Before I even get started, if you haven't seen the movie Idiocracy go now. Do it. This will still be here when the movie's over.
Back from Netflix? Fantastic! Let's get to it.
On a daily basis, through various mediums I'm exposed daily to just how badly our society (as a general blanket statement) has regressed. We've gone from grunting cave dwellers that paint on our walls with blood and flowers to the architects of legendary monolithic skyscrapers on a regular basis. We've gone from the abacus to building computers that are actually smarter than we are (Watson. Google it.). And yet every day, there's some blast of utter stupidity. Are we truly the last generation of people capable of using their brains?! In my current employment, I deal with many 20-something individuals. On a one to one basis, they're pretty solid. They're still kids comparatively, and party as hard as they work. Nothing wrong with that at all. But once in a while, there's something that gnaws at me like a thorn in this old bear's paw.
Ok, maybe my title was a little extreme. But I do feel that people have forgotten the meaning of discretion. The fact that despite the social networking sites, there's some things people just try to keep private. Discretion is a lost art to most. Just yesterday on a friend's status post about going to a bar in Keizer, Oregon for quarter beers, one of their friends was like "THOTT U WER PREGGO?!" Obviously, if she went for quarter beers, she's not knocked up. She's not that stupid. I'm also fairly sure she thanks you for having so much faith in her intelligence.
Seriously, if as a species we're losing such crucial parts of human interaction as respect and discretion, I'm truly frightened what's next. I'm also terribly scared of the days when we're revered as geniuses in history books nobody will know how to read while people water their crops with energy drinks, staring at someone like they're high when they suggest using water. "But it has electrolytes."
Maybe the title wasn't so extreme after all..
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Holy hell, it's been a while!
So much has happened in the last few weeks. Whirlwind of change style. Go ahead and grab your coffee, monster, soda.. oh hell, it's lunch time for most of you. I just crawled out of bed! iFail! Remix! Grab your cheeseburgers, tacos, or whatever mad scientist alchemy you can pull out of your fridge and buckle in. Ready? LET'S GO!!
Major happenings!
I've reconnected with the one woman that truly makes me feel whole. She's literally my other half. My drive, my happiness, my pride and joy.. my angel. This brings me happiness beyond measure! I'm still the same ol' me. I should still come with a warning label that says "CAUTION: I do dumb things!" but to prove to her that she means so much to me, I'm making a huge effort to cut down on my stupidity. I'm also making a massive effort to break out of the stagnant shell I was wearing. I was a TERRIBLE house keeper (Working on it!), I work about fifteen hours a week.. come the fuck on! I need income! I cheated on her about a bazillion times.. never again. In fact, when my friend (an ex girlfriend) said she really needed a place to stay, I consulted her before I even sent a reply... and it was her that sent the reply, not me. Yeah, she's a keeper. I intend to behave accordingly!
That brings me to the new roommate! She was entirely up shit's creek without a paddle. I'll leave the situation for her to discuss if she decides you need to hear about it. It wasn't cool at all. Since my brother had been living with his girlfriend for quite a while, I asked if he minded cleaning his room up so that I could offer her a place to stay. He one-upped me and actually moved 90% of his stuff out. Part of that was a miscommunication, because other people were trying to handle my business (A direct result of him not responding to my texts except for a phone call a few days later.. par for the course for the guy. He's pretty busy lately.) and we've since talked, and I explained that to him. BUT! I have a roomie that pays bills, and I rarely see, even when she's here. The latter part is because she likes to have a place to hide and decompress, but she says it's to stay out of my way. How much in my way can someone get?! I go room to fridge/coffee pot to computer. That's about it, unless I'm either going to work or looking FOR work, and most jobs post their openings online now which works out marvelously for me.
My book has been COMPLETELY neglected, unfortunately. I'm working on fixing that too. I started writing the other day, but the words were coming very slow due to massive distractions. My phone was going off, I wasn't listening to the right music I usually write to, and then my girlfriend came over. Not very beneficial to productivity, but if I said I wasn't ecstatic about it, I'd be lying.
I realized through a bit of spelunking on my favored spiritual website that I've actually been taking a Year and a Day class! Yes, this means I'll be paying much more attention to "Day X - Subject". I caught up ENTIRELY last night, save for consecrating some "holy water". As I don't have a container with a lid that fits the description, if I'm going to need it for something, I'll plan a few days in advance. This also alters my consciousness a little in other ways. Typically, I viewed Sundays as my day to screw off due to the quote "Sunday is the day of rest." Well, now it's "Saturday is the day to play."
On my birthday, I plan to begin the "No Excuses Workout", also offered by Old Ways. You can find this at http://oldways.com/features/noexcuses.html and watching Jeffrey's transformation has been rather incredible. That tells me that it works! Happy Monday to me!
Oh yeah.. I turn 32 Monday. No big deal, but I think my angel and my brother are conspiring. We'll see what happens. I'm not so big on my own birthday. Last year was the first birthday party I'd had since I was 17 and sold my Super Nintendo to get a half gallon of vodka.. which I drank by myself. I didn't even tear it up on my 21st, just went out with my dad for a few drinks. I'll be pouring out a Guinness Extra Stout on Monday in his memory. If you ever met the man, I invite you to do the same. That was his favorite.
My intent for today -
Go outside and welcome today, express my intent to the sun, and thank the sun and the day for coming. Come back inside, read today's lesson, then get to work. My plan is to scour Craigslist for suitable jobs, then hit a few websites. My aim for a new job is something part to full time to supplement my current income rather than replacing my job at the bar. I know I can handle two jobs, so why the hell shouldn't I? After spending at least two hours looking for work, I'll dig into some housework and try to catch up the festering mess that is my apartment. I know I can get at least the carpets done today, and I'll go over the parts of my house that are already clean as maintenance. After housework, I plan to finish writing at least the chapter I started on Friday, and possibly bang out a second.
I leave you readers with a random observation that I meant to actually write about last night.
My roomie bought a loaf of French bread the other day to eat with her dinner. I openly admit I've had a few slices myself. lol YUM! Anyway, Friday, she left it out of the bag, and the cut end was starting to dry up. Like rock hard starting to dry up. I poked the top, there was no give at all. No awesome fresh bread squish. Having grown up dirt poor, this initially frustrated me to no end. YOU DON'T WASTE FOOD!! But then I stopped and thought about it. The hard part couldn't be very deep after only two days. I cut a few small slices off, maybe an eighth of an inch thick until I found the squishy bits. I thought about saving those for croutons, but the likelihood of me eating a salad in the next few days is imaginary. Sadly, that's two wasted slices of bread. On the bright side, the tougher crust from being exposed to air surrenders even better to a good knife and the bread holds up it's shape when you slice it instead of squishing! I might actually do this to EVERY partial loaf of French bread that enters the house. Especially if I plan on a salad on day two!
Well, that's it for today! Blessed be, thanks for reading, and I'll see you next time!
Major happenings!
I've reconnected with the one woman that truly makes me feel whole. She's literally my other half. My drive, my happiness, my pride and joy.. my angel. This brings me happiness beyond measure! I'm still the same ol' me. I should still come with a warning label that says "CAUTION: I do dumb things!" but to prove to her that she means so much to me, I'm making a huge effort to cut down on my stupidity. I'm also making a massive effort to break out of the stagnant shell I was wearing. I was a TERRIBLE house keeper (Working on it!), I work about fifteen hours a week.. come the fuck on! I need income! I cheated on her about a bazillion times.. never again. In fact, when my friend (an ex girlfriend) said she really needed a place to stay, I consulted her before I even sent a reply... and it was her that sent the reply, not me. Yeah, she's a keeper. I intend to behave accordingly!
That brings me to the new roommate! She was entirely up shit's creek without a paddle. I'll leave the situation for her to discuss if she decides you need to hear about it. It wasn't cool at all. Since my brother had been living with his girlfriend for quite a while, I asked if he minded cleaning his room up so that I could offer her a place to stay. He one-upped me and actually moved 90% of his stuff out. Part of that was a miscommunication, because other people were trying to handle my business (A direct result of him not responding to my texts except for a phone call a few days later.. par for the course for the guy. He's pretty busy lately.) and we've since talked, and I explained that to him. BUT! I have a roomie that pays bills, and I rarely see, even when she's here. The latter part is because she likes to have a place to hide and decompress, but she says it's to stay out of my way. How much in my way can someone get?! I go room to fridge/coffee pot to computer. That's about it, unless I'm either going to work or looking FOR work, and most jobs post their openings online now which works out marvelously for me.
My book has been COMPLETELY neglected, unfortunately. I'm working on fixing that too. I started writing the other day, but the words were coming very slow due to massive distractions. My phone was going off, I wasn't listening to the right music I usually write to, and then my girlfriend came over. Not very beneficial to productivity, but if I said I wasn't ecstatic about it, I'd be lying.
I realized through a bit of spelunking on my favored spiritual website that I've actually been taking a Year and a Day class! Yes, this means I'll be paying much more attention to "Day X - Subject". I caught up ENTIRELY last night, save for consecrating some "holy water". As I don't have a container with a lid that fits the description, if I'm going to need it for something, I'll plan a few days in advance. This also alters my consciousness a little in other ways. Typically, I viewed Sundays as my day to screw off due to the quote "Sunday is the day of rest." Well, now it's "Saturday is the day to play."
On my birthday, I plan to begin the "No Excuses Workout", also offered by Old Ways. You can find this at http://oldways.com/features/noexcuses.html and watching Jeffrey's transformation has been rather incredible. That tells me that it works! Happy Monday to me!
Oh yeah.. I turn 32 Monday. No big deal, but I think my angel and my brother are conspiring. We'll see what happens. I'm not so big on my own birthday. Last year was the first birthday party I'd had since I was 17 and sold my Super Nintendo to get a half gallon of vodka.. which I drank by myself. I didn't even tear it up on my 21st, just went out with my dad for a few drinks. I'll be pouring out a Guinness Extra Stout on Monday in his memory. If you ever met the man, I invite you to do the same. That was his favorite.
My intent for today -
Go outside and welcome today, express my intent to the sun, and thank the sun and the day for coming. Come back inside, read today's lesson, then get to work. My plan is to scour Craigslist for suitable jobs, then hit a few websites. My aim for a new job is something part to full time to supplement my current income rather than replacing my job at the bar. I know I can handle two jobs, so why the hell shouldn't I? After spending at least two hours looking for work, I'll dig into some housework and try to catch up the festering mess that is my apartment. I know I can get at least the carpets done today, and I'll go over the parts of my house that are already clean as maintenance. After housework, I plan to finish writing at least the chapter I started on Friday, and possibly bang out a second.
I leave you readers with a random observation that I meant to actually write about last night.
My roomie bought a loaf of French bread the other day to eat with her dinner. I openly admit I've had a few slices myself. lol YUM! Anyway, Friday, she left it out of the bag, and the cut end was starting to dry up. Like rock hard starting to dry up. I poked the top, there was no give at all. No awesome fresh bread squish. Having grown up dirt poor, this initially frustrated me to no end. YOU DON'T WASTE FOOD!! But then I stopped and thought about it. The hard part couldn't be very deep after only two days. I cut a few small slices off, maybe an eighth of an inch thick until I found the squishy bits. I thought about saving those for croutons, but the likelihood of me eating a salad in the next few days is imaginary. Sadly, that's two wasted slices of bread. On the bright side, the tougher crust from being exposed to air surrenders even better to a good knife and the bread holds up it's shape when you slice it instead of squishing! I might actually do this to EVERY partial loaf of French bread that enters the house. Especially if I plan on a salad on day two!
Well, that's it for today! Blessed be, thanks for reading, and I'll see you next time!
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Happy Holidays from the NBA? I'm on board!
After a whole lot of work lost to greed on both ends, the NBAPA and the league owners came together and made it happen. We won't lose the whole season. In fact, the 66-game season starts tomorrow. Merry Christmas from the NBA right? Hell yes, I'd say! I've always said football was my first love. It's true, to humanize these sports, football's my wife. She's been with me since day one, always had my back.. but she knows about my secret on the side flame I see when I'm out of town. Basketball. Yeah, sports are that serious to me. So when the NBA lockout cost us about four months of sports, news, and ultimately happiness, I was PISSED. Now? I'm excited.. on the edge of my seat with misty eyes. That said, what am I looking for out of this season? I'll tell you.
I've been a Kevin Garnett fan since he was drafted. Now, he's an old ass man by NBA standards, but until he's traded or retired I'm screaming GO CELTICS! I know for a fact their window of opportunity slammed shut. KG can't hack it nearly as well anymore. Ray Allen's still killing it, legitimately the best shooter in the NBA. Paul Pierce is aging too. He can carry a team, and he's the heart and soul of the C's, but he's showing his age from doing exactly that until they picked up KG and Ray Allen. I understand the philosophy of picking up the aging vets that have proven themselves, but it's time the Celtics go young. That said.. my pick for the east is Miami (again). D-Wade, King James, and Chris Bosh together just serve to legitimize the fact that NBA teams need a three horse stable these days to compete, and these three young men are some of the best at what they do. I love my Celtics, and I have MAJOR respect for the Bulls, but Miami's going to the finals again.
The Western Conference is a whole different breed. There's so much parity in the West it makes the NFL look sloppy (Parity is why they moved Seattle to the NFC West, btw). The perennial powerhouses are still in tact: The Lakers look great. The Spurs are showing their age, but still getting the job done. Dallas is gonna be a tough team for anyone this year. Portland made some key pick-ups too, and they're my Home team. If you've never been to the Rose Garden for an important Western Conference match-up, you haven't LIVED. But there's upstarts.. Insurgents if you will. The perma-struggling Clippers now have that three horse stable I mentioned. Blake Griffin, Chris Paul, and DeShawn Jordan. That's two VERY good big fellas in the paint, and one of the most dangerous point guards in the NBA, along with Eric Gordon at the 2. I'm sold.. In fact, I think the Clippers will make the playoffs this year. However, I very strongly feel that the West is gonna come down to two teams. Dallas and (Drum roll please...) MINNESOTA! That's right. Our Lake Oswego native, Kevin Love, who showed stellar play last season, averaging a double-double (I think he was averaging 17 PPG and 15 RPG) and currently holds the longest streak of double-doubles in the NBA, got himself an amazing little Spaniard. Ricky Rubio's young, flashy, and absolutely brilliant in what I've seen of him. Even showboating like he's playing on the black top, Rubio's play looks fluid, effortless, and most importantly, EFFECTIVE. While my last NBA post mentioned wanting to see Kevin Love come home to Portland (I still wanna see that, by the way!) he's a great fit for the Timberwolves. Face of the franchise in the post-KG era. I wish him nothing but the best, and if Rubio keeps up the amazing level of play he showed in the preseason and in Spain, they'll have an amazing season.
This also gives me an idea for tomorrow's blog! Stay tuned.
I've been a Kevin Garnett fan since he was drafted. Now, he's an old ass man by NBA standards, but until he's traded or retired I'm screaming GO CELTICS! I know for a fact their window of opportunity slammed shut. KG can't hack it nearly as well anymore. Ray Allen's still killing it, legitimately the best shooter in the NBA. Paul Pierce is aging too. He can carry a team, and he's the heart and soul of the C's, but he's showing his age from doing exactly that until they picked up KG and Ray Allen. I understand the philosophy of picking up the aging vets that have proven themselves, but it's time the Celtics go young. That said.. my pick for the east is Miami (again). D-Wade, King James, and Chris Bosh together just serve to legitimize the fact that NBA teams need a three horse stable these days to compete, and these three young men are some of the best at what they do. I love my Celtics, and I have MAJOR respect for the Bulls, but Miami's going to the finals again.
The Western Conference is a whole different breed. There's so much parity in the West it makes the NFL look sloppy (Parity is why they moved Seattle to the NFC West, btw). The perennial powerhouses are still in tact: The Lakers look great. The Spurs are showing their age, but still getting the job done. Dallas is gonna be a tough team for anyone this year. Portland made some key pick-ups too, and they're my Home team. If you've never been to the Rose Garden for an important Western Conference match-up, you haven't LIVED. But there's upstarts.. Insurgents if you will. The perma-struggling Clippers now have that three horse stable I mentioned. Blake Griffin, Chris Paul, and DeShawn Jordan. That's two VERY good big fellas in the paint, and one of the most dangerous point guards in the NBA, along with Eric Gordon at the 2. I'm sold.. In fact, I think the Clippers will make the playoffs this year. However, I very strongly feel that the West is gonna come down to two teams. Dallas and (Drum roll please...) MINNESOTA! That's right. Our Lake Oswego native, Kevin Love, who showed stellar play last season, averaging a double-double (I think he was averaging 17 PPG and 15 RPG) and currently holds the longest streak of double-doubles in the NBA, got himself an amazing little Spaniard. Ricky Rubio's young, flashy, and absolutely brilliant in what I've seen of him. Even showboating like he's playing on the black top, Rubio's play looks fluid, effortless, and most importantly, EFFECTIVE. While my last NBA post mentioned wanting to see Kevin Love come home to Portland (I still wanna see that, by the way!) he's a great fit for the Timberwolves. Face of the franchise in the post-KG era. I wish him nothing but the best, and if Rubio keeps up the amazing level of play he showed in the preseason and in Spain, they'll have an amazing season.
This also gives me an idea for tomorrow's blog! Stay tuned.
Societal Rejects: Why I want to hit them like they're grown men.. and can't. :(
Preface: Pardon my language.. or don't. I really don't give a shit right now, and I'm not gonna censor myself. If you can't handle that, this is a great time to stop reading.
The cause of this whole frustrated post is a very simple action: The Sack Tap.
Typically reserved for good friends when you're feeling exceptionally spiteful, or malicious lovers that wanna see you squirm (You know who you are. ;)). It can be performed forehand or backhand and either way, it really kinda sucks. Who likes getting hit in the balls with anything other than female parts mid-coitus?
When you should NOT sack tap someone: When they're already a mutual dislike and alcohol involved.
Seriously, what the FUCK kind of childish idiot, knowing (or not.. who knows?) that the only logical reaction to getting smacked in the nuts is for the recipient to try to cave your stupid-looking face in, thinks that this is a good idea?! If you two already don't like each other, start with a KICK to the nuts. Boom. Game over. Am I right fellas? But to just tap a guy in the nuts hard enough to be a mild annoyance, you're gonna get mashed on. Hard. Like you have a pair yourself, which you obviously fucking DON'T or you would have just socked the other guy in the mouth.
This is supposed to be the happiest time of year. People enjoy the company of their families (Assuming they have some), give and receive gifts, and feast like Gods! Instead, as Christmas draws closer, people seem to want to fight that much more. I'm sorry, but that tells me that your life just plains SUCKS in your opinion. Wanna borrow mine? I thrive on stress that would cause most people ulcers or drive them to drugs. I deal with so much emotional pain from deaths and other losses that a lot of other people would have already figured out exactly what the barrel of their favorite pistol tastes like a hundred times over.. and repainted their ceiling by suck-starting the damn thing. I still wake up at least twice a week and grab the phone to call my mom.. and she's IN A FUCKING URN. Everybody wave to the pretty ocean scene on top of my entertainment center. So forgive me if I have so little compassion left for your petty bullshit that all I wanna do is hit you people like you're grown men. I just wish people would act like they really are grown folks.
So ask yourself, why is it that I haven't ground your faces into the parking lot until they're just pulp on the concrete? The answer is simple.
I have bills to pay, and I can't do that from a prison cell.
The cause of this whole frustrated post is a very simple action: The Sack Tap.
Typically reserved for good friends when you're feeling exceptionally spiteful, or malicious lovers that wanna see you squirm (You know who you are. ;)). It can be performed forehand or backhand and either way, it really kinda sucks. Who likes getting hit in the balls with anything other than female parts mid-coitus?
When you should NOT sack tap someone: When they're already a mutual dislike and alcohol involved.
Seriously, what the FUCK kind of childish idiot, knowing (or not.. who knows?) that the only logical reaction to getting smacked in the nuts is for the recipient to try to cave your stupid-looking face in, thinks that this is a good idea?! If you two already don't like each other, start with a KICK to the nuts. Boom. Game over. Am I right fellas? But to just tap a guy in the nuts hard enough to be a mild annoyance, you're gonna get mashed on. Hard. Like you have a pair yourself, which you obviously fucking DON'T or you would have just socked the other guy in the mouth.
This is supposed to be the happiest time of year. People enjoy the company of their families (Assuming they have some), give and receive gifts, and feast like Gods! Instead, as Christmas draws closer, people seem to want to fight that much more. I'm sorry, but that tells me that your life just plains SUCKS in your opinion. Wanna borrow mine? I thrive on stress that would cause most people ulcers or drive them to drugs. I deal with so much emotional pain from deaths and other losses that a lot of other people would have already figured out exactly what the barrel of their favorite pistol tastes like a hundred times over.. and repainted their ceiling by suck-starting the damn thing. I still wake up at least twice a week and grab the phone to call my mom.. and she's IN A FUCKING URN. Everybody wave to the pretty ocean scene on top of my entertainment center. So forgive me if I have so little compassion left for your petty bullshit that all I wanna do is hit you people like you're grown men. I just wish people would act like they really are grown folks.
So ask yourself, why is it that I haven't ground your faces into the parking lot until they're just pulp on the concrete? The answer is simple.
I have bills to pay, and I can't do that from a prison cell.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Very not productive!!
Ended up taking yesterday off from writing too. Had to run some errands, pay some bills, and then Cy came over. I definitely needed some father-son time more than I needed to write! We hung out, talked, played some video games, watched a couple movies. Doing it all over again today! Maybe when he goes home I'll dig in and get something written. Maybe I'll say screw it, it's Yule. Guess I'll figure that out later.
Either way, Blessed Yule (Or whatever it is YOU celebrate), and thanks for reading!
Either way, Blessed Yule (Or whatever it is YOU celebrate), and thanks for reading!
Sunday, December 18, 2011
So.. I feel like an asshole.
After a lengthy period of uncertainty, I finally committed to attend my niece's 16th birthday party. For some societal reason I've never researched, the 16th birthday is incredibly important to young women. I plotted, planned, tried to budget so that I could get to work from the party.. and failed. I barely had enough to get to work from home that night and get some much needed food before starting my shift.
I feel like such a dick. I raised the hopes of many, including myself. All of these people, myself included, were let down. I'm in the rare possession of a vocabulary that rivals that of a thesaurus, and I lack the proper words to express how sorry I am that I couldn't make it.
I find it strangely fitting that as I type this, "Walk With Me In Hell" by Lamb of God is kicking the ever-loving crap out of my eardrums.
Also, I truly believe everything happens for a reason. I haven't had the smallest bit of luck figuring this reason out, but when I do it's likely to be some sort of cosmic kick to the nuts.
I feel like such a dick. I raised the hopes of many, including myself. All of these people, myself included, were let down. I'm in the rare possession of a vocabulary that rivals that of a thesaurus, and I lack the proper words to express how sorry I am that I couldn't make it.
I find it strangely fitting that as I type this, "Walk With Me In Hell" by Lamb of God is kicking the ever-loving crap out of my eardrums.
Also, I truly believe everything happens for a reason. I haven't had the smallest bit of luck figuring this reason out, but when I do it's likely to be some sort of cosmic kick to the nuts.
Friday, December 16, 2011
Chapter One: It's rare an artist displays his masterpiece before it's done. I'm a rare beast. lol
From the upcoming novel "Of Claws and Blood" by Pete Tobias.
Chapter One
From Tragedy Comes A Terrible Heroism
The sun shone down brilliantly through the removed top of the Jeep as Anthony traversed the winding mountain roads. His focus wasn't entirely on the road, but enough to keep the leisurely paced vehicle in it's place. The distraction was only partial, as he wasn't entirely invested in the half hearted singing of "Bulletproof" as Five Finger Death Punch roared through the speakers. Anthony's melodic tenor seemed to accompany Ivan Moody's gruff tones almost perfectly, but he was more the type that just sung along on drives and in the shower. Anthony Peterson wasn't searching for fame and fortune, or even expression through artistry. He was a hard working blue-collar type. More at home with an ax in his hand than the spotlight shining brilliantly on his rugged, weathered face. Anthony had been the foreman on a local logging crew for a couple years now, having busted his ass from his time as a greenhorn up to heading his own crew. This was a fact he was most proud of, but he was also conflicted. The idea of destroying the forest had never set well with him, and while it took considerable doing he convinced the owner to expand his business to planting new trees during the off-season. This not only helped the environment, but guaranteed work for generations. The mountains had always resonated strongly with him, so even when he wasn't working he was there. Camping out to partake of all kinds of outdoor sports was a regular thing, and stretched back to his youth. As he stubbed out the remnants of a Marlboro Smooth in his ash tray - something he frequently caught a ribbing for since "only black guys smoke menthols" - he pulled the jeep over and came to a stop.
"What the hell was that?"
A flash of mottled brown the size of a truck had sprinted across the road in a blur of speed twenty yards ahead. Fingers nervously wrapped around the grip of the .357 permanently tucked in the glove box. It had saved his bacon more than once, and only one time with anything more drastic than a warning shot. There was still meat in his freezer from that day, but he found it difficult to eat. Killing wasn't in Anthony's nature. He could do it only out of self preservation. He wasn't a vegetarian, but if he had to do the slaughtering that was an animal likely to be set free. The jeep was stationary for what felt like an eternity. Two of the longest minutes in his life, or probably anyone's for that matter. Finally, his grip was released on the weapon and the jeep crawled into motion. Wide-open hazel eyes scanned the forest on both sides of the vehicle as he drove past the spot where the massive creature - was it a creature? - had entered the treeline. This lack of focus proved costly. Anthony hadn't even noticed the rapidly approaching truck behind him, it's driver's eyes closed as bliss overcame him, euphoria destroying any hope of a reaction as a wave of pleasure wracked his body and he filled the mouth of a lot lizard from the local truck stop with his seed. She was a new one, and very ski--
"OH SHIT!"
Just as the man yelled, the initial impact took place. A loud, dull thud followed by the screech of torn metal as the engine compartment collapsed. Bolts sheared as momentum pushed the old truck forward into the back of the jeep, shoving the engine through the firewall to splinter every bone in his legs. The man's lower body was reduced to pulp in a matter of just half a second. The woman's skull erupted in a spray of blood and gray matter as hot steel destroyed flesh and bone as the engine continued through on its path of destruction. The man simply stared in helpless awe at the carnage that he'd become. That his lust had created. His expression never changed as he rapidly bled out through a tangle of shredded flesh and displaced organs.
Anthony's attention was brought back to the here and now by another man's voice just in time for his jeep to be catapulted forward like the graceful bound of a large cat. None of the wheels remained on the ground as the jeep flew forth, the right front fender smashing into a tree to create a ricochet. Anthony's body gave up against the immense strain, going limp as he fell unconscious. The jeep bounced off the tree into a spin, and rolled as it landed, finally coming to rest on it's roll cage about ten feet off the road on the opposite side. His unconscious mind was aware that he was moving, just not how, or where to.
Slowly, eyelids raised to reveal a scene he'd never expected. He was sheltered beneath the roots of a fallen free with a small fire burning just far enough away that he wouldn't accidentally roll into it. The warm wet feeling in both shins slowly made itself known as mental acuity slowly returned, bringing about the urge to sit up. The effort required to sit up was too much, and a pain crashed through his nerves with the force of a hurricane. Anthony was a tough man, but in the face of this pain he screamed. He cared not for who heard, just hoped, prayed that this pain would subside. His neck had made a rather horrible crunch sound as he'd fallen from the shredded seat belt, but he didn't know that. The pain took quite a while to subside and allow him to think of anything else, and when it did, it was suddenly revealed that he was not alone. She was very quiet, weeping in the darkness just outside the light of the fire. Anthony was scared and helpless. He couldn't move, and knew both of his legs were damaged. He feared his neck was broken. The voice that came when he opened his mouth was barely a croak.
"Help me..."
The weeping was instantly a fit of sobbing, wails of remorse howled toward the waxing half moon. Accompanying the lament was footsteps, growing closer. Heavy footfalls even in the soft dirt. The woman revealed by the dim flicker of the fire was beautiful despite her large physical stature. She was nearly six feet tall, and probably close to a solid two hundred and fifty pounds. While her stature was abnormal, it was certainly impressive. Each muscle was sculpted as if she'd been carved from granite. Her nudity, the streaks of dirt her tears created, these were lost on a reeling mind. Anthony knew one thing. This woman would take care of him while he healed. The roar of pain in his right shin was already dimming to a dull throb, feeling as though his flesh had been penetrated by teeth. Lots of large teeth, meant for tearing meat.
"I'm sorry.. I had no choice. You'd die if I didn't!"
She fell to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. Her torso shaking violently with each gasp of air that fueled her endless expression of sorrow. Anthony's questions fell on deaf ears no matter how loudly he asked, answered only with further apologies. Finally, the woman brought herself under control. The sobbing ceased, replaced with mild sniffles. Rather than standing, she crawled the remaining distance bewteen them and laid beside Anthony.
"My name was Desirae. Now I'm known as Rock Dancer of the Bloodfang Tribe. You're very wounded. I've splinted and bandaged your broken leg, and your neck will be sore for days. Your right leg.. I'm very sad to have altered your life so much. Before I explain, you should drink."
The woman tugged on a thin cord, bringing about a leather pouch from behind her. The knot was untied, and a thin tube was placed to his lips. Anthony use this as a straw instinctively though if he knew he was drinking from the bladder of a fallen foe through their urethra, this may have never happened. Desirae raised the pouch to allow the fresh spring water to flow toward Anthony's mouth and he drank hungrily until he gasped, his handled gently cradled in her free hand. She smiled down upon him as the tube was taken from his mouth.
"As I promised, I'll explain what's going to happen and when. Then you'll be introduced to the Tribe. My kind is known as Stone Sentinels. We guard the mountains, protect our sacred land from poachers. We aid anyone within our lands if it fits with our ideals. I've seen you with your crew, and though you destroy, you also rebuild. Otherwise, you'd be dying in your jeep from blood loss."
She tapped very gently on the broken leg, bringing the wet feeling of spilled blood to the forefront in his mind.
"My tribe lives as bears. Honestly, we may have a use for you in the urban world. If the Elders will it, you will comply. Otherwise, you'll be killed, and my efforts will have been in vain. Please don't let this happen."
Desirae - Rock Dancer, continued with her explanation of what was to happen, and how Anthony's wounds would be healed. He fought so hard to assimilate all this knowledge, and in the end, he retained only one thing. His life would change in about a week. A week he was doomed to spend at Rock Dancer's mercy in the woods. Time passed, Anthony at Rock Dancer's mercy, though she was fiercely protective and very nurturing. She told him what to expect, and the nightmares she described to him happened nightly with increasing detail and brutality. Finally, it came. The night he was promised that everything would change.
The night of the full moon.
Chapter One
From Tragedy Comes A Terrible Heroism
The sun shone down brilliantly through the removed top of the Jeep as Anthony traversed the winding mountain roads. His focus wasn't entirely on the road, but enough to keep the leisurely paced vehicle in it's place. The distraction was only partial, as he wasn't entirely invested in the half hearted singing of "Bulletproof" as Five Finger Death Punch roared through the speakers. Anthony's melodic tenor seemed to accompany Ivan Moody's gruff tones almost perfectly, but he was more the type that just sung along on drives and in the shower. Anthony Peterson wasn't searching for fame and fortune, or even expression through artistry. He was a hard working blue-collar type. More at home with an ax in his hand than the spotlight shining brilliantly on his rugged, weathered face. Anthony had been the foreman on a local logging crew for a couple years now, having busted his ass from his time as a greenhorn up to heading his own crew. This was a fact he was most proud of, but he was also conflicted. The idea of destroying the forest had never set well with him, and while it took considerable doing he convinced the owner to expand his business to planting new trees during the off-season. This not only helped the environment, but guaranteed work for generations. The mountains had always resonated strongly with him, so even when he wasn't working he was there. Camping out to partake of all kinds of outdoor sports was a regular thing, and stretched back to his youth. As he stubbed out the remnants of a Marlboro Smooth in his ash tray - something he frequently caught a ribbing for since "only black guys smoke menthols" - he pulled the jeep over and came to a stop.
"What the hell was that?"
A flash of mottled brown the size of a truck had sprinted across the road in a blur of speed twenty yards ahead. Fingers nervously wrapped around the grip of the .357 permanently tucked in the glove box. It had saved his bacon more than once, and only one time with anything more drastic than a warning shot. There was still meat in his freezer from that day, but he found it difficult to eat. Killing wasn't in Anthony's nature. He could do it only out of self preservation. He wasn't a vegetarian, but if he had to do the slaughtering that was an animal likely to be set free. The jeep was stationary for what felt like an eternity. Two of the longest minutes in his life, or probably anyone's for that matter. Finally, his grip was released on the weapon and the jeep crawled into motion. Wide-open hazel eyes scanned the forest on both sides of the vehicle as he drove past the spot where the massive creature - was it a creature? - had entered the treeline. This lack of focus proved costly. Anthony hadn't even noticed the rapidly approaching truck behind him, it's driver's eyes closed as bliss overcame him, euphoria destroying any hope of a reaction as a wave of pleasure wracked his body and he filled the mouth of a lot lizard from the local truck stop with his seed. She was a new one, and very ski--
"OH SHIT!"
Just as the man yelled, the initial impact took place. A loud, dull thud followed by the screech of torn metal as the engine compartment collapsed. Bolts sheared as momentum pushed the old truck forward into the back of the jeep, shoving the engine through the firewall to splinter every bone in his legs. The man's lower body was reduced to pulp in a matter of just half a second. The woman's skull erupted in a spray of blood and gray matter as hot steel destroyed flesh and bone as the engine continued through on its path of destruction. The man simply stared in helpless awe at the carnage that he'd become. That his lust had created. His expression never changed as he rapidly bled out through a tangle of shredded flesh and displaced organs.
Anthony's attention was brought back to the here and now by another man's voice just in time for his jeep to be catapulted forward like the graceful bound of a large cat. None of the wheels remained on the ground as the jeep flew forth, the right front fender smashing into a tree to create a ricochet. Anthony's body gave up against the immense strain, going limp as he fell unconscious. The jeep bounced off the tree into a spin, and rolled as it landed, finally coming to rest on it's roll cage about ten feet off the road on the opposite side. His unconscious mind was aware that he was moving, just not how, or where to.
Slowly, eyelids raised to reveal a scene he'd never expected. He was sheltered beneath the roots of a fallen free with a small fire burning just far enough away that he wouldn't accidentally roll into it. The warm wet feeling in both shins slowly made itself known as mental acuity slowly returned, bringing about the urge to sit up. The effort required to sit up was too much, and a pain crashed through his nerves with the force of a hurricane. Anthony was a tough man, but in the face of this pain he screamed. He cared not for who heard, just hoped, prayed that this pain would subside. His neck had made a rather horrible crunch sound as he'd fallen from the shredded seat belt, but he didn't know that. The pain took quite a while to subside and allow him to think of anything else, and when it did, it was suddenly revealed that he was not alone. She was very quiet, weeping in the darkness just outside the light of the fire. Anthony was scared and helpless. He couldn't move, and knew both of his legs were damaged. He feared his neck was broken. The voice that came when he opened his mouth was barely a croak.
"Help me..."
The weeping was instantly a fit of sobbing, wails of remorse howled toward the waxing half moon. Accompanying the lament was footsteps, growing closer. Heavy footfalls even in the soft dirt. The woman revealed by the dim flicker of the fire was beautiful despite her large physical stature. She was nearly six feet tall, and probably close to a solid two hundred and fifty pounds. While her stature was abnormal, it was certainly impressive. Each muscle was sculpted as if she'd been carved from granite. Her nudity, the streaks of dirt her tears created, these were lost on a reeling mind. Anthony knew one thing. This woman would take care of him while he healed. The roar of pain in his right shin was already dimming to a dull throb, feeling as though his flesh had been penetrated by teeth. Lots of large teeth, meant for tearing meat.
"I'm sorry.. I had no choice. You'd die if I didn't!"
She fell to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. Her torso shaking violently with each gasp of air that fueled her endless expression of sorrow. Anthony's questions fell on deaf ears no matter how loudly he asked, answered only with further apologies. Finally, the woman brought herself under control. The sobbing ceased, replaced with mild sniffles. Rather than standing, she crawled the remaining distance bewteen them and laid beside Anthony.
"My name was Desirae. Now I'm known as Rock Dancer of the Bloodfang Tribe. You're very wounded. I've splinted and bandaged your broken leg, and your neck will be sore for days. Your right leg.. I'm very sad to have altered your life so much. Before I explain, you should drink."
The woman tugged on a thin cord, bringing about a leather pouch from behind her. The knot was untied, and a thin tube was placed to his lips. Anthony use this as a straw instinctively though if he knew he was drinking from the bladder of a fallen foe through their urethra, this may have never happened. Desirae raised the pouch to allow the fresh spring water to flow toward Anthony's mouth and he drank hungrily until he gasped, his handled gently cradled in her free hand. She smiled down upon him as the tube was taken from his mouth.
"As I promised, I'll explain what's going to happen and when. Then you'll be introduced to the Tribe. My kind is known as Stone Sentinels. We guard the mountains, protect our sacred land from poachers. We aid anyone within our lands if it fits with our ideals. I've seen you with your crew, and though you destroy, you also rebuild. Otherwise, you'd be dying in your jeep from blood loss."
She tapped very gently on the broken leg, bringing the wet feeling of spilled blood to the forefront in his mind.
"My tribe lives as bears. Honestly, we may have a use for you in the urban world. If the Elders will it, you will comply. Otherwise, you'll be killed, and my efforts will have been in vain. Please don't let this happen."
Desirae - Rock Dancer, continued with her explanation of what was to happen, and how Anthony's wounds would be healed. He fought so hard to assimilate all this knowledge, and in the end, he retained only one thing. His life would change in about a week. A week he was doomed to spend at Rock Dancer's mercy in the woods. Time passed, Anthony at Rock Dancer's mercy, though she was fiercely protective and very nurturing. She told him what to expect, and the nightmares she described to him happened nightly with increasing detail and brutality. Finally, it came. The night he was promised that everything would change.
The night of the full moon.
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