3 nouns Day 8: Infant, Baptism, Essay

            My name is Benjamin Simkins.  I am an university student.  I have just lost about two weeks worth of writing work in a single (rather disgusting) moment. 

            I have been studying the effects that blowing your nose and sneezing have on your body.  What most people don’t realize is that you use many, many muscles in your body when blowing your nose or sneezing.  Muscles like your pectoralis major, external oblique, internal oblique, rectus abdominus, and transverse abdominis. 

            Now this has not yet been scientifically proven, but when one is often, consistently blowing his noise or sneezing, he may in fact develop a fully defined rectus abdominus (more commonly called a six pack).  I have a good friend to whom this has happened due to his numerous allergies all year round.

            Anyways I’ve put my self off track. I was telling you how I lost most of my essay that I have worked very hard on.

            I was at my desk typing up my final copy.  I had my nephew over for a couple of hours because I was babysitting him for my sister.  The baby was crying and so I went and picked him up from his playpen.  I rocked him and he soon calmed down.  So, I sat back down at my computer with the child cradled in my arm.  Typing with one hand is much slower, but I wanted to finish this essay so I could focus on some other things.

            That was when the infant spit up everywhere.  Just like that, projectile vomit.  He baptized myself and my laptop in immense amounts of puke.  I have taken on a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘infant baptism’.  Only my version of the phrase is not pleasant at all.

            So, I am sorry Professor Miller, but my essay is going to be late.  I do hope you will allow me an extension on my paper.  I think that you will find it interesting.

3 nouns, Day 7: Turnip, Hunt, Ants

            Really, Jack?” Hans said.  “Who brings a turnip on a picnic?”

            “I do,” responded Jack.  “It tastes good on sandwiches.”

            “You keep that abomination away from my sandwiches.”

            The two continued arguing while Hans girlfriend, Charlotte, rolled her eyes.

           

            “Sir.”

            “What is it, Ant Charles?  What is your scouting report?”

            “General Ant Murphy, I scouted the closest picnic table and sighted a picnic.”

            “What was at the picnic?”

            “There looks to be a large unwanted turnip, sir.”

            “Perfect.  Gather the hunters.”

            “Sir, yes, sir.”

            “Ugh,” said Charlotte as she flicked an ant off of her leg, “we must be sitting near an anthill.”

            “We could move if you like,” said Hans.

            “No,” whined Jack, “I stubbed my toe and it still hurts and I don’t really want to carry all of this stuff somewhere else.”

            “Yeah, I’m sure that’s the real reason,” mumbled Hans.

            “And what is that supposed to mean?”

            “It means that you’re just annoyed because I wouldn’t try turnip on my sandwich.”

            “Of course I am.  Its a good waste of a turnip.”

            “You know what, its fine,” sighed Charlotte.  “Its just an anthill.”

            “Yeah,” smiled Jack triumphantly, “its just an anthill.”

           

            “We have an ant down, Captain Ant Alex.”

            “What happened, Ant Charles?”

            “The human female flicked him off of her leg.”

            “Its unfortunate, but he should have known better than to climb onto her.   The females are especially jumpy.  Alright, the longer we wait the harder this hunt is going to be.  Let’s get up on that picnic table.”

            The small army of ants cheered and jumped onto one of the table legs and began climbing.  They reached the table top and slowed down.

            “What do you see, Ant Charles?” asked Captain Ant Alex.

            “The humans are looking the other way,” answered Ant Charles.  “It looks as if the human males are arguing and the female has her head in her hands.  Now is our chance.”

            “Alright my fellow ants,” yelled Captain Ant Alex, “now is our chance.  Some of us might not make it, but it is a risk me must take to feed the colony.  Who’s with me?”

            The ants cheered and rushed forward quickly but stealthily.  The turnip sat before them. 

            “Ant Carlos,” said Captain Ant Alex.

            “Yes, sir?”

            “You take your crew and lift that turnip and get it out of here as fast as you can.”

            “Yes, sir.”

            “The rest of us will be here to cause a diversion should the need arise.  Everyone understand?”

            “Yes, sir,” all of the ants stated.

            “Good then let’s move.”

            Ant Carlos’s team scurried forward and rushed around the turnip.  Acting as one, the ants lifted the turnip up onto their backs.

            “Move, move, move,” said Captain Ant Alex.

            The ants reached the edge of the table and threw the turnip over the edge.

            “It is perfectly normal for someone to put turnip on his sandwich,” said Jack.

            “It really isn’t,” huffed Hans.

            “Whatever,” pouted Jack, “I’ll just take my turnip and go home.”

            Jack turned to look for it.

            “Where is it?” he asked. 

            He turned and glared at Hans.

            “Where did you put my turnip?”

            “I didn’t put your turnip anywhere,” said Hans.  “I wouldn’t dare touch that thing.”

            “Where did you put it!?”

            “Dude, seriously, I didn’t put it anywhere.”

            “Then where is it?”

            “I don’t know,” said Hans looking around.

            That’s when he spied the ants escaping with it.

            “Its there,” said Hans pointing in the direction of the ants.

            Jack yelped and leapt from his seat.

            “One of the human males has spotted our hunters,” said Captain Ant Alex.  “Quickly, do the diversion we spoke about.”

            The ants rushed forward and climbed onto the hand of Jack as he pushed away from the picnic table.  Jack looked down as he felt the tickle of the ants racing across his hand.  Jack completely freaked out.  He hopped and danced and whipped his hand through the air trying to fling the ants off.  Somehow some of them managed to stay on and rushed up his arm.  Jack screamed and began slapping at his arm. 

            “Sir,” said Ant Charles, “the turnip has reached the colony.”

            “Good,” replied Captain Ant Alex, “call the men back.”

            Ant Charles yelled and the ants on Jack dropped off into the grass and booked it back to the colony.

            “Well done ants,” congratulated General Ant Murphy.  “Your exploits today shall forever go down in ant history and those who died to feed this colony shall not be forgotten.  Today was a very successful hunt and the food you gathered shall indeed be useful in feeding the colony”

            “You know,” said Ant Charles to another ant as the group dispersed, “its odd.”

            “What’s odd?” asked the ant.

            “That male freaked out more than the female.”

              The two ants laughed.

3 nouns, Day 6: Tornado, Combine, Bob

            A howling wind rushed across the fields of wheat.  The sound of a large vehicle contested the noise of the gusting wind.  Bob Russel was out in his field in his combine.  Bob was a farmer and his day of work was almost done. 

            As he glanced longingly over his shoulder in the direction of his house, he noticed a cloud spinning in a funnel shape, descending rapidly towards the ground.

            “Oh no,” muttered Bob. 

            He immediately turned his combine around and gunned it towards the house.  The tornado touched down and also sped towards the house. 

            “This is not good.”

            Bob pushed down on the gas as hard as he could.  The tornado was not going fast and Bob was gaining on it quickly.  Just as Bob was getting close, the tornado sped up and was getting dangerously close to Bob’s house.

            “No!  Stop!”

            Bob had to slam on the brakes as the tornado did in fact stop.  The tornado was still spinning it just wasn’t moving. 

            Bob sat there scratching his head.  The tornado slowly began, it almost seemed like it was shuffling, towards the house again. 

            “Stop!” yelled Bob.

            The tornado stopped. 

            “I want you to get off my property.”

            The tornado wavered back and forth as if it was shaking its head somehow. 

            “Yes.”

            The tornado wavered again and began slowly moving forward.

            “No!”

            The tornado stopped.

            Bob revved up his engine and slowly skirted around the tornado.  He then again slammed down on the gas pedal and shot towards the tornado (at least as fast as a combine can shoot forward).  Bob’s hunch had been right.  The tornado rushed away in the opposite direction, fleeing from Bob.  Whichever way Bob directed his combine the tornado would try to avoid him, but for some reason it couldn’t seem to pull far away from Bob.  Bob chased it around his property until eventually the tornado rose up into the clouds and disappeared as all tornadoes eventually do.

            “That was odd,” said Bob.

            Bob tried telling his friends about the odd happening.  None of his friends believed him, so Bob made a bet with them.  The next time there was a tornado in the area, Bob would try and chase it. 

            It took a couple of years, but finally another tornado touched down in the area.  It was at Bob’s friend Phil’s farm.  Phil had been the most skeptical out of all of them. 

            Bob smiled as he drove over to Phil’s property.  This was going to be satisfying.  Not only was he going to be vindicated, but Bob would also be making a fair portion of money from his bets.

            Bob arrived at the farm and Phil came out to greet him. 

            “You don’t need to do this, Bob,” said Phil with a worried expression on his face.  “You could get yourself killed.”

            Bob grinned cockily and revved his engine.  He drove straight ahead and the tornado was heading straight for him.  Sweat beaded on Bob’s forehead as he approached the twirling mass of dirt and cloud.  It didn’t show any sign of slowing down or swerving.  They got closer and closer.  Bob’s stomach jumped into his throat.  At the last possible second the tornado turned and Bob turned to follow.  He exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

            Bob chased the tornado around for a good half-hour whooping and laughing and sending his friends weird expressions.

            “Well?” said Bob as he pulled up to Phil’s front deck where his friends had been watching the whole crazy thing.

            Eventually they all mumbled they had been wrong and payed up.

            Bob drove away with the taste of sweet victory and the feeling of sweet cash in his pocket.

3 nouns, Day 5: Bananas, Crown, Hearse

            The jester is a jester.  A royal jester.  The jester of the High King in fact. 

            The king is mean to the jester.  The king dies.  It is unfortunate.  The jester is not sad, because the king was mean to him.

            It is the day of the royal funeral.  The jester attends the funeral.  The jester decides to do a prank to make the ceremony more enjoyable.  Before the beginning of the funeral procession, the jester sneaks into the back of the hearse. The jester giggles, but no one hears him.  The jester lifts the crown off of the king’s head.  Next, he pulls a bunch of peeled bananas from his handy satchel.  He fills the crown with squished bananas.  He perches the crown precariously on the king’s head.

           

            It is now the funeral.  The king’s royal guard removes the king’s body from the hearse and carries it on the litter.  The queen cries.  It is very sad. 

            The jester is near the back of the church where the funeral is being held.  He finds a rock.  He throws the rock.  The rock knocks off the king’s crown.  Squished bananas spill everywhere.  It is messy.  It is gross.

            The jester thinks it’s funny.  The jester laughs. 

            The queen does not think it’s funny.  The queen does not laugh.

            The jester is in trouble.  The guards chase the jester.  The jester leads them on a merry chase.  Oh no!  The jester is caught.  The jester is thrown into the dungeon.  The dungeon is wet.  The jester is sad.

           

            The queen calls for the jester.  The queen is upset.

            “Why did you do that?” asks the queen.

            “I thought it would be funny,” explains the jester.

            “It wasn’t,” says the queen.  “So I am going to behead you.”

            “Please don’t,” begs the jester.

            “Why shouldn’t I?” wonders the queen.

            “I have learned my lesson,” says the jester.

            “And what is that?” asks the queen.

            “I shall never again sneak into a hearse and shove bananas into the dead king’s crown,” states the jester.

            “Very well,” says the queen.  “I pardon your crimes.”

            The jester is not happy.  The queen is mean to him.  The queen is remarrying.  The new king is mean to the jester.

           

It is the crowning ceremony for the new king.  The jester is giggling.  The priest raises the crown above the new king.  Bananas spill onto the new king’s head.

            The jester thinks it’s funny.  The jester laughs. 

The queen does not think it’s funny.  The queen does not laugh. 

The jester is in trouble.  The guards chase the jester.  The jester leads the guards on a merry chase.  Oh no!  The jester is caught.  The jester is thrown into the dungeon.  The dungeon is wet.  The jester is sad.

            The queen calls for the jester.  The queen is upset.  The newly crowned king is grumpy.

            “Why did you do that?” asks the queen.  “I thought you had learned your lesson.”

            “I did,” says the jester.  “I did not sneak into a hearse and shove bananas into the dead king’s crown.  And now I have learned a new lesson.  Do not shove bananas into the crown of the new king at his crowning ceremony.”

            “Very well,” says the queen.  “I pardon your crimes.”

            The jester is happy.

            “But,” says the queen, “my husband the king does not and so you shall be beheaded.”

            The jester is sad.

The End

The moral of the story is: Do not shove bananas into the crown of any king, dead or alive.

3 nouns, Day 4: Flamethrower, Couch, Parakeet (Part 2)

Luckily, I don’t have any friends, so moving my stuff out at such short notice was extremely difficult.  Fortunately, I managed to get my neighbor (who had to put up with Bernard and therefore wanted me out of there) to help me out.  Together we managed to move everything out and into his trailer which I was going to borrow until I could find a new place to live.  The next step was to actually find another place to live.

Apartment “shopping” did not go well at all.  I found three different apartments for three different days.  One night of wailing was all that the land lords put up with.  After that I was back to sleeping into my car. 

I’m pretty sure after the first few apartments a picture of me was sent to each and every last apartment building in the city, warning everyone to keep clear of the crazy guy with the noisy parakeet. 

Now, some people think it would be a grand adventure to sleep in some parking lot in their car.  Let me tell you it is not as fun and rosy as one might think, especially when there is a parakeet screaming in your ear the entire night.

Finally, I lost it and yelled back at Bernard.  Somehow through all the ear-piercing screeching I managed to ask Bernard what it would take to get him to calm down.  We fell silent for probably about an hour, just sitting and staring at each other.

“You can take me to the Caribbean,” Bernard eventually said.

I guffawed at the absurdity of his demand.  He wailed uncontrollably all night, complaining about my apparent rudeness.

I couldn’t take it any more.  It felt like I hadn’t slept in weeks (mostly because I hadn’t).  So, the obvious next step was to buy a flamethrower.

That night I placed the cushions from my couch across the backseat of my car.  I hoped this would remind Bernard of the days when I slept on the couch in the living room, and he would fall sound asleep.

Surprisingly, my planned worked and Bernard slept as I fake snored away.  Once I new he was in a deep sleep, I slipped out of the car.  I snatched up my flamethrower.

My next step was to tap on the window beside Bernard’s cage.  I did so and Bernard woke up.  I stood at the window as the drowsy parakeet blinked its eyes in an attempt to push away the grogginess. 

I fired up the flamethrower (pun intended).  The parakeet’s eyes almost literally popped out of their sockets.  For once Bernard had a good reason to freak out, and boy did he.

“And that is when you torched the car?”

“Yes, your honorable judge.  So, I do plead insanity.  But for the record, it wasn’t my fault.”

           

3 nouns, Day 3: Moose, Curtains, Lawyer

            You’re probably wondering how a moose got stuck in my kitchen curtains.  Well, to be honest I am wondering the same thing. 

           

Have you ever woken up and just felt that something bizarre was going to happen?  That no matter what you did, the day was going to turn out super weird?  That was the feeling I got yesterday the instant I woke up.

            I pushed my arms above my head as a yawn forced my jaw open.  Looking to my left I saw big fluffy snowflakes touchdown on the grass below.  That should have been the first warning that it was going to be a strange day, but for some reason it didn’t seem odd that it was snowing in the middle of July.  Maybe that has to do with the fact that I live in Alberta and snow can fall at literally any time of the year.

            I threw my legs over the side of my bed and pushed into an upright position.  I wandered down the stairs onto the first floor of my house and figured my next step was to make coffee.  I had just finished pouring the delightful, dark, steaming coffee into my favorite mug, when I got a sudden craving for a peanut butter and jam sandwich.  I slapped a couple of slices of bread onto a plate and removed the peanut butter from my pantry cupboard.  I next went to remove the jam from the fridge.  An especially poignant and foul smell greeted me.  I slammed the fridge door as a return greeting.  I rushed across the kitchen and opened one of the windows to let fresh air into the kitchen. 

            I welcomed in some brisk air before again opening my fridge.  After searching for a moment, I found the culprit of the wretched smell; a week-old plate of rotting fish.  I snatched the plate out of the fridge and dumped it’s contents into the garbage.  I then whisked the garbage out of the house and into the garbage can outside.

            When I got back into the house, I headed directly for my cup of coffee.  And that was when I noticed the moose sticking his head through the open kitchen window, with his tongue in my cup of coffee. 

            “Hey!” I yelled. 

            It spooked the moose and he pulled back from the window, or at least he would have had his antlers not been caught in the kitchen curtains.

            “Why did you yell?” asked the moose.

            “You were sticking your giant tongue in my coffee,” I answered.

            There was a long awkward silence.

            “Did you just talk?” I asked finally realizing I was talking to a moose.

            “Yes,” said the moose.  “All moose can talk.  Now will you help me get unstuck from these curtains.”

            “Yes, fine.”

            I walked forward and began untangling his antlers from my curtains.  It didn’t work.  His antlers were very, very stuck.

            “I can’t get them out,” I said.

            “Well, then cut the curtains off,” demanded the moose.

            “No.”

            “Why not?”

            “Because that will ruin my them.”

            After much insisting and bellowing, the moose convinced me to cut the curtains off of his antlers.  It took a few more minutes, but I finally managed to completely untangle them.

            “Can I borrow your phone?” requested the moose after he was finally free.

            “I guess.”  I passed him the phone.

            “Could you hold it to my ear.  I don’t have any hands.”

            I rolled my eyes and obliged.

            “And don’t eavesdrop on my conversation,” the moose said.

            “How am I not supposed to?  I’m standing right by you holding the phone to your ear,” I said shaking my head.

            “Just don’t.”

            I did my best to not eavesdrop, and I did quite a good job if I do say so myself.  It turns out that was really unfortunate for me because the moose had been talking to his lawyer.

            Apparently the moose decided to sue me for getting his antlers stuck in my curtains.  The moose stated that the whole ordeal had given him deep emotional trauma. 

            I know, its completely ridiculous.  The moose stuck his head through my window.  Somehow, I ended up loosing the case.  I had to pay a fine of two hundred dollars.  I don’t even know what a moose would spend money on.  Anyways the point is that he won the case and I had to pay up.  Although I’m pretty sure the judge was biased.  He was a moose too.

            So, yeah, that was my yesterday.  How was yours?

3 nouns, Day 2: Flamethrower, Couch, Parakeet (Part 1)

            Oh, how I rue the day I met Bernard.  I know, I know, Bernard sounds like the name of some nice janitor.  But believe me Bernard is not nice, a janitor, or in fact human at all.  Now, you’re probably wondering what could Bernard have done to insult me so badly that I call him inhuman.  Let me explain.  Bernard is literally not a human.  He is a parakeet.  An evil, monstrous, unethical, obnoxious, deceitful, dishonest, evil, monstrous…sorry I’m beginning to repeat myself.  I always do this when I get riled up.  Anyways I will stop there because I’m sure you now understand the utter garbage I had to put up with.  So, lets start with the day I met Bernard, the enemy of humanity.

            It was a beautiful day.  There’s no other description for it.  The sun was shining.  There were a few clouds speckled across the bright blue sky.  It wasn’t overly hot though, because of the gentle breeze.  I was in town doing a few errands, picking up groceries and such, and was just coming out from getting lunch at a lovely Chinese food place.  I stepped outside and walked straight past a pet store.  I took a few more steps and then stopped.  And then a thought popped into my head.  You see I am a bachelor and lived in an apartment by myself.  So, I thought I would maybe get a puppy or something like that to give me some company. 

            So into the pet store I went.  It was one of the biggest mistakes in my life.  I looked around the puppy section and didn’t see any that caught my eye.  I gave up and began to walk back to the entrance of the store.  And that is when Bernard introduced himself.

            “My name’s Bernard, my name’s Bernard.”

            I jumped and looked around.  There was nobody else in the vicinity. 

            “My name’s Bernard.”

            The sound was coming from above and behind me.  I turned to look and there was Bernard in all his feathery glory, rocking gently back and forth in his cage.  He was fantastic, bright blue and yellow.

            I thought for a moment and then decided I really didn’t want to own a parakeet.  I turned around and once again went to leave.

            “I’m an orphan.  Adopt me,” said Bernard somehow managing to add a sniffle into his speech.

            I stopped dead in my tracks.  Something about the way he said tugged at my heartstrings.   I felt morally obliged to buy this parakeet.  I sure wish there were such things as time machines so that I could go back and change what I have done.  Unfortunately, there aren’t so I’m stuck with my decision.  I bought the parakeet and my life was forever changed.

            The first night he wailed uncontrollably, complaining about new surroundings.  The second night he wailed uncontrollably, complaining about new surroundings.  The third night he wailed uncontrollably, complaining about new surroundings.  You get my drift.  Finally, on the fourteenth night he stopped complaining about new surroundings.  Yep, it was great.  Instead he wailed uncontrollably, complaining about a stomach ache from the "cheap" food I had bought him. 

            Talk about being ungrateful to the man that took him in and fed him.

            I started sleeping on the couch in the living room where he was because it seemed to calm him down and he would actually sleep the night through.  I thought I would just do this while the parakeet adjusted to his new home.  How long it would take I didn’t know.  A few more weeks passed and I decided to try sleeping in my bedroom again.  That was the night that I got kicked out of my apartment.

            Bernard, the little butt, shrieked the entire night even after I moved back into the living room.  He yelled and screeched about betrayal.  I had twenty-four hours to get out of the apartment building. 

3 Nouns, Day 1: Elevator, River, Maniac

            The elevator climbed slowly, too slowly.

            “I should’ve taken the stairs,” muttered Bobby.

            Bobby looked out over the city through the glass walls of the elevator.  All of it would soon be gone if he didn’t hurry.

            “Come on you useless elevator.”  Bobby smacked the glass with his open palm.

            He heard grinding gears and the elevator ceased moving.  Bobby stumbled forward at the sudden halt in movement.

            “What now.”  He punched the open doors button.  Nothing happened.  “I don’t have time for this.”

            “You’re right, Agent Drake,” a raspy voice erupted from the speaker in the corner of the elevator.  “Your city is running out of time, Agent Drake, and there is absolutely not a thing you can do but watch it’s complete and utter destruction.”

            “Jones, you maniac, don’t do this,” pleaded Bobby.  “You used to be good once.  You can be good again.  You can still stop this and save the city.”

            There was silence for a few moments.

            “You’re right, Agent Drake.  I will put a stop to this at once.”

            “What?  Really?”

            There was another silence.

            “Of course not you fool!” laughed Jones.

            “Stop this madness, Jones, please!” said Bobby desperately.

            “I shan’t, so there.” 

            “Please, Jones.”

            “Your incessant whining is getting on my nerves, so let’s just get this over with, shall we?” 

            Bobby heard Jones take a deep breath and then his voice blasted once again through the speaker.

            “BREAK THE DAM!  RELEASE THE RIVER!”

            “Really?” said Bobby, “is this really the time for a Lord of the Rings reference?”

            “Of course it is,” said Jones sounding hurt.  “It’s always a good time to make a Lord of the Rings reference.  Seriously, and you call me a maniac?  Anyways, it’s been nice talking to you again, Agent Drake, but I do have a city to destroy, so tata to you and have a lovely day.”

            Bobby stood in the elevator and watched as the dam in the distance exploded, sending tons of concrete and water crashing towards the city.  The river raced forward with unrelenting force, pounding against the city.  Buildings fell and were swept away with the roaring water.

            “Well...poop,” said Bobby.