Thursday, April 30, 2009

Rethinking Pretty Much Everything

I think I need to start writing my life as more of an exciting adventure and that way I'll be even more fascinating than I already am, and I know what you're thinking. "Kurt," you think "How would YOU ever be more fascinating? They would have to invent a new number, and it would be called 'Pew!Pew!Pew!' so that whenever someone says 'How fascinating is Kurt?' the correct answer would be 'Pew! Pew! Pew!' like lasers from the Star War." and then I would be all "Well you're right, but I am far too humble and attractive to allow them to make a new number just for me." and then you would just sort of tilt your head and stare at me in awed reverence until it became awkward and I would yell "Say it don't spray it!" and throw sand in your eyes like dirty street fighters do, and you would be super-confused, and then I'd be all "Sorry. I meant 'Take a picture it would last longer!'" and then I would throw down some flash powder and disappear in a cloud of smoke but you couldn't see it because of all the sand. There's like nothing I can't fix with flash powder.

So here goes my adventure:

The room is dark and cool. The thin light traipsing through the blinds is casting useless shadows against the wall. I'm laying as still as I can, praying they don't hear. My heart is hammering in my chest and sweat is standing out on my forehead. Terror and panic, wrestle with each other trying to topple the wall of stillness I'm working so hard to maintain, trying to force me to run. But I will myself to remain still. A pair of soulless footsteps drum a thin timpani down the hallway just outside the door. I hold my breath for fear of the tattle-tale sound it will make. The steps drift off down the hall and I exhale. The sun continues to rise and now the light is less feeble and I can see my surroundings more clearly. The room looks disorganized and like perhaps a group of homeless people have been squatting in it. Still I don't move as phantom noises drift under the door. I'm looking for a way out before the footsteps come back and I have to make a decision. I swallow hard, scared now but ready for what comes next. Suddenly an alarm sounds and then the foot falls grow until they are right outside the door. The pounding begins and I can see the thin hollow door flexing where the latch is. They'll be in within a minute. And they call out to me...taunting. "Dad! Are you going to get up or what? Seriously. I'm going to miss the bus if I have to make my own lunch! Get up!"

I was going to throw some flash powder at this point in the story but when I tried to do it in practice, I accidentally set part of my mattress on fire. They should put warnings on flash powder if you ask me. Like "Warning! Does not really make you disappear so don't try robbing a bank and then using this to escape because unless have a real escape laid out you are going to get caught and maybe that stupid DA is still mad about the time you broke into his car and took a dump on the passenger seat, but how were you supposed to know it was HIS car? so now he's totally going to prosecute you to the full extent of the law"


Michelle said...


Michelle said...

I am tilting my head and staring at you in awed reverence right now!!!

Please, I beg you do not throw sand in my eyes. My eyes are my life!

You need to find a better way. Perhaps the flash powder would work better?

I have no idea what I am talking about!!!

Good day chap!!

Kristine said...

Your adventure writing is something else, Kurt.

This line is leaving that tinnitis-kind of ringing in my ears: "But I will myself to remain still. A pair of soulless footsteps drum a thin timpani down the hallway just outside the door. I hold my breath for fear of the tattle-tale sound it will make."

I thought only war heroes got tinnitus. Maybe this means you're a really good writer.

The Panic Room said...

I stopped reading this and went and made pop corn and came back to finish. Summer Block Busters are here!

Miss Yvonne said...

I love this adventure, except it needs more lamps and falling down.

Anna Russell said...

Throw the flash powder at the kids!

Can your new number be "HAIIIIIIIIYA!"?

Peggy said...

Nothing to say except that was pretty awesome. You're an exceptional (in a great way) writer.

Nikki said...

I was wondering at one point if the low light would turn out to be trolls hiding in the dark, but I was wrong.

You really should make your childrens lunches before bed. Then you can be all like "It's in the fridge. Get away from my door!"

Mona Lott said...

You're so totally Pew! Pew! Pew!

Vic said...

What's your secret for getting them to be out of bed on their own? Pop tarts? Mine lie there like blocks of cement until I break out the airhorn.

This had mystery, and suspense, and stealth-pooping. What more do you need in your fine literature??

Kurt said...

@Michelle: I always start counting from the bottom.

@Michelle again: You comments are always so fun!!

@Kristine: Glad you liked. I think I've looked up all that timpani stuff before but I don't remember what any of it means. My brain is like magic that way.

@The Panic Room: I should have had more explosions. And killer robots. And bad acting.

@Miss Yvonne: Lamps and falling down are the best part of every story, I agree.

@Anna: Miss Piggy owns the rights to "HAIIIIIIIIYA!" and I hate that cock-teasing bitch.

@Peggy: Thank you (in a thankful way).

@Nikki: Jesus. I hope light can never turn into trolls. That's some scary shit.

@Mona: You being nice to me two posts in a row makes my skin itch. :)

@Vic: I've got one morning person and one bag of cement. I should tie one to the other, throw them in the canal, and just go back to bed maybe.

TishTash said...

Bonus points for the use of "timpani" in a post.

Also, your children are up before you? What kind of monsters are you raising?

Lori said...

What about enlisting the boy to make you a super doppelganger,flash powder switch it while you escape from the bank, and the security guards who tackled it look like total douches, and you are all "see ya, douchebags" and POOF. You're off. Now you have had something family fun on a Friday afternoon, the girl can drive the car, and then you could all go for pancakes, a family of super ninja magic, artists and super models.
The End.

Steam Me Up, Kid said...


Would your "flash powder" come in a yellow plastic container and have the words "Gold Bond" printed across the front?

Steam Me Up, Kid said...

Oh, motherfucker, I wasn't even thirteenth, she got in before me.


Lori said...


Captain Dumbass said...

It's been awhile since my last tattoo, I think I'm going to get WWKD done on the inside of my wrist. Next time I find myself naked on top of a car surrounded by angry police dogs I can look at it and wonder, what would Kurt do?

Mona Lott said...

I'm always nice to you! Punk!

Mona Lott said...

@ Captain: It would most likely involve his open robe, flash powder and an ugly genital burn.

@Kurt: Feel better? :D

Char said...

hmmmmm, flashpowder. that stuff burns.

I'm Nate's Mom said...

You need to work on your suspense-writing. I totally knew what those "phantom noises" were. Maybe it's just b/c our kids are the same ages. I'm your female doppelganger.

FrankandMary said...

Gothic, theatrical. Very Edgar Allan Poe. ~Mary

ps but then he died in poverty. sorry.

Soda and Candy said...

Your mom flashes powder.


Maelstrom said...

Kurt, you hobo, for robbing banks you need Ninja Flash Powder, not that generic shit you got on sale.