The Child-Cat, the Elevator, and the Undiagnosable

            Woe is me! No, really. As of a little over a week or so ago, I haven’t been feeling all that sick. Turns out this cat-loving hobo should really keep his room clear of dust and cats. Alas! That will never be. So, I have been taking medicine and I have an ionizer (I believe that is the term, and MS Word didn’t underline it…). Since I began these habits, I have been feeling rather wonderful! I’ve only had a minor sore throat. As of yesterday, I have taken a turn for the worse. (Bebo, Hugo, Leonard, you know where I keep my after-death instructions.) Leonard had a ghastly egg-salad sandwich in his school bag. Almost as soon as I got into the car, I had my head out of the window, gagging. My body appears to believe that I am a pregnant woman, with the way it reacts sometimes. Of course, I was merely nauseous once we tossed the abominable thing in the trunk.

            It’s really hard to explain to people that I have been sick with one thing or another ever since Christmas.

            “What do the doctors say?” they will ask.

            “I’m their favorite mystery patient,” I like to rely. “I’m undiagnosable. My doctor says I keep her on her toes.”

            That, dear reader, is my life. Very few people understand, or even know what is “wrong” with me. How relieving it is to have friends, even if they don’t sympathize. They just go with it, so long as it does not impede upon them. Our friendship may be selfish, but it is a selfish act when one looks at it. I am only close with people I have things in common with. I don’t even attempt friendship with those I do not like. Selfish is humanity! (Please ignore my dramatics. I am… in a mood.) How dare we not stretch out a hand to those we loathe! How reminiscent this is of a lecture I once heard… Déjà vu is a poor friend of mine.

            I think I will now go and do something productive, like my math homework, or maybe I’ll just go take a nap… (Honestly, I ended up doing neither…)

            The next day…

            I have just realized that we are rather behind on events! Over a month ago, Bebo and I attended a one-day class. Did he tell you? I’m too lazy to look into that. Well, it was a really cold day. The student center/cafeteria place was completely deserted. Until we got there, and we broke the silence with our voices and uncoordinated ways. It was an eerie place. The entire campus was like that, as it was a Saturday. Then, at the end of our break, we had to wait outside of the classroom (as the other half of class was taking the practical). The classroom opens to the outdoors, so we were standing in the cold, shivering and going numb. Bebo had the amazing idea to stand in the elevator with the doors shut. So, we told someone we knew to get us when we could go back inside, and into the elevator we went. It worked! It was warmer, despite not being heated in the least. Soon, we could feel our toes. What a wonderful feeling! While we practiced ASL vocabulary, someone actually decided to use the thing. I think we made her uncomfortable… A little while later, someone knocked on the doors. It turned out that our acquaintance had forgotten! Luckily, some people had overheard, and reminded him. Now I can officially cross “getting forgotten in an elevator” off of my bucket list. I’ve done a few of things from that list lately, such as, “get closed into a car trunk.” Ah, good times…

            Some odd days later…

            What a cold day this is. Here I am, lounging on a couch typing away at my laptop, under a sheet (because I really can’t be bothered to actually get up to grab a blanket), cuddling with my cat (Kind of. He has personal space issues…).

            Wow. I sound really pathetic.

            Aaaah! He’s so CUTE!  (The cat…)

            Moving on… I’ve been rather melancholy of late. It has nothing to do with the season. I actually love winter (minus the snow and wind, because when we lose power, we’re one of the last people to get it back. Okay, so I just like the rain and the way everything outside looks.).

            Life is too short, too long. It’s taken me my entire life to reach where I am today! Yeah, fine, ignore me. I make no sense. I realize that. I just guess that I’m ready for (fill in the blank). It’s too bad I don’t know what I’m ready for… (Okay, this is talk for my other blog, Waiting for the Green Horizon. Eh, I’ll continue there.)

            I normally don’t do this, but I feel like putting in a few quotes…

            “Take my life. Take my mind. Take my soul. Take my will. ‘Cause I am Yours. I give it all to You.” Jeremy Camp, Take My Life

            “How far? How fast? How long?” Switchfoot, Amy’s Song

            “I’ll open my eyes and I’ll stay awake. I made it through my darkest day. And I’ll sing this song at the top of my lungs now that this dark day is done. “ 12 Stones, This Dark Day

            “This is your time. This is your dance. Live every moment. Leave nothing to chance. Swim in the sea. Drink of the deep. Embrace the mystery of all you can be. This is your time.” Michael W. Smith, This Is Your Time

            “I'm gonna fight for what's right. Today I'm speaking my mind. And if it kills me tonight, I will be ready to die.” Skillet, Hero

            "It is weak and silly to say you cannot bear what it is your fate to be required to bear." Charlotte Bronte, Jane Eyre

            And lastly, a paraphrase of what Hugo cheerfully told me today: “Hopefully I won’t see you tomorrow!” Oh, who am I kidding? It may have been Bebo. I was just too tired!

            A picture of my wonderful child-cat! And my sister's shoe...

            Joe

Of Zombies and Elemental Backstabbing

  We, the Three Bewhiskered Desperadoes have been hideously betrayed.
  Yes, gentle readers, the weather has dealt us a low blow.  They all said that there would be an epic snowstorm last night.  The clouds even backed up these assertions, looming darkly overhead and casting a chill shadow over the hopeful inhabitants of Razzle the Maroon.  All over the rest of the state, the weather oblliged desperate schoolchildren, and normal life was brought to a standstill, buried under several inches of fluffy ice crystals.  Not, however, the city in which our college is located--Bummertown is the only metropolis in the entire western half of the state that is not clothed all in glistening white.  Our college is probably the only educational institution in the region that has not closed its doors to students. 
  It is all really too much.  We have been freezing our ragged hineys off for days, staying in Razzle in hopes of  at least keep most of our fingers attached to our hands, praying for a reprieve from the daily grind of college life--and, finally, when our prayers are answered, and the state in which we live is made to closely resemble the polar regions to the south of the globe, college still isn't closed. 
  We must be cursed.  Maybe, when Bebo was thinking nasty, disrespectful thoughts about the Super-Villain lab tech's hair, that fuschia-pated person perceived her insults and cursed us.  Or, perhaps, it is Leonard's fault; he refused to be offered up as a blood sacrifice to seal the weather's favor and bring snow.  Who knows?
  I certainly don't. 
  But, then, I am a mere hobo, trapped at school and whining about the weather because I am too lazy to do my English homework or study for the History test that I have tomorrow that I haven't started studying for yet.  I don't know anything about curses and the capricious nature of the elements.  Maybe there isn't anything personal about it at all.  Maybe the weather is just mean, nasty, and interfering because that is its nature, and it doesn't know how to do anything else.  I can certainly empathize with that, being myself a mean, nasty and interfering person who is just naturally like that.  (and all of the Desperadoes said, "Amen!")
  At any rate, school is not closed, for whatever reason, I bought new books on Monday (at Half-Price Books, I can get several paperbacks with a single morning's worth of panhandling money, which is really saying something, as I am not a particularly successful panhandler, being more gifted with theft and murder) and am therefore behind, both in sleep and in homework (the books are part of the reason why the History test is as yet unstudied for).  Perhaps I should actually think about doing something productive...
  Naw.  I thought about it, and the idea just wasn't appealing at all.
  The computer lab here at the college that should be closed is full of zombies.  I have a theory that the idea of zombies actually originated from the phenomenon of adults not actually turning into sentient, functional
human beings until the sun has been up for at least three hours, and they have partaken of some form of drug, such as coffee.  That would explain why everyone seems to be cheerful more in the summer time, and why so many get all grumpy and unpreductive in the winter.  I do not think, however, that this theory applies to animals, since Fiend and Morgoth are always not only always awake before I am, but they are also cheerful, cuddly, and full of friendly advice, such as "Get up now and feed me," or "You would wake up faster and be more cheerful if you rubbed my tummy and scratched my neck at the same time."  You gotta love 'em.
  I just thought of something that I wanted to say, but I have now forgotten it.  That might be a sign that I need to stop typing and start finishing the English homework that was due this morning...
~Hugo

School of the Hobo

Because hobo(e)s (MS Word recognizes both words) do get educations! Hah!

Of Life....And Fuscia....And of supervillions....

Here I currently reside in the computer lab. Yes, I did convince the technition  that I had showered within the past month (Untrue, by the way, everygood hobo knows that showers are prohibited in the months that lie between September and April), and that I was going to use the College's computer resources for something valid (also untrue). So here I sit. I find  this room awkward because I am frequently stared at through the windows that line 50% of the wall space, and the women sitting beside me keeps glancing frightenedly in my direction and moving her purse closer to her person. I don't blame her. It's probably not often that one would see a hobo daintily resting on an uncomfertable reclyning chair, pecking away at the computer keys with large, unwashed hobo hands. VERY unlikely that you have ever whitnessed such a phenomonon.
Other than the nervous female, there seems to be very little activty going on in this room. Everyone is pecking away at their keywords like zombies. Their eyes have even glazed over, as they type whatever it is that they find is worth their time to type. It seems as though the life has just been sucked right out of  them. And now their lifeless digits are pecking out random numbers that have no meaning at all to a normal person. Maybe it is this evil room. Maybe when they walk in-WHOOSH!- the life gets sucked right out of them. Then perhaps they are controlled by the lab technition (because she seems to be in working order) and they must type millions of compliments to her before she will allow them to leave. It started out so innocently, the simple, often-ignored, lab tech just wanted some attention. So she used the lab's hypnotic powers to control the students who flock to this room....just for a little while. Then she would release them to go on with their scholarly lives. But, as is the way of all super villions, she got power-hungry. Now she controls the minds, and the hands, of any innocent student who happens to walk within the doors. She must be stopped!! Before she wants to control the mind of this unbathed hobo!! Oh, wait. I'm feeling a little....whoozy. I'd better get out of here!! And maybe I should compliment the super-villion on the lovely shade of fuscia she decided to destroy her hair with.....maybe then she will let me live.....

Adventures in Bikini Bottom

            A few days ago, I was rather bored. I then saw the challenge on a Facebook friend’s status telling me to lie about how we met. As I said, I was rather bored, and this is my response (In parentheses, I have added side notes for the sake of the reader):

            I was conversing with my TV. "Who lived in a pineapple under the sea?" it asked.

            "SpongeBob Squarepants!" I responded. Then the TV made a whooshing sound and it sucked me in!

             I landed at Patrick's feet, somehow able to breathe. It smelled fishy. Patrick (a starfish) grabbed my arm and we skipped to SpongeBob’s house. "I have a new friend!" Patrick screamed, knocking on the door.

            "Shut up!" Squidward (a squid) told us through his window. Seeing me, he sighed and said, "Not another one," and shut his window the play his clarinet. SpongeBob (a sponge) came out the door, decked out for work. Realizing there was still some dew (yeah, I was lost too) (because this world is in the sea. C’mon, keep up!) on the ground, I deduced it was still morning.

            They took me to the Krusty Krabs (a restaurant) to Mr. Krabs (a crab). He took me into his office and said, "Well, this is gonna get me some money!" With amazing strength, he pushed me through a trap door located under his desk. I walked down the stairs with him wielding a letter opener behind me. Things were getting fishy. At the bottom was a giant, underground jail filled with about 20 humans! Shrunken down to the size of a sponge, like I was. He unlocked the door and pushed me in, securing the lock before going upstairs.

            You (the person’s status I commented on) were the first person to come up to me and tell me what I was supposed to do, because it was a factory we were in! And there were these evil Jellyfish monitors keeping us all in line, doing our jobs.

            During the next few weeks, we became friends. You had been there a month. Together, we worked on a plan to escape. You had overheard Mr. Krabs singing to himself about money and a creature that only humans could summon. After we pieced together to bits of conversation, we knew what to do. We spread the word.

            At noon exactly, everyone stopped their work and started doing the Macarena! A unisourse (unicorn sea horse) (I made the thing up) materialized in the midst of us, and it became our protector. The jellyfish all decided to leave, seeing their rival. Mr. Krabs came down like he usually did, but we were just breaking the rusty lock. He ran, screaming. We stopped the unisourse from slaughtering him, and made him, SpongeBob, Patrick, and Squidward promise to never collect humans again. As I explained the conditions to Mr. Krabs, you found his plan to, after he had collected enough humans, get the unisourse and then make human patties. We let the unisourse do his worst, got our promises from the harmless employees, and the unisourse took us through a whirling, whooshing thing in the middle of the desert, and we went home.

The End.

            Joe

The Post-Hatred Musings of Hugo the Scarred

  Yes, as Bebo has said, yesterday was awful.  Why are people so easily offended?  I think that they should alll be like us box-schoolers; Bebo, Joe, and I had never been taken seriously until we came to this wretched, explosive school.  All through our happy little box-schooled hobo childhoods, whenever we stated an opinion on anything, one of two things would happen: One, we would be laughed at until the entire company was rolling around on the ground with tears making clean stripes on their faces; or, two, we would be called idiots and then ignored, the silence filled with nothing more complex than chewing noises and the loud, unhealthy breathing of hobos with colds.  Oops, a third thing sometimes happened as well--sometimes, the entire company of assembled box-schoolers and box-schooling hobo parents and boxwives would laugh hysterically while calling us idiots and then ignoring us.
  On the whole, nothing remotely as scarring as being accused of narrow-mindedness, bigotry, and rotten intellectualness ever happened to any of us.  Why did we inflict this college nonsense on ourselves?  Why??  Why?
  However, there are certain good points to being at college.  For one thing, we are finally in the process of being free of constant parental restraint, after fifty years of living in our parents' boxes and doing precisely as we were told.  Also, we would never have coined such intelligent and original phrases as "Holy Swiss!" and "Chef in the bush" if we had not had the intellectual stimulus of college to get our creative juices flowing in such constructive channels (before college, our creative juices tended more towards flowing in the channels of inventing innovative new methods for the manufacture of mud pies, and effectively looting dumpsters without getting any coffee grounds or slimy banana peels on our clothes).  In addition, Joe and I would never have discovered pork jerky if we hadn't ridden to school in Bebo's Razzle...
  I don't think that, at this time, I will break with the trend of Bebo and I posting ludicrously short posts, especially since my math class starts in fifteen minutes and I have not eaten anything today (a circumstance which has extremely adverse effects on my already horrendous personality).
  Toodl-oo!
  ~Hugo the Hungrily Horrible

Of "Hugo the Hated" and the "Non-Box-schooled children.....

People are stupid. Oh, wait. Did I offend someone??
Yesterday in english class, Hugo was, as per normal, wildly and loudly proclaiming his beliefs in front of the entire public-schooled, very offendable, and, for the most part, well groomed, class. Needless to say, they did not welcome his opinions well, and in turn, began to verbally attack his standpoint. Hugo was silenced by the Judge, (otherwise known as the Contradictory Authority On Anything and EVERYTHING) and had to sit quetly with hand waving wildly through the air, just waiting to defend his beliefs. Everyone was screaming. Noise filled the classroom like a bad high school band trying to rehearse inside of a refridgerator. Hugo stared wide-eyed, unable to believe that his simple opinion had caused this ruckus. This hobo and Joe, sat listening to the histerical argument that ensued over Hugo's declaration, trying very badly not to laugh. You see, this whole thing would have made sense if you were box-schooled. You know, schooled in your box? Yes, when I was twelve, my mother told me that it was high time that i was schooled. I, of course, burst into histerics as this proclaimation, and went to all extents to ensure that I did not appear to be a physologically developed child-hobo, ready to venture off to school. It apperently worked because i was box-schooled for the next forty years. Which brings me back to today....If our entire class was box-schooled, they would not have been offended by Hugo's beliefs because they, most likely, would have held beliefs much similar to his own, having been raised in the same enviorment, gone to the same hobo-church, with the same experiences, same hobo-friends, and same hobo stew. This would mean that they were quite used to one loud hobo or another spouting off wildly radical beliefs now and then, and would have simply nodded, grunted, and continued on living their hobo-lives without taking offence. Not so with this class....People were screaming, fingers were pointed, and several public-schooled-non-hobos were on the verge of tears after a simple outburst of Hugo the horrible. Needless to say, he felt horribly guilty and thus issued a thorough appology this morning before the Judge arrived. These easily-offended public schoolers seemed to accept this, and now Hugo is no longer "Hugo the Hated"....this seems to be all I have time to report on at this time.
k bye
Bebo the Hobo