FML

My life is like an insane carousel

and I don’t know how to stop it

If i can’t slow it down

I think I’m going to vomit

Everything around blurs

Round and around it goes

faces repeating in the haze

in my jolting highs and lows

as my body swings from here to there

I hang on with an iron grip

faster and faster the colors whirl

The moments cracking like a whip.

And I wonder how this can be real

how can it be reality?

when did I get on the ride?

and where will I be at the ride’s finality?

Who are the spectators whose eyes meet mine?

Who is the operator that spun me through time?

Through meetings and thoughts and all things gone wrong

they spin through my mind and yet still I did not fall.

 

 

[image by sewer-pancake]

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11 Reasons Why Game of Thrones with Animaniacs Characters would be a good idea.

Reason number one: The zany wacky loony world of Animaniacs is a perfect juxtaposition against the brutal and harsh world of Game of Thrones. Both are fantastic in different ways and although ice cream and pizza might be an odd combination of two excellent things I’d say this is more a Nutella-PB&J…with a side of orange spice snaps and salmon crabs stuffed with nuggets of caramel and Pentos apple taffy kind of idea. It’s good trust me on this.Such stark opposites could only get along.

422361-game-of-thrones-cast-banner-credit-hboTotallyinsaney

Reason number two: Animaniacs ended  on the air in 1998 meaning that anyone who was alive when this show was running is now over 18 years old (if you didn’t feel old already), yeah only adults can remember watching Animaniacs on the WB, if there was ever a reason to make more adult humor* about the universe, this is it. Game of thrones is ripe for a parody with giant sledge hammers, bulging surprise eyes, and zig-zaggy tongues just as much as Animaniacs could be ready for horrid violence and medieval political intrigue if it was done right. Imagine the reactions can happen when the white walkers show up. Without a doubt mixing the two things would have to be done carefully so as not to make Animaniacs needlessly violent and still retain the cold steel of realism that GoT has.  .

Reason number Three:

goodideabadidea

Narrator: “It’s time once again for another good idea, bad idea”

Narrator: “Good idea…”

[We see the mannequin resembling Ned Stark/Sean Bean in the tower of the hand’s solarium pawning over the book of lineages]

Narrator: “…Discovering the dark secret behind Jon Arryn’s murder…”

[Fade to black and then show Bad Idea title]

Narrator: “…Bad Idea…”

[Open to Stark/Bean mannequin confronting Slappy Squirrel as Cerci Lannister. Cerci folds her arms.]

Narrator: “Telling the one who murdered John Arryn that you figured out their dark secret.”

[Fade to black with drum roll]

[Open to  the Great Sept of Baelor in King’s Landing, we see the stage from the  far crowd where Slappy/Cerci stands with the high members of the court, Skippy/ Joffery orders Illan Payne forth, Stark/Bean Mannequin kneels before being beheaded**.]

[Show end title]

Narrator: “The End”

The-End-Good-Idea-Bad-Idea.png

Reason number Four: I already have the lyrics for the opening theme, if you need to refresh your memory this is the original.  The one thing you have to force is the “game of” into one syllable for all but the first chorus, but I’m not claiming that I’m a perfect lyricist. This also assumes that you go with the Animaniacs opening theme as opposed to the Game of Thrones one.

“It’s Game of Animaniacs,
and it’s zany to the max,
so get your sword and your axe,
which house will die off last?
Game of Animaniacs.

 

Come join the stark children,
and their stark sibling Dot,
Just for fun they run around Westeros a lot.
They throw them out the moon door,
Whenever they get caught,
but your favorite ones will lose their heads and now you know the plot.

 

Game of Animaniacs,
Sansa’s cute and Robb’s got class,
Jon’s a bastard of his dad, Bran won’t ever walk again,
Game of Animaniacs.

 

Meet Tyrion and Bronn who want to learn and make a purse,
Ned and Robert stick together, Cerci sends them to the Herse***,
Jorah chases Danni,
While Arrie sings a verse,
The writing’s fucked I’ve given up on who’s bad and who is worse,

 

Game of Animaniacs,
Brutality and flay-ing flesh,
Atrocities begin to mesh,
It’s fake folklore at its best,
It’s Animany,
Totally Insaney,
(More than a little Derangey,)

Game of anamaney-acs

You can-not go back.

donk.

 Reason Number Five:…I don’t have too much time on my hands and am a rational human being like you.

 Reason Number six: Imagine The Brain as Tyrion Lannister. Yeah. The Brain as Orson Wells as Tyrion Lannister walking around Westeros with an armored and deadly mercenary Pinkey. Tell me that’d not be fantastic and you’re spittle will dry in your mouth because I’ve poisoned your wine with “The strangler” for your heresy.

Joffrey_envenenado_HBO

This is you. This is what you get.

Reason Number Seven: Mindy as Dennarys Targaryan and Buttons as Jorah Mormont

.04464307595-buttons

Of all the Animaniacs shorts the Mindy/Buttons ones were my least favorite, it was a pretty drawn out ten minutes of the blissfully unaware innocent who narrowly avoids certain demise while an equally innocent takes all the hits cleshe of slapstick comedy (I ended up just feeling bad for Buttons). However, make Jorah Mormont a cartoon dog dedicated to pledging his life to an Idealistic Mindy who has the power of three Dragons and an army of freed slaves? I don’t care what happens that is pure gold.
Also this can happen at Astopor:

Dovaogēdys! Āeksia ossēnātās, menti ossēnātās, qilōni pilos lue vale tolvie ossēnātās, yn riñe dōre ōdrikātās. Urnet luo buzdaro tolvio belma pryjātās! Okay I love you Buhbye!”

[slave master is emulated by dragon fire]

Reason Number Eight: Rita as the murderous Arya Stark and Runt as the even more murderous Sandor Clegane. It’s a musical romp from the Riverlands to the twins and then back south to the Eyrie surrounded by the deaths of many villagers, bandits, and coincidental relatives. You will see such hits as
I put needle in your throat and now you can gurgle while I gloat.
and
Merrin Fucking Trent!” <<this conversation as a song, between these characters:

rita_and_runt__next_to_me_by_statx015-d64pd5n
the-hound-arya.jpg

Reason number nine: Dot would be a good Arya too…maybe once she gets out of westeros and handles that…face temple.

Ten: Wakko as Bran, maybe his warg powers turns the animals into a kind of Elvis impersonation. Who wouldn’t want to see Hodor sing blue suede shoes? I’m sure he knows all the lyrics.

Eleven: umm… Yakko using his cartoon invincibility and willy tricks to turn the red wedding into a kind of Scooby doo chase scene….

Anyway I’m losing steam with this*****, what with the wine, and the tiredness. It’s like 3 AM.

Comment if you have any ideas, if you are an animator steal mine ….I just want it to exist.

Footnotes:
* I realize that Animaniacs has a lot of adult humor already, but maybe just pushing the line a bit farther could be warranted. Or we could just leave it unspoiled.

**oh yeah SPOILERS!! That was season one/ book one stuff that was probably already ruined for you between now and 5 or 20 years ago. Also my theory is Jon is a Warg and is now living as his dyrewolf Ghost which is a cool prospect.

***Ohhh more stuff that had more than two decades of common knowledge****

****I’m pretty sure the majority of people don’t care about GoT/SOIAF spoilers anymore…I just wanted to be edgy… L

*****There are too many characters in GoT for it to match up perfectly but It would be good as just short snippits.

Okay I love you Buhbye!

Johnny5

<———continued from Johnny 4

The Ragallion Quadrant Skipper, broken of it’s restraints, cruised into the digital traffic lanes. The massive ship then unfurled two solar sails, catching the light and radiation to further power the thrusters.

All sorts of bells and whistles were going off in the huge chrome and white cockpit. Johnny jammed the thruster pedal with his boot and slammed the energy retention intake to maximum. A wide smile broke over his face, his eyes bulging, and the veins in his head pulsing. He did not heed any kind of protocol or decorum; simply on manual controls, Johnny’s head pounded with the thoughts a subwoffer might have during a series of deep base drones.

Pat’s voice came over the Radio after a calming series of notes amid the warnings and flashing lights.

“Hey man, I’m gonna try to talk you down. It might be kinda imposable, and you’re probably freaking out a little right now-”

Johnny’s smile and expression remained in his rageful mania as he grasped the controls to the multi-billion Credit vessel. Only his eyes moved, his pinpoint pupils and irises sliding to the right side of his head towards the mic.

“-but, you need to try to think about the consequences to your actions. It’s not to late to just stop and let me take over. You can calm down from this, I’ve seen it, It’s a fail safe for the solders so they don’t go Bonkers, you just need to focus on stopping and calming down.”

Johnny’s brain did not hear a word after “think about the consequences”. He imagined continuing to pilot the vessel across the spaceport towards the docking station. He thought about how when the ship collided with the observation room, the consequence would be a massive explosion.The Regallion was a large ship with thousands of gallons of fuel along with the reactor coils from it’s solar array. The wreckage and destruction would likely result in docking bay 27’s shut down for years.  Surely this would be enough to accomplish his goal of killing Pat.

Gripping the controls and grinding his teeth, he pressed forward on the accelerator. A freighter vessel on an intersecting course pulled up just before the space-ship thundered past, it’s V9-TX main thrusters had the force to send the small (more modern) Carrillion  spinning out into space as the Ragallion blew by.

Johnny thought about how much Pat deserved to die for his transgression and like the pinpoints of his pupils, his vision was in a direct tunnel towards reaching that goal. That was until one thought floated through his narrow gaze. To be fair it was part of a larger feeling. It went something like this:

“killpatkillpatkillpatkillpatkillpatkillpatfasterfasterfasterfasterfasterKill Pat I’m going to explode KILL PAT KILL-”

Like the rest of a dubstep song after the drop, his addled thoughts and anger all crashed together into a cacophony of chaos.

“I’m going to explode.”

Johnny pulled his foot back from the accelerator. His brain was suddenly conflicted.

“But I need to kill Pat.”

“But I’m going to die”

“Why do I need to kill Pat?”

“Because…he …did something”

The Regallion, still at a hideous momentum for the spaceport, hurtled on as docking bay 27 neared.

Johnny4

“WHY DO YOU EVEN HAVE THOSE!!” Johnny squeaked into the mic, sweat beading on his forehead and commingling with the irritated skin on his pimple thing. The vision around the exact point he was looking blended together in faded colors as his pupils shrunk to about half their normal size.

“Hey man, chill out, this isn’t a secure channel.” Said Pat “Just try to find a way to-”

“Did you just tell the guy – you gave combat stimulants to – to calm down?” asked Johnny, the tingling bumping pulsing adrenaline coursing through his dilated veins speeding up now.

“Listen,” Said Pat “you’re going to be fine if you just-”

“No, You listen, I think there is a fundamental flaw in your fucking logic!” Johnny said hunched over the controls, breathing heavy, the frustration of the hangover, the tunnel vision of the stimulants, the sting on his forehead. “I don’t have a freakin’ choice, I’m NOT going to calm down, and I’m going to take the ship in docking bay 556 back, and when I do, I’m gonna RAM IT UP YOUR FUCKING ASS!”. In that moment, the pressure in his head had built up to the point where the bump on his forehead burst open, and a fleck of white shot out and landed on the observation window.

“Johnny-”

Johnny smashed his fist into the button for the mic, his face purple with the onset of a vicious rage. He made his way to the airlock door which opened before him into the dock with the transporter as the lone object in the white paneled room. His boots scuffed against the linoleum floor, the red in his eyes were that of crimson hatred and anxiety.  Blood ran in a small rivulet from his forehead.

(I feel as though here it may be necessary to tell you a little about the drug Pat had unwittedly given his co-worker. What he thought was basic acetaminophen was actually a chemical compound labeled only under the TOP SECRET database at the Federation capital. No one besides high level security forces actually knew it’s chemical name and it’s strict monitoring made it a nearly imposable substance to obtain relationally. Pat had some serious connections, and friends with drug problems. Simply known to the small levels of proliferation, both legal and illicit, the compound was simply called “Stims”.

Stims legal uses were to give to drop troops as they were about to hurtle from an orbital platform through a planet’s atmosphere and immediately into heavy ground combat. The Drug balanced out certain chemicals for peak awareness, pain reduction, endurance, and control.

This had the overall effect of actually heightening one’s metabolism, blood flow, O2 intake, speed, focus, and irritability for one at rest; It’s “control” effects only helpful to those under extreme physical conditions. The depressant effects of the alcohol, the dehydration of the hangover, and his previous irritability commingled with the Stims that had only begun to enter his body. He was beginning to “come up” as it were, but at the “peak” of the combined effects….)

Johnny dropped the ignition key for the Carrilion on the floor and waited on the transporter. A moment later the blue light swirled around him and he was at docking bay 556. He moved like an ape machine, snatching the ignition key for the Quadrant Skipper and stepping through the air locking doors. The Quadrent skipper was a long term space passenger ship, made for the opulent and well to do, like a yatchet or something. This one was named the Regallion.

Johnny moved through the living space, the game tables and puffy couches in recessed areas in the floor passed as unnoticed as the minibar near the cockpit. The valet jumped into the pilot seat, turned the ignition key, punched in the clearance numbers, and ratcheted up the thrusters to full power.

The kinetic energy of the space yacht’s engines scored the rear wall of the spaceport and the ship groaned as the coupling arms fought against their force. A heaving sound of metal would have been heard by Johnny if he was not an ion in a building torrent of anger. Instead, he was just, “aware” that the couplings had broken off and the ship was flung forwards into space.

He had one goal forming in his mind. It began as rational as anyone could be. he was going to bring back the ship needed at the docking bay, collect any tip, and return to pat, very perturbed about the fact that he had been given something he did not expect.

This idea changed in a manner of moments, and although at the time his remark of, quote, “…I’m gonna RAM [the ship from docking bay 556] UP YOUR FUCKING ASS!” was largely an empty threat, it began ringing through his mind. The moment of running the Quadrant Skipper into the observation room, the huge explosion, the crushing metal. It all became….so appealing.

To be continued.

Johnny2

<——–Continued from Johnny 1

“Hey man, I’m sorry.” Johnny said, stepping off the raised disk, his legs feeling like jello, his head feeling like fifty pounds. “I have a wicked hangover.”

His co-worker’s name was Pat. Pat was a bigger guy. Pat laughed.

“I hear that. You look like you were hit by a truck.” (trucks were outdated, but the expression still hung around)

Johnny smiled slightly and sat next to Pat at the control table. The sudden rest brought Johnny down on his elbows against the console. He groaned.

“Is it really that bad?” said Pat.

“I’d be fine if the window broke and I was sucked out into space.” mumbled Johnny

“Well I have some motren.”

“motren?” said Johnny, his head still firmly planted in his arms.

“If you wanted some.”

“I’ve never taken any for a hangover before.” Johnny said into the table.

“What?” said Pat. “You’ve never taken medicine for a hangover?”

Johnny looked up just to see Pat’s genuine reaction of shock.

“Nah, I only ever just rode them out.”

“That’s crazy. I never would have made it through the academy without motrin or stims.”

“To be fair, I’ve only ever had three really bad hangovers. This one might be four. I was up till Five at Dave’s unit, and I ended up sleeping on his couch until One. I had to deposit my credits at the bank and return a book before I caught an hour nap back at home. Now I”m at this here.”

Johnny thunked his head against the table, suddenly realizing that he needed to be awake. He lifted his head and nearly fell backwards as he straitened himself in the chair. Pat could see the glassy redness of Johnny’s eyes and the pain in his expression.

“Damn. Look take three of these.” Pat dug into his pocket and produced a bottle, dumped out three pills and handed them towards Johnny.

Johnny regarded the offering of three red diamond shaped pills skeptically. Sure he had worked with Pat for a few months, but he didn’t really know the guy. Those pills could be anything. They sat there, mysteriously holding any possible effect within them from poisons to hallucinogenics. Their reaction with his body was completely unknown.

But that never stopped him before.

He held out his hand meagerly and Pat flipped his hand over, dumping the caplets into Johnny’s who quickly pretended to take all three in one gulp. In reality Johnny only swallowed two, just to be safe. He snuck the third into his pocket.

Just then, the lights and warnings on the console in front of the two whirred and beeped. Pat stood, checking none of them.

“Well I guess we have one incoming.” Said Pat. “I’ll take the first one, you…you hang out for a second.”  Pat strolled over to the transporter and in a sudden whirr of blue energy was de-atomized from the room.

Johnny looked out the observation window to see a new elite class Vector Stromirani making its way towards the dock. Those things were F-A-S-T with two outboard V-X Jupiter rockets, sleek thrusters and paneling. The cabin interior was opulent without being to…verbose. It brought a smile to Johnny’s face to see it, they handled like second body to him, a big metal body that could break space and time but still be smooth and light on the controls. This one was orange with blue accents. If he had 38,000,000 Credits, that’s the kind of ship he would get, only in black and red.

The Vector docked for a moment in the exchange Johnny knew so well (as it was his current employment). A minute later the ship took off towards the hanger at the top of the space station. He watched the dream ship until it was cut off from his view. The thought of piloting one again left him him in a lingering daze, he even forgot his hangover for a delirious moment before it was quickly brought back to him by the sudden whirr of controls and warnings.

A pit formed in his stomach as he waited for the ID number. It started with F67- which meant it was a freighter. He sighed as he stood and looked out the window.

A Carrilian Orion. The clunkiest, most utilitarian ship that visited the station. Normally they arrived at the service dock. Dock 27 was for patrons and travelers. He turned, still bleary eyed to a small microphone on the control panel.

“F67-GTMF3.” He said into the mic “State your purpose on Station Five.”

A crackly voice returned.

“Name’s Orely, a gambler from Omega, here to see the games of chance on Station Five. I won this ship fair and square, I know it’s-”

The Orely guy continued talking long after Johnny lost interest. He wasn’t a lost freight driver.

Johnny switched off the mic and waited for the ship to dock at the bay before hopping (as well as he could “hop”) onto the transporter. In a wirr of blue energy he arrived at the staging area of the docking station. The couplings latched on to the fuselage of the Orion and the airlock door opened revealing a tall gentlemen in a white suit and a wide brimmed hat, opulently dressed. Johnny with his Mohawk, work shirt, shorts and boots looked dejectedly at the man.

Orely stepped out into the staging area towards the podium and transporter where Johnny stood.

“I say boy, do keep it close,” He said “I know it’s a piece of junk, but its my piece of junk, and there’s more where this came from…”

Orely held out a bill worth 500 units.

Johnny perked up as well as he could, making sure the bill made it safely and quickly into his shorts pocket before holding up a small plastic card on his belt. Which scanned Orely’s ID card automatically. The strange gambler mozied on past Johnny’s podium and through an automatic door to the Traveler’s Lounge.

“Have a good time on station five!” Mumbled Johnny. He looked at the door to the Hefty ship and walked through to the drivers seat.

His headache seemed to be fading as he powered up the thrusters, The couplings detached and the ship freed into space. Then the spots appeared.

Activity Update

I salute you. Thanks to all my followers and readers, you are great!

poster

So, For those of you who have been waiting for more Sci Fi fox or Good & Evil, I should not, but I must make the same unfortunate excuse as anyone who makes comics, that it takes a while. Since I’m not much in the way of drawing, It’s not that I’m working on one page for all this time, but I hope to put up many pages at once at once rather than keep the story so segmented for both. Issue 2 of G & E will be done soon. It’s a couple pages longer, But I will reboot the past issue with it.

Anyway, if you like my writing at all, please don’t hesitate to let me know. If you don’t like my writing, well, no one asked you. If you don’t have the attention span to read, then I guess I can only blame you for being uncultured swine. Since the majority of people rarely read past the first sentence, this is kind of an inside joke right now between you and me (hehe).
I made this poster, more comics will be soon, for now I leave you with space police:

 

 

The company of cats.

All in all I’d say that I enjoy the company of animals over that of humanity. Specifically cats, and if the mood strikes me I rather enjoy birds for a time. Yet rarely do these two coincide, for one tries to be free of all things that tether it to the earth while the other takes pleasure in the killing it’s prey. It is odd, because in that regard, the birds, always are searching and neurotically pronouncing their freedom, are never as free as the cat. In fact I must say that at this moment I’ve made the decision that the company of cats is probably the best company to keep.

Dogs depend on one another, and depend on surviving in an order to which they are loyal and happily in a degree of subservience. I might add that there may not be anything wrong with being content in subservience, only as long as one has their dignity in accepting their place. I have never known or met a cat that would be so dependable. I would rely on a dog to fight with me, and only rely on a cat if in the best terms, and even then cats can hold such a state of aloof ambivalence that they are unpredictable in their true convictions. Dogs are never as free as cats because they are bound by an order. A lone feral dog does not usually do well for itself. Always they are looking for that but cannot find. They carry a chip on their shoulder and burn out like a star after their life of skulking and killing gets to them.

Cats exist in this world knowing that they are alone from the getgo. They exist to serve their desires and maintain a confidence in that their decisions are what keeps them alive. Yet this solidarity does not mean that they do not enjoy the pleasures of their own. Cats find the regular opportunities to make love in a way humans endlessly fail at grasping.

The only comparable creature who might be as free and with very interesting romantic inclinations is that of the Fox. The fox has a long courtship by comparison to the other two species where they chase each other around with their little games until a conclusion is reached, they both win, and they raise their children together. They do this every year or so with various partners or the same, which is a very civilized system. It is in the fox that one sees the energy and dumb love of the dog, and the aloof smirk of the cat. Alas, foxes are bandits and thrive on having their games to play. If they aren’t outsmarting someone, they are likely being hopelessly outsmarted. When that happens they die.

Instead of getting caught up in this game or that, the Cat will ignore the game and just take the reward. Once they do get caught up, they know they are useless.

You have to relate the existence of all creatures to that of their relativity to humanity, and in the case of the Fox, they are a pest and killed with little remorse. The Dog holds the exalted place of “Man’s best friend” and will  lie under the table, happy with scraps. Yet the cat, the cat can exist in both worlds. It is a place that mythology once gave the Fox because of their nature to be seen at dusk, the worlds of night and day. Yet more fitting in this dominated world, the true shape-shifter is the cat.

That is why I find myself so alike the cat.

 

The finest part of living with creatures overall is that there are no words. No ugly, in the way-tangle-in-your-mouth words. All words do is mangle how people feel, what is true, and what is not. For instance, if you asked a cat which religion has the true god, he would look at you only with confusion. If you asked a cat how to tell a woman you love her, he would have no earthly idea what you mean. Even if they did talk, the notion of feeling things while not feeling them at the moment, is absurd and an impossible craft to attempt. All there is, is feeling and action. You are given the tools to survive in your hands er…paws, and you take what you can from the world that put you here.

It’s much easier for a cat to do this, because they have no laws. It begs the question of how many cats actually get away with murder.
I woke up Thursday on the dashboard of a derelict van. The sun that beamed through the windscreen was extraordinarily hot and I abandoned sleeping longer. Peering out from my van I saw that it was a bright day with a clear blue sky  beyond the piles of smashed up cars. Over the distant skyline. I wandered for a while through the junkyard, and found nothing of interest. I decided that perhaps I should return to my apartment. I began feeling like I was losing touch again with society.

I made my way through the chain fence of the junkyard and down the alley to a clothing store. Inside I changed and left with a clean black suit. I did not pay for it, but I would return at some other time. The clerk had not even seen me enter or leave so it was as if I was never there. She was half asleep reading a catalog with a big bubble of chewing gum during both events.

I recalled the smell of cigarettes from the cafe across the street, and politely asked for one. The man was with his girlfriend of some kind and did not want to seem stingy or uncharitable. He gave me one to that effect and lit it for me. I thanked him on his charity and he said to think nothing of it. His girlfriend, politely waited for me to leave before talking. The man smiled proudly as I left, he really just wanted to look as frivolous as possible to compensate for the little money he had. I knew this shortly because the wallet I took from his breast pocket had barely enough to catch a train downtown.

I supposed it could not be helped. He probably was going to feign something about not having his wallet with him anyway once the check came.

I puffed the cigarette as I walked. looking up at the street signs. the cars honking and flying down the road. People passed me as I walked. In such a hurry! It is amazing how such a species could dominate the world and only succeed in making life harder for themselves. To make time this special commodity when time is an impossible thing to save up for or create. To whoever is making a profit off of all this, I tip my hat.

I turned the corner at the first street I recognized as intersecting near the train station. Letting out a drag I was immediately distracted when I saw this creature strolling ahead of me. She wore a white dress with a black band around her waist. her collar was tinged with black, and she had a straw hat turned to the side. I must admit however, I could not take my eyes off that lythe form. The white dress outlined her figure so well in the sunshine. One aspect of her anatomy was extenuated by the black band around her waist.

I shook myself from my head, and was overcome with an irresistible urge. I ran after her and put my hand on her shoulder.

“Hello” I said coolly.

She stopped and looked at me, Her big green eyes in the center of a wonderful face. She looked down at my hand.

“h-hello?”

“You know I have an apartment we could go to.”

“GET OFF OF ME!” She said and swung her black gloved fist into my jaw. I fell to the ground, and she stormed off.

 

I took time before I pulled myself up, collected the cigarette that fell from my mouth and watched her confidently pump down the street. Onlookers giggled at me.

 

As I walked towards the train station, I realized that my fresh bruise, new suit, and brown leather wallet, were all proofs that I had indeed spent too much time in the company of cats.

Arrie the Kitsune

1
Twas back in time of woe-sung rhyme
That one of the fox-folk, Arrie so named,
Did from the high mountains so wooded in rime
Came down to the lands of men to play games

At forest’s edge she went in disguise
Where the trees and fields make their meet
A glint of mischief she held in her eyes
For a trick or love to toy she did seek

Through fields she set off like wind through rushes
Arrived at the road near fall of night’s cowl
Feared not she be looked on, such is,
Silver moonbeams never treat he so fowl

How eyes do trick in the night’s light
None could be wiser to the maiden’s sight
2
The waving grain made a windy part
Silent footfall upon dry crumbled husk
Gust of wind rustled the tarp of a cart
The driver admired the cooling dusk

Enjoying the sounds of his wagon’s creaks
Wound down the road this village merchant took
As the way ribboned its way to the east
Never a rearward glance he took to look

Saw the heaps of thatch rise from yonder hill
Little known to his passenger’s fine feast
The little demon took up her fill
Enjoyed his shipment of fine meats

So filled with prospects of his new venture
Heeded not the puzzling sound of laughter

3
To the warm light of street shops she crept
And snatched up a dress remaining unseen
Unwatched by the throng she needn’t repent
Placed it on neat by two buildings between
Yet then by eye a luminent gleam
With a gander across from alleyway nook
She lent on the corner to gather the scene
Orbs of orange marched like embered brook
Demons masked in festive preen, lanterns took
Like painted pagans the townsfolk danced free
Music weaved sateen through the crowds they shook
Arrie smiled at the mirth she did see
“What curious sight” thought the kitsune

4
Needn’t she fear the scrutning eyes of men
guise she dropped taking on her true form
danced among the music seen as a friend
Intoxicating dew, firelight warm

Around the great blazes they sung their sounds
Of all mischief Arrie seemed to forget
Mask among mask pounded foot against ground
One foxian face shown through bare, there yet

Food and stories the reveled folk shared
Returned with steps of tumultuous laugh
Though some thought her tales were quite rare
Not one had guessed from where she made her path

With jokes and wit told here and there, Arrie did not fail
And she smirked at the compliments on the craft of her tail
5
The festival reeved with a drunken muse
Lines hand in hand ran through the streets
Salty snapping meats running with juice
Smiling eyes to joyous tambourine beats

Arrie drank nearly the whole of a cask
Witnessed’ agape with curiosity
How easy for her to drink through her mask
And wipe her mouth with ferocity

In the midst of the mirth then caught surprise
The watchful eyes of a man clad in grace
To show under her mask he asked for comply
And wished he to set upon her true face

Pulled from her daze she turned her back to him
And re-turned with a kindly illusion
6
Visage of a stunning woman she passed
With hair of black and eyes of icy blue
Her form seen kindly subtle, now while masked
Eyes met Gazing, dizzy warmth flutter flew

His face was less than fair as fair may be
held something yet behind those auburn eyes
resisted strange gravity, held she to see
her mind had set work on him with apprise

Asked he then with an outstretched steady hand
To join him in the last festive dance
Arrie the demon could not understand
How this mortal could put her in a trance

With the flutes rising she took the offer
Swept in the masquerade to his proffer
7
Knowing no dance, his guide was her portal
Lively the veiled casted their costumes aside
In bacchius haze she danced with the mortal
Less known her the truth to be descried

To his arms she fell, and he did embrace
The music background seemed to fall fell
In soft current of their step, all erased
Warmth of touch driving unholy impel

With eyes that betrayed, she looked upon him
An earnest presence returned his graces
Desire takes aside all forethought whim
In the eternity of meeting faces

Replaced with a whim of desire sore missed
Did in the harvest, the lord and the demon kiss
8
Be what be and be what may be said
What kindled with the thicket fires
That in her tale when awoke so fed
And lived new where lived her desires

Sprang to realize what desires displaced
Fled she away in the morning hours
Gone she was, never more a trace
Far to where lived her old powers

And when awoke he to empty sight
Recalling what in night he had seen
Startled struck with a sudden fright
And pondered nothing more than a dream

When the night winds swift  to daylight’s break
Not one sees the fox’s flight as they wake