things to do this summer:
learn a second language... maybe french?
get a second job
enroll for school in the fall
try my hand at programing
do something crazy
renew passport and go to canada
first impressions
14 years ago
Friday, April 29, 2011
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
dead bunny tree
Let's all imagine something for a moment, shall we?
You are a young child, maybe 6 or 7 and it's easter morning. You wake up, excited, thinking about easter baskets with colored plastic eggs filled with chocolate kisses, jelly beans and other means to a sugar induced coma.
You pull back the Disney themed covers and launch your little, footie pajama-ed body out of bed. You run past your siblings in a mad dash down the hard wood stairs, sliding to a halt at the bottom, to see your darling mother and father sitting, her with her tea and him with his coffee. They smile and open their arms for morning hugs and you rush into their arms, happy that they love you so much.
They spin you around and start walking you to the door, telling you that a great suprise awaits you on the other side of the door. You quicken your pace and grin so happily. You skip to a stop in front of the door and reach up, up, up to the shiny gold door knob and twist the door open.
Your face is alight with expectation, what lies ahead? A visitor? An easter egg hunt? Presents? A puppy?
No.
Your face grows cold, your eyes well up with fear and your toes curl as you see what lies before you. Bunnies, dozens of stuffed toy bunnies hanging by their necks, swaying in the breeze and slightly damp in with the morning dew. Their dead, button eyes stare, forlornly at you, looking straight into your frightened little soul. You let out a small cry of fear and nearly wet yourself. You slam the door so quickly you cath your big toe under the door. You cry out again in pain and drop to the floor as your toes pretests and cries a small droplet of blood.
Your mother, deathly afraid of blood, faints and hits her head on the ground. Your father panics as he sees his child, now histerical, cry frantically at the sight of his mother.
The child is forever scarred and the next summer begins torturing small animals.
the end.
origin of this little story:
while i was out driving with my best friend, we had to drop a friend off at her house. It was about midnight and very, very dark outside. It was also drizzly and damp. As we made our way out of the neighborhood, i saw something move out the corner of my eye. It was the dead, bunny tree.
I am not sure what possessed the inhabitants of the house to decorate the large trees in their front yard with hung bunnies, but they went all out. Bunnies of all sizes and shapes were hung, by their necks and swayed in the wind, soaked by the rain. Being extremely tired this frightened the be-jezzus out of us. We quickly drove away and I concocted this little story.
-signing off and i hope you all had a good easter
You are a young child, maybe 6 or 7 and it's easter morning. You wake up, excited, thinking about easter baskets with colored plastic eggs filled with chocolate kisses, jelly beans and other means to a sugar induced coma.
You pull back the Disney themed covers and launch your little, footie pajama-ed body out of bed. You run past your siblings in a mad dash down the hard wood stairs, sliding to a halt at the bottom, to see your darling mother and father sitting, her with her tea and him with his coffee. They smile and open their arms for morning hugs and you rush into their arms, happy that they love you so much.
They spin you around and start walking you to the door, telling you that a great suprise awaits you on the other side of the door. You quicken your pace and grin so happily. You skip to a stop in front of the door and reach up, up, up to the shiny gold door knob and twist the door open.
Your face is alight with expectation, what lies ahead? A visitor? An easter egg hunt? Presents? A puppy?
No.
Your face grows cold, your eyes well up with fear and your toes curl as you see what lies before you. Bunnies, dozens of stuffed toy bunnies hanging by their necks, swaying in the breeze and slightly damp in with the morning dew. Their dead, button eyes stare, forlornly at you, looking straight into your frightened little soul. You let out a small cry of fear and nearly wet yourself. You slam the door so quickly you cath your big toe under the door. You cry out again in pain and drop to the floor as your toes pretests and cries a small droplet of blood.
Your mother, deathly afraid of blood, faints and hits her head on the ground. Your father panics as he sees his child, now histerical, cry frantically at the sight of his mother.
The child is forever scarred and the next summer begins torturing small animals.
the end.
origin of this little story:
while i was out driving with my best friend, we had to drop a friend off at her house. It was about midnight and very, very dark outside. It was also drizzly and damp. As we made our way out of the neighborhood, i saw something move out the corner of my eye. It was the dead, bunny tree.
I am not sure what possessed the inhabitants of the house to decorate the large trees in their front yard with hung bunnies, but they went all out. Bunnies of all sizes and shapes were hung, by their necks and swayed in the wind, soaked by the rain. Being extremely tired this frightened the be-jezzus out of us. We quickly drove away and I concocted this little story.
-signing off and i hope you all had a good easter
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