Day 75: Day off

Not really a day off.  Just a rabble rousing topic line, sue me.  I think I'm going to move into a warehouse with this guy from high school and do this exclusively until I find a book in me.  It's like digging up a fossil, it's like digging up a fossil.  It's weird to think that everything comes from somewhere and you can't be completely random, because more often than not I feel like I'm completely random.

I gotta get fired up, what's a good warm up?  I've got all day to do this thing so I don't necessarily need one.  Yeah, I should get out and do something else at some point today.  PS:  I'm going to find that new job, tomorrow?  Yeah.

The Earth is 4,550 million years old.

Biggest in the universe


            Jim was loose in the woods with a long wooden stick attached to a round piece of metal.  He would have told you it wasn’t a metal detector.  He stared up at the sun to keep himself awake, the searing pain cutting into his retinas.  He looked down at his tattered rags, his mechanical arms, and stared back at the house. 

            Jim sneaked back up to the house when Roger was showing the policeman the giant metal plug the robots had installed on the den.

            “We’ll send an electrician, yeah, I haven’t seen anything like it.”

            The cop was caught unawares by the Bully Bot, who stared from a frozen position.

            “Pig.”  The robot said without moving its fake lips, and tacitly sneered.

            “Well what the hell is this thing?”  The burly cop asked, suddenly a little more than confused.

            The wall-mounted device spawned a camera screen with a metallic uncoiling noise.  The shutters opened like an old fashioned camera, and the screen propped itself up like an outdoor movie screen.

            “Jim,”  An out of focus gargly voice broke into focus.  “Jim we have your girls.” 

            The cop reached and put his hand on the holster and stood tense.  The face on the other end came into focus on the video, a metal mask covering its whole face other than the eyes.

            Jim was back in the house, tirelessly trying to scrub the red out of his eyes in front of the bathroom mirror.  The sink ran at full blast, overflowing with water, and Jim had to turn the water down once he heard the shrill cries of Roger outside through the window.  Jim walked toward the den, seeing his screw driver lying on the floor of the room, yet he forced himself to go out of the front door.

            The voice sat there static, Roger and the policeman yelling at it.  The policeman had to continuously remind Roger to stay calm, and the face in the screen ignored both of them completely.

            Jim walked briskly around the side of the house, and when he set eyes on the screen he became pale and looked faint.

            “He’s back.”  Jim said.  “I thought it was all over.”

            “What was all over?  Hey, bub, what did you think was all over?”  The policeman enquired, reaching into his front pocket for a tiny yellow notebook.

            “He’s got the girls, Jim.  He’s got my girls.”  Roger sounded utterly defeated.