Clepto-Grammar-Mania

My friend likes to steal. He once stole a stainless steel spoon.
I like to steal too. I once stole a stool.
I wanted my friends spoon very much so.
So, because I like to steal, after stealing a stool, I stole some stainless steel that had previously been stolen.


-Josh

Fractions

So I was wondering the streets when an alley way caught my eye. It looked shady and it was indeed dubiously dark.

"She ain't much, but she's something."

The voice startled me beyond... well... beyond that level of startledness that is the usual. No really. I almost "fell off my dinosaur" as they say. One might even go so far as to say that I almost shit my breeches (although I had only just relieved myself at a nearby restaurant moments ago).

After recovering from that critical hit, I confronted the source of the voice.

It appeared to be an elderly man. Or perhaps it was a middle-aged man who had fought a long losing battle with drugs. Either way I was unsure of this man and I was unsure of whom he was referring to.

I decided to humour the scraggly pauper.

"Who are you talking about?" I asked carefully.

"The 'ole two fourteen and a half!" He replied with a smile. The man pointed down the alley way as he spoke. Three fingers held a half eaten sandwich while the index provided direction. I found the sandwich particularly intriguing. It moved something within me for reasons I was unsure of at the time. "She ain't much, but she's something." he repeated.

After a short moment I realized I was staring at his sandwich and quickly met his eyes so as not to be rude. By this time the pauper's smile had faded. He was staring absently down the alley way. 

"You want it?" The man asked while offering the food with an out-stretched hand. He was still staring down the alley way...

"No thank you." I responded, trying to sound polite.

The man looked down at the sandwich in his hand. His initial expression was blank, but it slowly grew into disgust.

"Fucker ordered extra olives! Fuckin' shit makes me gag!" The seemingly crazy old man dropped the sandwich with what appeared to be malicious intent and started shambling down the alley way.

I stood perplexed for a moment. As I was staring into space trying to make sense of what had just happened I realized two things simultaneously. One; the building to the left of the alley way was  number 214, the right building being number 215 and two; the fucker who had ordered extra olives on his sandwich was me. I had thrown the sandwich in the garbage simply because I was full. The scraggly man must have scooped it out while I was taking a shit. It didn't occur to me that it was my sandwich because I hadn't actually had to request extra olives for some time as it were. I happened to be a "regular" at the establishment. Also, I don't generally throw out my sandwiches much less find it in the hands of a homeless man shortly afterwards. Jesus-fucking-H! Forgive me lord... The hands on the clock of destiny must be in full swing today I thought to myself. But what is all of this supposed to mean!??! I had always been a firm believer of fate. I maintain that everything happens for a reason and I try to make a habit of figuring out what that reason is.

I eyed the defiled sandwich that lay on the sidewalk. It sat motionless... and uncanny. "That's it," I decided. I stomped the sandwich with a  final, devastating blow of my heel as I set off down the alley way in search of the old man. Whatever all of this meant, I was unaware. But I had a feeling there was a valuable lesson to be learned from all of this and that the scraggly pauper was going to teach it to me.

I kicked the dirt off my shoes before entering the alley way... the home of a homeless man... 214 and a half.

TO BE CONTINUED...

-Josh

Texas Hold 'em Poker Rap

When it comes to hold 'em, you might as well fold 'em
I'll have you spillin' chips before the flop flips

I am one of a kind,
Playin' like a millionaire,
Make ya fold before ya pay da blind
Flippin' chips with a twist of the wrist - I'll blow ya fuckin' mind

Burn one
Flip flip flip
Burn one
Flip
Then the river comes and I make ya trip
When it comes to the pot, you can't even win a split
Like a fist to the face, I'll make ya spit chips

'Bout to rip a hole in the universe as I step into the second verse
Hope ya got enough chips in ya purse
'Cause here comes the worst
I'm about to burst while I put you in a hearse
'Cause when it comes to poker, I'll always place first
Now let's see if you got enough chips to quench my thirst

Don't even try to bluff
I'll call you out like a diamond in the rough
You aint' hard enough for this stuff

I got a poker face like a brick wall
You left your poker face in the washroom stall
If you fuckin' bluff, I'm gunna' fuckin' call

If you try to check, I'm gunna fuckin' raise
All your chips will vanish in a smokeless fuckin' haze

Please don't test me
I have a flawless poker recipe
It's gunna' be a royal flush victory
Why do you think they call me "Master Lee"?
I am a master of poker and a professor of philosophy

Hand after hand, you fall into my plan
Can't you understand?
I am the "Poker Man"

Looks like it's time to ante-up
What's a matter? Can't you fill the cup?
My poker chip volcano is about to fuckin' erupt
Time to throw your cards in, bitch, 'cause you're goin' home fuckin' bankrupt


-Josh

Random Thought

Eye's don't give true vision.
The Brain does not give intelligence.
These are just tools some use better than others.

-Adam

Thought Provoking Question

"When "sick" is the standard, how does one become truly ill?"

Josh

One Night Stand (Part 1)

11:00 PM.

You stand on the corner of a street taking a drag from a cigarette. The music from the club behind you is pumping brilliantly. The line to get in to the club goes on for what looks like a couple of blocks. This is nothing new though. You pull you’re smart phone out of you’re pocket and read the message on the screen.

“Meet you out front, 2 minutes. Nothing can prepare you for what tonight is going to bring.”

You place the phone back in you’re pocket. You know judging by what you just read that there is a good chance you’re not going to remember a fucking thing tomorrow morning.

A couple of ladies waiting in line are eyeing you up and giggling to each other. You shoot them a playful smile but don’t lead them on.

As you continue to wait for you’re buddies you take one last drag from you’re cigarette and flick it in to the street. A limousine pulls up in front of you. The doors open up and you’re greeted by a mobile festival of drugs, booze, chaos and mayhem. Women pile out of the vehicle and litter the street screaming and dancing like animals that have freed themselves from the zoo. A few of them greet you with hugs, kisses, and the occasional ass grab.

The last people to exit the limousine are your buddies. You greet them with handshakes. One of your buddies hands you a glass of rye and a couple of pills.

You feel the need to ask what journey your about to embark on,

“Hey man, what is this stuff?”

Your buddy responds,

“Ecstasy man, best shit you can get. You take those and you will feel like a fucking machine for the rest of the night”

You pop the two pills in to your mouth and wash it down with the rye.

After you discard the glass you follow your buddies and make your way in to the club. Unlike the hundreds of people waiting in line you walk straight in. You nod and the bouncers acknowledge your presence as you walk past them.

The benefit of being VIP is that you don’t have to deal with any bull shit.

The music is getting louder as you walk down the hallway making you’re way towards the dance floor. You can feel the bass pumping vibrantly throughout the building. You feel the blood rushing through your veins. As you get to the end of the hallway an electrifying feeling falls upon you. Lights are pulsing to the rhythm of the music. Your heart beat is racing. Anxiety doesn’t exist at this point. It’s you versus the world.

-Nick

Gravity Part 3

I fealt objective. I fealt detached... and defeated. At the same time I couldn't feel anything at all. I just gazed at my cold, dead wife. How could she do this to me? To us? All those years... all those memories...

I contemplated a course of action... this took a considerable amount of time. I found a solution though. It started with calling the police. I told them what happened. They told me to stay where I was and that they would be here soon. I said "ok". After I hung up the phone I walked to the kitchen. There was a 40 ounce bottle of rye that Hellen and I had recieved as a wedding gift. We had been saving it for a special occasion... I popped it open and drank a quarter of it in one go. Wiped my lips with the cuff of my shirt and made my way to the balcony. I polished off the rest of the bottle out there in the cool spring breeze. It was overcast outside with a 90% chance of alcohal poisoning. I leaned on the rail and looked down. I could barely make out the emergancy vehicles and flashing lights. They would be at my door very soon. I fealt out of my mind and body... the world was spinning. I barely managed to climb onto the railing. I spoke aloud "my poor lovely wife, I will be with you soon".

That's when I leapt from the 22nd story and left my fate to gravity.

-Josh