From the desk of Admiral Stanley.

Steven Blizsinski was a normal fellow. He lived a normal life in an everyday situation. Except when he went to Thermastelya. It was a magical place that was, sadly, inside one of Steven's socks. He had found it doing something rather uncouth with a sock and felt something oddly cold. When he looked he was pulled inside to this magic world. The odd thing was, everyone inside this world, everyone was an object that in the normal world was inanimate, like clothes or furniture. Steve's best friend from Thermastelya was a cardigan named Chuck. The two of them had a great adventures all the time. One day however that all changed...


Steven Blizsinski and Chuck where having a normal day in and everyday fashion. At first nothing was extraordinary in Thermastelya. The duo had just spent the afternoon sneaking into homes and unpairing Sock children, for this was the type of adventures that Steven Blizsinski and Chuck enjoyed the most. Afterwhich, they returned to Chuck's Drier, but something was off. Chuck started to sneeze. Steven Blizsinski had never seen a cardigan sneeze before, it never occurred to him that cardigan's had noses or eyes or even souls--this however was a magical world, and Steven Blizsinski sometimes failed to actually acknowledge this. And Chuck continued to sneeze, which struck him as odd as he didn't realize that he could sneeze either. Discovering the root of the problem Steven Blizsinski quickly realized that there was cat hairs on everything in the Drier.

Steven Blizinski was not a fan of generalizations, but he knew cat hairs, as a whole, are no good, they're mischievous, immature, they certainly don't think before they act and they will follow anyone with a crazy enough idea. "Hey, do you think you can crawl out of my friend's, uh, nose, or fibers or whatever? He's kind of allergic, oddly enough." The cat hairs' reply was completely unintelligible, just a mesh of high-pitched garbles. They all spoke at once and none of them said exactly the same thing and the giggled relentlessly throughout. The main gist seemed to be that they found their little prank hilarious and they weren't leaving until they get completely bored. The strangest thing about cat hairs is although they're easily distracted, they can spend a frighteningly long time getting a kick out of the same old jokes.

So I get minus one point.

I swear, I was busy like all of yesterday, but rules are rules, man, and I follow the rules. and now here comes another blog of another story by another Admiral.

And then I have homework to do.

A story from Myerific

It was cold down on the surface. With the scientists still asleep, Jim Fozan was roused awake by the wind. He couldn't seem to adjust to the sound of the howling. He couldn't place why it upset him, but it didn't seem to phase the rest of the expedition. So, he wasn't about to start complaining, he did, however, miss the comfort of his bed. His bed and his wife. He missed her too; well, most of the time. She stayed on Terra. Ember had always hated the idea of space; he lived for space.
The rest of the expedition was largely a civilian group, aside from himself and Jones. All they were concerned with was that the Tablets were on this planet, after a century of research and the code had just been broken, it had to be here; they hoped at least. And they mamaged to convience the Government that this was indeed the case.
If he was supposed to protect these scientists, it'd be nice if they would actually listen.


The next morning, Fozan paced the extra chamber of the spaceship teporarily designated as the scientists' work room using every ounce of his strength to keep himself shaking some sense into Ferdinand Bemok, one of the leading scientists, an energetic and frail-looking man who apparently needed this expedition to earn his doctorate in xenoplanetary archaeology.
"So you're saying these tablets could literally be anywhere in the largest continent on this planet?"
"Yes"
"And this continent is thirty-million square miles of canyon, rainforrest and desert?"
"Yup"
"And it just so happens that there are about four trillion animal species living there with their own specialized ways of giving you an agonizing death."
"Affirmative."
"And we're just jumping in."
Ferdinand looked up from his stack of papers.
"You know, Foz,"
"Don't call me Foz."
"On the planet I come from, we have balls -- the men at least -- and because of those, we don't worry about a few obstacles, we leap over them. Like men."
"Look, we're not having this conversation because I'm worried about a fer gigantic poisonous rodents, sentient plants or the occasional hurricane-force wind, it's because we've been here for a week and you're only just now telling me how much you don't know. I have a good feeling there's more you're not telling me and keeping secrets from me can and will jeopardize the success of this mission and, you know, the future of your balls."
"Hey, man you're going to have to take that up with Dr. Fitzgerald, he's the archaeological supervisor. For all I know, he told you everything." The insincerity in his voice made Fozan's fingers involuntarily curl into fists. Before he could say more, Fozan heard the muffled sounds of an assistant screaming from the next room and Jones saying something about a stolen canole and calling someone a "pigfucker" or something to that effect.

About the previous post

I and my good friends Kaptain Zorro, Admiral Stanley and Monsieur Toaster (links larer?) are doing this thing where we blog every day in April. Also we're doing this thing where we each write a paragraph of a story and rotate stories.

That was mine. I think the title shall be Salt, because I like nonsequiturs.


here we go, lets do this thang.

-I say thang because I'm black.

--Marlon.

Storrypassin

I wake up, I put on my overalls and hat, grab my sack of potatoes, and leave. I wake up, I put on my overalls and hat, grab my sack of potatoes, and leave. I wake up, I put on my overalls and hat, grab my sack of potatoes, and leave."Ever sit home and wonder to yourself--" I wake up, I put on my overalls and hat, grab my sack of potatoes, and leave. "if you had a gun to your head," I wake up, I put on my overalls and hat, grab my sack of potatoes, and leave."what are the limits of what you would do and what you wouldn't?" I wake up, I put on my overalls and hat, grab my sack of potatoes, and leave."Well I hope this was on your list of hypothetical scenarios" EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN IS A BLUR . I wake up, I put on my overalls and hat, grab my sack of potatoes, and leave."Because we don't have a lot of time." I don't know what this person thinks; I'm nobody, I've never helped anyone with anything, I have no skills, I'm just a potato man.

Family

I've noticed, in my household, cakes and pies will be brought home and go for days at a tome without being touched unless I do it first.

One thing I've learned in my nearly 22 years of living is my family tends to make a lot decisions of various magnitudes without ever actually telling me. I think maybe one of my parents has developed some sort of enemy that puts them endanger of being poisoned by deserts and the rest of my family unanimously voted me to be the tester.

I'm pretty sure, if one day I eat a slice of cake and become terminally ill the next morning, my tombstone will read only this:

"Here lies Marlon Barnes, he served his purpose well."

Oh yeah!

I forgot to mention, the comedy show was not horrible. Not fantastic. also, not horrible.

They seemed to really like three of my five or six songs.

And maybe you noticed the band-aids on my fingers from yesterday's post, TOTALLY cut 'em up on mah git-strings. . . on, like, song number two.


what else is there to talk about? I should be doing homework.