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.

Day 31: The Last Day

            Tis the last day of my August challenge.  And that is exactly what it has been.  A challenge.  But it is finally over.  Oh, happy day!

            There have been days when I’ve had writer’s block (that is a very real thing, by the way).  Days when I have forgotten until the last minute.  Days when I have just not wanted to write at all.  But I’ve succeeded and not missed a single day.  Yay! 

            This has been a huge lesson in perseverance and brought about the good habit of writing most days.  I must say though, I’m going to think twice before committing to something about this again.

            I still plan on posting semi-regularly, not every day though and I will probably take a break from posting for a while.  I hope to keep the habit of writing most every day going.

            I’m planning on still using some, if not all, of the ideas you guys have given me.  There are so many fantastic ones I didn’t get around to jotting down. 

            I want to thank you guys for your support and for keeping on reading my blog (even if some of the writing wasn’t extremely enjoyable).

            I thoroughly hope that all of you have enjoyed my writing and will continue to as I progress.

The End

Day 30: The Lights Are Always On--Part Three

           Early yesterday morning, my grandfather and I snuck out of the house we had been hiding in and over to my grandfather’s house.  Once inside, my grandfather instantly headed to his gun cabinet.  He pulled out two double-barreled shotguns and handed one of them to me.  He reached onto the top shelf of the cabinet and found the shotgun shells.  We loaded our weapons and then we left through the back door.

            My grandfather then led the way out of town.  We followed a worn path for a few hundred meters and arrived at our destination.  The town’s goldmine.
            “Are you sure this plan will work, Grandpa?” I asked.

            “Yep,” he answered.  “The Thatcher folk are just as superstitious as the rest of the town.”

            “You’re sure a bit of yelling is going to scare them off?”

            “Absolutely.”

            We stepped inside the mine and headed down the tunnel a-little-ways.  Next, we sat and waited for the Thatchers, the people pretending to haunt the house, to show up.  About half-an-hour later, they did just that.

            We heard them coming for a while.  They were making a lot of noise.  Laughing and joking.  They were obviously still a little drunk from the night before.  This was a good sign.  It would make our plan succeed easier.

            The noise stopped as the Thatchers reached the mouth of the mine.  Then, who I assumed to be the head of the Thatcher household, began to speak.

            “For fifteen years we haunted that house,” he said.  “And now it has finally paid off.  Literally.”

            The family laughed.
            “With all the gold, we collect from this here mine, we will be…I don’t even know how rich.  But I do know it will be a lot of money for everyone.  Let’s go get the gold!”

Day 29: The Lights Are Always On--Part Two

More than ever strange sounds are coming from the haunted house.  I have tried convincing my grandfather to leave, but to no avail.  He is very confident.  About what I do not know.  Whatever it is I hope he is right because things are getting worse and worse every day.

            Today the sounds stopped--nothing has happened in a while.  The town has been completely silent.  It is almost more eerie than before having heard all of the sounds from the haunted house. 

            My grandfather has been smiling nonstop and I don’t know why.  I have tried asking him, but he won’t explain.  He just tells me to keep silent and watch the house.

            Finally, something happened today.  I was watching the haunted house, when the door began opening.  I held my breath and my grandpa leaned forward in his chair by the window. 

            The door swung open fully and to my surprise an ordinary human being stepped outside.  It wasn’t a spirit or a ghost.  Just a regular man.

            The man laughed as he walked down the front porch steps.

            “I knew it,” muttered my grandfather.

            “Knew what?” I asked. 

            He didn’t answer but sat at the window watching the man.  After a few more minutes, more people began exiting the house.  In all there were thirteen of them.

            “Selfish dirt-bags,” my grandfather said.

            I don’t know what he meant, but I’m sure I’ll soon find out.

            Yesterday is the day it went down.  The night before yesterday the supposedly haunted house was again filled with laughing and music.  This time it didn’t scare me because I knew it was real people.  That same night my grandfather explained to me what was happening.  And on that same night we hatched a plan to put a stop to these people’s plans.

Day 28: The Lights Are Always On--Part One

           The lights are always on in that house, no matter the time of day.  No one knows why the lights are always on in that house, but they are and no one dares to find out why.

The history of that house is shrouded in mystery.  It is said that a scientist used to live there conducting experiments on human beings.  It is also said that the spirits of those experimented upon haunt that house.  But no one really knows.   

Some have claimed to hear laughter echo across the street, coming from that house.  Everyone believes them.  Still no one dares to find out who or what it is coming from. 

People have started leaving the town.  Very few are left. 

Things have escalated drastically in the past few weeks.  It started with some music and lots more laughter.  Soon it turned into screaming and shrieking.  Just today, the front door opened and then slammed shut for no apparent reason. 

Most think that a ghost or spirit left the house and is now roaming the town, seeking to do someone harm. 

That was the last straw and now most people have left.  There are only thirty people left in the town, I being one of them, and we are all staying in the same house.  They say there is safety in numbers.  I guess we shall soon discover if this is true.

Everyone else left today.  I would have too, but my grandfather was staying behind and I couldn’t leave him. 

I think he has some sort of idea as to what is haunting that house.  

"If you are staying," my grandfather said, "then you are staying across from the haunted house with me.  And we must make it seem as if the town is completely deserted."

I couldn’t leave my grandfather, but I am truly terrified of what might befall us.

Day 27: Some Friendships Never Fade

            There are very few people in your life that you can say you think will be a friend for a lifetime.  If you find someone or more than someone like this, you are blessed with something truly amazing.  Most people have those people that they would give up anything for, do anything for.  I know a few of those people and I am so grateful to know them.  I am at that stage of life where my friends are beginning to get married or move away.

            Today I said goodbye to one of those people who is moving away to go to university.  But I am confident that when I see her again we will be able to pick up where we left off.

            I have friend who moved away for the summer for work.  Once he gets back we’ll pick up where we left off.

            A couple of my family members are off on vacation for a-month-and-a-half.  They’ll get back and we’ll pick up where we left off.

            I have a family member living eight hours away.  When I see her, we’ll pick up where we left off.

            I have friends and family members that I am so blessed to have.  I know that if I am as important to them as they are to me, we will be able to pick up where we left off the last time we saw each other. 

            I’m sad to say I probably take those I love for granted.  The more you have of something the less you notice its there.  The less you have of something the more you realize just how important it is to you.

            I think this is true with people too.

            So, this is for you, my favorite people.  You know who you are.  At least I hope you do.  If you don’t, I have failed in some way to show you just how important you are to me.

            You guys enrich my life and make it so much better than it could ever be without you.

Day 26: The Forest

            The towering trees glared down on us as we approached the edge of the forest.  They seemed to tell the dark tales of their ancient lives with their twisted branches and crooked trunks—tales of evil in the midst of them in ages past.  As we entered the forest we felt a deep foreboding as all light was blocked by the tangled branches above.  We pushed to masses of fallen leaves, sometimes as high as our chests.  Large branches often fell dead to the ground, crushing the lifeless leaves.  The air was closed and foul smelling, as if death itself had walked there.  The forest was like a tomb, never hearing the sound of life.  All were grateful to exit that evil place.

Day 25: Infant Thievery--Part Two

                At twenty I moved out of my parents’ house, to a completely different city.  I told them I had a job as a pizza deliver guy.  I didn’t though, I was really stealing again.

                I tried getting back into the game too fast.  For the past fifteen years I had only been able to pickpocket and accomplish petty theft behind my parents’ backs.  This took a toll on my thieving ability.  Immediately after moving out, I tried to rob a high-end bank.  I barely made it out without being caught.  A couple more minutes inside the vault and I definitely would have.

                After that close call, I decided to slowly ease back into the thieving game.  It took me a while to get back to the same skill level I was when I was a toddler, because one: toddlers learn extremely quickly, and two: I hadn’t done anything big in fifteen years.  So yeah, it took a while to get back to where I used to be. 

                After a year though, I was cracking some pretty big banks.  I was a millionaire after fourteen months.  After two years, I had reached the one-billion-dollar mark.  I was getting bored.  Everything was just too easy. 

                Thankfully, my parents decided to help out with my boredom.  They learned I didn’t actually have a job and they heard about this international thief stealing from the best banks in the world.  And guess what they did.  They reported me to the police, who in return reported me to the FBI, who in turn reported me to every agency in the entire world.

                I am quite proud to say that it took two whole months to catch me.  But eventually they did, and I am glad of that because it brought on my greatest challenge yet.  Escaping prison.

               This was very different from breaking into banks.  One of the greatest differences being, I relied on sneaking into banks when no one was around.  In prison, you are constantly surrounded by inmates and prison guards, making it extremely difficult to move around unseen.  But I resolved to break out of prison and to do it as quickly as possible.

Day 24: The Unhappy Hitman

            I’m tired of trying to succeed at something I’m clearly awful at.  Unfortunately, I have no choice in the matter.  I’m stuck in an environment I despise along with the ridiculous amount of whining, whimpering people.

            Of course, the people are only whining and whimpering because I’m killing them, but I still don’t like it.  The problem is being good at this line of work.  I don’t like causing people more pain than I must, but finding the right place to stick the needle can be really tough.  Prodding and poking away takes time and causes more struggling.  This is often very messy work.  I have lost three of my favorite outfits in the last three months due to excessive bleeding.

            I have made a rule of not wearing white on the jobsite.  I get specially made clothing dyed with the exact color of blood. That way it all just blends in with my clothes.

            Unfortunately, the color doesn’t help with the smell.  I have to wear obscene amounts of cologne to keep the smell off of me.

            Lately I’ve been debating getting out of the killing business, but one can’t just stop being a hitman.  I need to get a new identity and move somewhere that my killing compatriots won’t find me.  So, you can see my dilemma.  I can’t really trust the people giving me a new identity to not let all of my clients know about it. 

            Money goes far in this line of work and unfortunately for me, those that hire me have more money.  I am not paid enough to escape this life.  If I was, I would be out of it instantaneously.  No regrets. Except that of all the people killed under my messy hand which holds the needle.  So, in other words I pretty much regret my entire existence. 

Day 23: The Poetry in Sounds

            Tonight, I had the joy of listening to two of my favorite sounds.  Both distinct sounds I can recognize in an instant.

 The sound of bacon sizzling on the stovetop, bubbling and popping as it shrinks to half of its original size.

            The sound of pouring rain tapping on the roof, the drops bouncing and chasing each other down the blanket of shingles.

            These two sounds slowly faded away, each ushering two new things I love.  One involves taste and smell, the other sight and smell.

            Eating the freshly fried slices of bacon, the smell adding to the anticipation of the meat entering my mouth.

            The clouds clearing after the rain and the sun smiling down, reflecting off the wet pavement, as the air is permeated by the delightful smell of soaked dirt.

            It’s been a pleasant evening enjoying just a couple of the things God has made to make this life so incredibly amazing.