September 26, 2011
“Same, same”
I live my life, one day at a time. A good portion of my days are routine; I wake up, take a shower, eat breakfast if I can, and then walk to work. Work, oh work, exciting as a tortoise marathon. Walked into my workplace in business attire as usual, clocked in as usual, and watched over the employees as they help the customers…as usual, again very exciting. And when work was over, I clocked out, and then strolled on home. Didn’t really feel like visiting my friends, then again I hardly ever do, except for poker nights (you’ll know you’ve hit rock bottom when “all in” means putting in your blue M&Ms).
“I’m here” seems pointless to say every time I walk through my front door. But…it keeps their memory alive. “Hello mom, hello dad.” Was like talking to a silver-framed headstone.
From start to finish from the doorway to headquarters, I unslung my bag lazily onto the floor, unzipped my jacket, pulled the silk boa constrictor from around my neck, and relaxed the laces on my boots as my ass made itself comfortable my office chair. Alright then, what to do…let’s see…maybe some Modern Warfare 2 will past the time. Rotated 90 degrees west, pressed the Guide button on the controller, and listened to the green X echo on the screen. I haven’t really gotten around improving my training pit score, so I started on that level, S.S.D.D.
S.S.D.D., Same Shit, Different Day, boy was that my life in a nutshell. With each run my time never seemed to improve; 0:50, 1:03, 0:48, 3:14 (batteries died), and then 0:46. “Forty-six seconds FLAT! As usual.” Turning off the console, I turned my self toward the computer and did the one thing that made life still worth living, watching My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic.
Probably thinking, “I’m sorry what was that did you say, My Little Pony?” I’m a closet brony, and you probably questioning again, “Brony?” Brony is a name for us adult dudes who like the show My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic, a closet brony (like me) is one who well, keeps to himself. A lot of bronies will tell you the same generic reasons for loving the show. The story isn’t extremely girly, has a lot of intelligence for a kids show, I LOVE THE ANIMATON and so on, but for me…
It’s the colors. The brightness of it all, alive with friendship and innocence, brings you back to a time when the world was great. My mother began painting once the city began falling apart; she made the world here beautiful on canvas. In my parents’ bedroom hung my mother’s (and mine) favorite painting; a lone parking garage overrun by flora, surrounded by a lush green grassland with the sky clear as day with no cloud in sight. Stretching over the scene, was a magnificent rainbow. I guess if anyone were to ask, that is why I think Rainbow Dash is best pony, because she reminds me of that painting.
I continued from where I left off after the intro scene of the episode because I stayed up this morning, almost made me late. Season 1, Episode 27 – “Weather or Not, Here I Come”, where Rainbow Dash was just shot into sky by Twilight’s spell, and from there I drifted into sleep…
I awoke at a thunderous roll that boomed in the distance, sounded like it came from the middle of town. Looking at the clock, “1:00 in the morning? It’s only been 3 hours! Bah.” Too lazy to inquire, I sunk back into my pillow.
September 27, 2011
“Uproar”
Now able to keep my eyes open, I hastily went through my routine to see what all the fuss was about yesterday. Flicked through the channels fully dressed in the living room; Fox, CNN, the local weather channel, but I found nothing (which by now you know is as usual). Maybe at work I’ll find out, if I can make it.
Panting furiously, I clocked in with few seconds to spare. “I seriously have got to set a bedtime.” Everyone seemed fine at the store; I don’t think the storm was much of a big deal. Registers went about with their calculations, customers went about buying what they need, hooded people went about buying sacks of carrots—what? This man seemed to believe there to be a one person max policy in the vegetable section, as he left whenever someone else approached and then come back when vacant. I’m aware of those MMA fighter types that like to wear their hoodies up, but this guy seemed suspicious.
Wait a minute, loud noise in the night, suspicious man trying to be alone in a public place, maybe he’s a bomber! Or maybe not, yes—no, AGH…I’ll just ask. Maneuvering past the produce, I tapped him on the shoulder.
“Can I help you?” Funny as hell, that spooked his ass. Eyes locked (or my eyes locked to the tip of his hood), my feet together and his anxious to run, it seemed like a good minute has been stretched like taffy.
“No no, I’m fine thank you” said the customer, a bit quietly though.
“Oh okay, if you need anything, feel free to ask me or any of our employees.”
“Yeah-thanks” he said. I walked right past the customer, and after a good few feet, I turned around and saw the customer gone. Maybe he has a fat bunny that eats lots of carrots and the storm just rattled him a bit. How stupid was I? Really, like a bomber would leave a bomb in a pile of carrots. Looked at my watch and realized it was quitting time for me, so I punched my time card and left.
Houses lay vacant, children no longer plays in the fields, businesses are monotone; as much as I love walking, a new view wouldn’t hurt. How I wish I could paint over this city as my mother could paint this city over canvas. According to legend, this place wasn’t always so devoid of activity; my parents lived in those times, and only pictures that I’ve seen in old restaurants serve as the only memorials to that image. My mother and father lived happy, and wished the same for me growing up. Sadly, I cannot say I have achieved that wish of theirs.
While walking home I stopped in mid-thought when I noticed a crap load of garbage in my way. “The nerve of some people” I muttered as I picked up the scattered litter. During my younger years, I tried to do what I could for the community. I’d pick up trash when I saw it, or I’d attempt to help my neighbors. It was a losing battle; I’ve given up any hope of cleaning this city, much less my neighborhood. Now I’ll just pass the trash by, letting it blow away in the breeze or sit there and decompose. But today for some reason I felt generous, yep, something’s off today.
“Alright finished” I said, satisfied that this piece of concrete is clean, only to notice more garbage that just magically appeared. “Are you-FFFFFFFFffffff, alright, going home.” I tried, there is no point in trying anymore. People don’t change. Reluctantly dragging my feet toward home, I fished the key out of my pockets, opened the door into my last ritual of the day.
You know the drill; I unslung my bag lazily onto the floor, unzipped my jacket, pulled the silk boa constrictor from around my neck, and relaxed the laces on my boots as my ass made itself comfortable my office chair.
The internet is life’s time killer, murdering most of the night while I browsed Equestria Daily (the central station for bronies) and my deviantArt page. Fan drawings, PMVs (Pony Music Videos), fan fiction, your usual cult assortment. Like when watching an episode of My Little Pony, I felt the deep abyss in my heart looking at the bright colors on-screen. I recoil a bit at the bright colors, the joyful faces of the ponies, and the peaceful scenery of their world. It’s so hard to look at that beautiful world, having it so close to my grasp; I reach out to touch its warm colors and bright, smiling faces of the ponies. Only to be stopped by my computer screen.
“Did it again, ow my nose.” Time to turn in, I shut down the computer and went to bed. Like I said, I’m not letting ponies make late for work again. Wish I could buy a Rainbow Dash plushie so that I could, erm, cuddle with it instead of this old lion toy. Looked up Rainbow Dash plushies on Google, could only find them on ebay and you know what, they are expensive as hell! If I had one, I’d protect it for dear life, like a father shielding his child from danger, the only joy of life left in the world for him. Holding up my toy, I said, “You’ll have to do.”
September 28, 2011
“The Road Less Traveled”
I might as well have glued my watch to my face. My dad once told me staring at something won’t make anything go faster, whether it is boiling water, baking brownies, or as I learned from all my free time, waiting for email responses. Like a kid sitting at his desk waiting for the school bell to ring, my shift was like waiting a thousand years. Customers walked to and fro, leaving with bought goods in tow (hey I did it again!), good lord this was taking forever-hey my shift was over (yet again a rhyme!). Clocked out and headed home, but felt slightly spontaneous today.
Walking on an unfamiliar path, I hoped that this would be a good change of pace. Abandoned houses, nearly empty lots, almost no people around. Well, the view was different I’ll tell you that. But I digress, just the usual grayscale…except for this box.
Big, brown, fairly mint, cardboard box was in my way. Now usually this kind of stuff such as plastic bags, smashed cans, and McDonald cups blends in like trees in a forest, but this box was just obtrusively in my way. Learning my lessons with garbage from yesterday, I simply walked around it and left it to decompose.
I unslung my bag lazily-ah forget it. Well anyway, that box just kept stalking the back of my skull, so I attempted to try and get peace of mind. A little television always does the trick, however that talking painting popped up right after commercial. Who lives in a pineapple under the-AAAAAAAGH! Oh wait it’s an old episode, never mind (I don’t really mind the episodes that were made under Stephen Hillenburg, THOSE were the ones that are actually funny). As euphoric as I was to see a piece of good old animation, it had to be THIS episode.
Minutes in, the TV seemed to taunt me. “…it is here that the boxes reach their final destination *CLICK*…the equation is illustrated here by this box *CLICK* …I couldn’t afford to get you a present this year, so I got you this box. That’s what I got you!” And Squidward, as though our minds were connected, “Isn’t there anything on that isn’t about boxes?! *CLICK* and welcome back to championship boxing. I guess this is okay, I mean it’s not REALLY about boxes…*shows two boxes boxing*” Never mind.
Pulled out an old copy of Metal Gear Solid 3, popped it into my still-standing PlayStation 2, and reclined back into my office chair. The camouflaged soldier crawled through the wet grass; the caution of moving about enemy territory without being caught somehow soothes me, no lethal engagement, just crawl. As if in a Hollywood movie, a nearby soldier is alerted by a lone twig in the brush. “Damn it” I said as I moved Snake to somewhere safe, “Nowhere to go, wait…AHA!” Quick thinking left me to remember Snake’s cardboard box (by now the box on the street has already left my bulletin board of thoughts), and the soldier searched the ground aimlessly, not suspecting recycled-pulp to hide the enemy.
What I love about the Metal Gear Solid series is Snake’s conversations over the Codec (his in-ear radio which is literally in his ear). While in the box, I called up Sigint over the Codec and here’s how it went:
“Uh. Snake…what are you doing?”
“I’m in a box.”
“A cardboard box? Why are you…?” The box…
“I dunno. I was just looking at it, and suddenly I got this irresistible urge to look inside.” No wait he said get inside not look inside! “Not just and urge – more than that. It was my destiny to be there; with the box.” To be HERE, IN the box! From there I just paused the game and said,
“ALRIGHT! I GET IT! I’m going for a walk!” Too lazy to tie my tie, I simply slipped on my boots, grabbed my jacket, and went out the door. I forgot to turn off the game though, which began to play when I dropped it to go out. As I went full-speed to the front door, all I can hear is Snake echoing my thoughts exactly, “And then when I put it on, I suddenly got this…”
“Feeling of inner peace” I said.
I thought about the box on the way. What was it about that box that made it stick out in my mind? Curiosity kicked me in the ass, and I wanted some closure.
Within minutes I found it, still sitting there, sad and alone among the broken concrete and over-grown grass. It didn't move, it didn't stand out as if it were special. It was an ordinary, brown cardboard box. I didn't want to say I came out here for nothing, so I walked closer to it. As I drew closer, however, I began to notice something inside. It was brightly colored, multiple colors in fact, and was quite small. Maybe the size of a few month old Labrador puppy.
Alright box, this better be worth it, I thought to myself. I stopped beside the box, and looked down at the colorful blob inside.
This is where I currently stood: looking into the box at a small... something. No, I know exactly what it is, but my brain was just as shocked as I was. At first I want to say it's simply a toy, left to die along with all the other things in this block. But then I saw it breathing. In fact, it appeared to be sleeping. My hands were sweating, my breathing erratic, and there I was blinking my eyes trying to refresh my vision.
Each time, the image stays the same. Inside, is a sleeping...filly...Rainbow Dash.
I kneel down, trying to get a closer look into the box. I can't believe what I am seeing. There is not a physical, mental, or extraterrestrial way how this could be here...how she could be here, in my gloomy, dark and horrid world. I examined the box further, and on the side in simple pen said "Give to good home." Talk about grammar, must have been too stupid to take care of her. Very, very stupid, who would give a filly RAINBOW DASH?! My mind at that moment was now a mess of questions. How did she get here? Why is she here? Why is she a filly? Her flank is even barren of her cutie mark, meaning she is indeed a filly. As I stood to stretch my tired legs, I accidentally bump the side of the box with my foot, and the inevitable occurs: she wakes up.
She looked around, rubbing her face with her foreleg, trying to wake herself up. All she saw at first are the brown walls of the box, but then she looks up to me. Those large black eyes, along with the rose-colored rim around them, drove my heart to, as the meme goes, explode... twice. The sheer cuteness of it all brought me down on my knees, and I couldn’t help but give a Pinkie smile. I haven't smiled like this in years, since the last time me and my parents went out to the only remaining park in the area.
Her eyes continued to stare at me, and I stared back. I didn't know what to say, or what to do, but I must start somewhere.
"Hi there."
I speak, but she doesn't respond.
"Uh, what are you doing out here?"
She looked around, then back to me. The more I studied her, the more I realize she is really young; years younger than her filly appearance in episode twenty three. She might not even be able to talk yet... that is, if she even can talk in my world. The fact that she even exists right now, has me reeling in confusion. I return my attention back to her, and notice a small shiver of her body. It can get pretty cold here in mid-September.
I'm not sure how to exactly tackle this situation; do I take her home? Do I call someone? Who would I even call? I can't take her to a shelter... that's a stupid thought in the first place. Not only would it be a horrible sight, she might be taken off to some lab and experimented on or something just as equally horrible. I have only one choice.
She shakes once more as the cool air reaches her coat; her wings ruffle as she lies back down and huddles her legs closer to her body to keep warm. Paternal instinct kicked in. I take off my own jacket, and reach down and pick her up. I got the initial response I expected; fear. She began to squirm around, unsure what I'm doing to her. Unable to fly, she still fluttered her wings as in praying for a miracle to happen that she does magically take flight. I placed her into my jacket, wrapped her up like a baby with her head sticking out, and held her in my arm. She continued to squirm, but then my body heat finally seeped through the thin jacket and she settled down.
"It's all right. Let’s get you somewhere warmer, huh?"
I smile again at her. She looked up to me with much confusion in her eyes as she tried to process what is happening.
"Don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt you. It's getting late, and you'll freeze out here."
I think she understood me, for after I said those words her eyes return to their normal size, and she snuggled herself more comfortably inside my jacket. She squirmed a little, trying to get into a more comfortable position. I can feel her hooves and wings poking me as she shifts. Then, to top it off, she rests her chin onto my arm and lets out a deep sigh, closing her eyes to drift off to sleep.
My heart explodes for a third time.
The entire walk back, I kept an eye out for other people who could pass by me. I didn't want anyone else to see her. I had no way of knowing how they would react. As usual though, I didn't see a single person. Time welcomed us with both hands at twelve; fortunately for us both, I had turned on my porch light, otherwise I might have passed it. Being in one of the few occupied homes meant a lot of darkness. I glanced down at the filly, who continued to sleep in the jacket as I carried her. She was no longer shivering, and felt quite cozy and warm.
I walked up to my porch, careful not to make too much noise as I got my keys out, and opened my door. It was dark inside due to me leaving while it was still light out. With a flick of a switch, the single bulb in the hallway came to life, shedding some light into the living room. “Let there be light.” Most of the furnishings are my parent's. Then again, so is the house. I became the owner of it after their passing, and have done what I can to keep it that way.
With Rainbow Dash in my arm, I walk into the living room. As I enter the living room, I can feel her stirring in my arm. She had woken up, most likely when I turned on the light, and is now getting antsy. With no idea what to do or how to tackle the situation, I set her down on the couch.
She immediately jumped out of the jacket and looked around, already investigating her surroundings. I continue to watch her as she explores the couch, and the coffee table.
"What are you doing here in my world?" I said.
She gave me another blank look on her face. She has no clue either, then again, what else should I expect from a filly that can't even talk yet?
"Are you lost?" The words must have registered because then her ears fell to her head and stared solemnly at the ground. "Oh..."
The realization strikes that she has no clue what is going on, where she is, who I am, or anything else. She's beyond “lost”. She is misplaced.
"Until I can figure something out, I guess you can uh... stay with me."
At that she lifted her head, her ears erect once again, and looked at me with worry. My words didn't sound that encouraging, so I put on a smile as I spoke.
"Don't worry, I’m sure whatever brought you here will fix itself within time. We just well... gotta wait. Is that alright?"
I'm not sure why I asked that, but it seemed to do the trick. Her ears perk right up and she smiled back. D’aaawww.
The next few hours I spent giving her the "grand tour" of my house. Nothing amazing to see, and I avoided taking her into my bedroom out of fear that the large amount of dirty clothes would swallow her up. Afterwards, I gave her something to eat. I break up some small carrots (amazing I have any what with that bunny owner customer at my work), and amazingly I discovered she has some teeth. Since she is still a filly, I wasn't sure if she could eat solid foods such as carrots yet. Then again, she is from a cartoon so I don't know what the hell is "correct" for her anyway.
Satisfied with the food, she made herself comfy in my father's chair and sat. I didn't mind, it's not like I sit in it. I was never allowed to when he was alive, so why should that change even after his passing? It's his chair. But I'm not gonna be mean to the filly for not knowing that, so I let her sit where she is most comfortable, I bet dad is rolling in his grave right now. I gave her a small blanket to wrap herself in, my heater kind of sucks. It wasn’t as cold as it was outside, but my heater has had problems since before my parents passing. There was a trick to fixing it, but that died along with my father.
I-
