. The metal door slammed shut with a resounding THUD. I dashed up to the door, only to find it locked. I kicked and rammed to no avail – There was something barring the door from behind. So, I ran to the back of the building, breaking in through a window.

I emerged into a former science classroom, bereft of chairs, containing only a mosaic of fixed laboratory tables. Feeling adventurous, and (dare I say) – daring, I planted one hand onto a table and vaulted myself over.

My beautiful plan hit a snag, though. Instead of flawlessly executing a Parkour maneuver and looking extremely cool, my foot hit the corner of the table mid-flight, causing me to fall down awkwardly on my left knee. My eyes watering in pain, I pulled myself up and hobbled out of the classroom, headed for the stairwell. 

It turned out to be empty as well. Cursing and spitting, I began my slow descent down the stairs.

After having taken a flight of stairs rather well, I grew a tad bit more confident, and sped up my descent. That’s when I came down onto my knee at a wrong angle, lost all energy in my legs, and tumbled down headfirst. My noggin’ struck the edge of the hand rail, and I was knocked out cold.

LMS – Regulation #1: Of Montecito.

Rumours spread across the campus. Soft whispers of a rebellious group of youths were murmured in dark corners, empty alleyways, and scribbled across the walls. This behavior was brought to the eyes of the Regulatory Student Council – the department in which I serve. 

I fancy myself a peacemaker. A Cop, in a way, although I’d like to be referred to as a Sheriff. Sheriff… of Montecito Hills Academy. 

The school that I attend, Montecito Hills Academy, is the largest, most influential school west of the Mississippi river. Our high school section alone has over 13,000 students currently attending. When combined with the Middle school and Elementary school branches, we number over 30,000 strong. The High School section has an elite student body, consisting of the school’s top students, best athletes, and the children of highly influential people. Benefits are granted to this “Upper Echelon”. Our school has it’s own private governing body, exercising jurisdiction over school grounds. Numerous crimes have been committed by the Upper Echelon, but legal action has not been taken – due to the fact that all crimes were committed on-campus. 

I could give less of a horse’s ass about that though. I only serve under the Regulatory Student Council for the benefits. I, myself, hold a rather prestigious position – Sophomore President of the Regulatory Student Council. It works out pretty well for me. I get easy girls, free food, easy grades, and all the free time in the world.

Sort of.

I’ve still got superiors, and they occasionally order me to investigate into occurrences which might threaten the authority of the School’s governing body. 

This time, I was to look into an improperly classified “gang group organization” called “Los Masculinos”.

“The Men”, eh?

LMS – Prologue

This is a tragedy. A tale of several brave men, many of whom fell whilst facing adversity. I, myself, am one of the few survivors of the “Gopez Crackdown”, or the “Extermination”. But don’t worry, the resistance still lives. In order to properly comprehend the situation, you must first study the history of our former organization, “Los Masculinos”. 

This is a tale of rebellion; of hate, of betrayal, of greed and desire, of rivalries, of camaraderie, and of youth. I present to you…

“Los Masculinos” – “The Men”.