Monday, July 27, 2020
Online Honesty [Sketchnotes]
Tuesday, June 23, 2020
Caterpillar
From the egg to cocoon, a caterpillar has a challenging life. It crawls its way out of the egg, eating the shell and whatever is edible in its surroundings. The caterpillar has legs to move with yes, but they’re so short that the most efficient way to move is to undulate its body like a worm while guided by the legs.
It will crawl and grow until it wraps itself in a new shell. If it’s really unlucky, it might not make it to rest in a cocoon, but not without trying its hardest to live. A caterpillar is not a good meal. It made sure of that by covering itself with prickly hair and spikes. A brightly colored caterpillar might even warn off predators by saying, ‘Hey, I’m dangerous. Don’t eat me!’
Then when the time draws nearer and nearer, the caterpillar experiences an innate urge. It is so ready to fly, to soar, to flutter — but it does not have wings yet.
Still, it will find the next best thing. It climbs the tallest object. It searches for the hight point, to feel the wind blowing and the threat of falling to lower ground. It will not fall, it will never fall, its grip is too strong for that, but it is the same feeling nonetheless as flying. What is flying if not the threat of falling, but averting it at the last moment.
So it climbs and climbs, up poles and trees, up flowers and branches and unwitting humans. It continues to feed on leaves and smaller bugs, but it is prepared for the next stage of its journey.
It is ready.
It continues to climb higher, but only to find a sturdy home — a temporary home. When it finds that spot, it rests, it scouts, it stakes the ground and says ‘This is where I’ll be.’
The process of spinning a cocoon is slow but vital. It needs to be strong and waterproof. It has to be right on the first try. The caterpillar will not fail.
It hangs upside down like a bat, starting from the tail and working its way to the antennae. Round and round it goes, building the cocoon one thread at a time, layers upon layers.
By the time the caterpillar finishes, it is inside a fortress of its own making, undergoing a transformation that it awaited so eagerly. It is here that the life of a caterpillar ends and the life of a Butterly begins.
Saturday, May 2, 2020
Stick a Foot In the Mouth
I found a prompt on a writing bingo to write about a character who keeps sticking their foot in their mouth. My only thought was literally or figuratively? Why not both?!
"Oi! Stop that!"
The black dog happily ignored Richard's command and continued chewing his hind foot. Par for course, no one listened to Richard.
"Excuse me?"
... Shit!
No listened to Richard except when he says something inflammatory in a meeting. And it just so happened that even though he was at home, he was in a virtual meeting ... with 10 of his co-workers and his boss ... and he had forgotten to mute himself.
"No no no. Not you! It's someone on my end. Sorry I forgot to mute myself." Cheeks flaming, Richard bit his lip to prevent himself from word-vomiting and hoped that they would take his apologies and continue as if nothing had happened.
"Right ... Okay, moving on. Sabrina, please update us on what the markets are ..."
The meeting continued and Richard took notes on topics to follow up later. He only spoke a couple of times to ask a question or add agreement.
Everything was going well until the black dog got up and walked to the door. Richard took no notice of this, but if he had he would have know that the mail truck was trundling up the street. If he knew the mail truck was trundling up the street, he would have muted himself after finishing his report on his advertisement report.
As it was, just as his boss was commenting on some improvement to make, the dog released a ferocious growl and started barking up a storm.
"Dog! Shut up!" Richard yelled to be heard over the din. The dog stopped barking temporarily to look at Richard, then turned back and resumed a low-rumbling growl.
Richard sighed in relief as that was less disruptive than the frenzied barking earlier.
His short-lived relief shattered abruptly when he realized there were no more human voices. Even in gallery view, where his boss took up 1/12th of the screen, that raised manicured eyebrow conveyed so much hidden meaning. Richard could feel a drop of sweat running down his ears and he absently wondered if he should open a window.
"... I'm so sorry. That was not meant for you to hear."
A few of his coworkers were respectfully not looking at the camera or dutifully reading papers that covered their whole face.
The boss had a severe frown, but nodded. "Noted. Do I need to repeat any of my suggestions?"
"No ma'am." Richard tried not to curl into himself and remembered to mute himself this time.
The dog ceased growling and walked to Richard's feet, looking like the innocent angel he was most definitely not.
Richard glanced at the dog and muttered out of the corner of his mouth, "Stop getting me into trouble pooch."
Out of paranoia, Richard double-checked that he was muted. He felt some tension leeched away when he saw the red crossed out microphone.
The meeting continued with no further incident on Richard's end. They were wrapping up with summarization of action items and a check-in with each participant to see how they were feeling. Richard answered "warm" without any problem and started to think that just maybe he can escape this meeting relatively intact. There were only two more participants and the boss to go.
While the first participant was going, the dog started growling at Richard. Richard checked the mute button. It was still on. The second participant went. The dog barked. Maybe he needs to go to the toilet, thought Richard, making a mental note to take out the dog once the meeting ended.
Finally, it was the boss's turn. The dog ran out of patience and leapt into Richard's lap in plain view of the camera. The dog made a point of sniffing out the keyboard for the crumbs of Richard's lunch.
"Ack! No no no! Dog off! Bad dog! No treat for you!"
His threats were useless against the dog who had never had a problem smooching food from Richard.
Richard finally moved the dog enough to see the screen and his boss's face-of-disapproval. Not only did his boss noticed the dog on the screen, but somehow the dog turned off the mute. He cringed, already mentally composing an apology email, pleading for forgiveness.
He held his breath as his boss had yet to speak.
"Amused." And then something happened that was rumored only to exist in legend. The lips of his boss quirked up before resuming a professional line. "That's it for today. You all know what to do. Stay safe and I'll see you Thursday."
The conference called ended without further ado. Richard collapsed back on his chair, absentmindedly petting the dog on his lap.
He looked at the dog who was chewing his back foot again. He tugged the foot away from the dog, "Don't try to get me fired again, okay?"
The dog just gave him the puppy eyes that pinky-promised to never chew on furniture again, but nevertheless the furniture will still get chewed.
-LL
"Oi! Stop that!"
The black dog happily ignored Richard's command and continued chewing his hind foot. Par for course, no one listened to Richard.
"Excuse me?"
... Shit!
No listened to Richard except when he says something inflammatory in a meeting. And it just so happened that even though he was at home, he was in a virtual meeting ... with 10 of his co-workers and his boss ... and he had forgotten to mute himself.
"No no no. Not you! It's someone on my end. Sorry I forgot to mute myself." Cheeks flaming, Richard bit his lip to prevent himself from word-vomiting and hoped that they would take his apologies and continue as if nothing had happened.
"Right ... Okay, moving on. Sabrina, please update us on what the markets are ..."
The meeting continued and Richard took notes on topics to follow up later. He only spoke a couple of times to ask a question or add agreement.
Everything was going well until the black dog got up and walked to the door. Richard took no notice of this, but if he had he would have know that the mail truck was trundling up the street. If he knew the mail truck was trundling up the street, he would have muted himself after finishing his report on his advertisement report.
As it was, just as his boss was commenting on some improvement to make, the dog released a ferocious growl and started barking up a storm.
"Dog! Shut up!" Richard yelled to be heard over the din. The dog stopped barking temporarily to look at Richard, then turned back and resumed a low-rumbling growl.
Richard sighed in relief as that was less disruptive than the frenzied barking earlier.
His short-lived relief shattered abruptly when he realized there were no more human voices. Even in gallery view, where his boss took up 1/12th of the screen, that raised manicured eyebrow conveyed so much hidden meaning. Richard could feel a drop of sweat running down his ears and he absently wondered if he should open a window.
"... I'm so sorry. That was not meant for you to hear."
A few of his coworkers were respectfully not looking at the camera or dutifully reading papers that covered their whole face.
The boss had a severe frown, but nodded. "Noted. Do I need to repeat any of my suggestions?"
"No ma'am." Richard tried not to curl into himself and remembered to mute himself this time.
The dog ceased growling and walked to Richard's feet, looking like the innocent angel he was most definitely not.
Richard glanced at the dog and muttered out of the corner of his mouth, "Stop getting me into trouble pooch."
Out of paranoia, Richard double-checked that he was muted. He felt some tension leeched away when he saw the red crossed out microphone.
The meeting continued with no further incident on Richard's end. They were wrapping up with summarization of action items and a check-in with each participant to see how they were feeling. Richard answered "warm" without any problem and started to think that just maybe he can escape this meeting relatively intact. There were only two more participants and the boss to go.
While the first participant was going, the dog started growling at Richard. Richard checked the mute button. It was still on. The second participant went. The dog barked. Maybe he needs to go to the toilet, thought Richard, making a mental note to take out the dog once the meeting ended.
Finally, it was the boss's turn. The dog ran out of patience and leapt into Richard's lap in plain view of the camera. The dog made a point of sniffing out the keyboard for the crumbs of Richard's lunch.
"Ack! No no no! Dog off! Bad dog! No treat for you!"
His threats were useless against the dog who had never had a problem smooching food from Richard.
Richard finally moved the dog enough to see the screen and his boss's face-of-disapproval. Not only did his boss noticed the dog on the screen, but somehow the dog turned off the mute. He cringed, already mentally composing an apology email, pleading for forgiveness.
He held his breath as his boss had yet to speak.
"Amused." And then something happened that was rumored only to exist in legend. The lips of his boss quirked up before resuming a professional line. "That's it for today. You all know what to do. Stay safe and I'll see you Thursday."
The conference called ended without further ado. Richard collapsed back on his chair, absentmindedly petting the dog on his lap.
He looked at the dog who was chewing his back foot again. He tugged the foot away from the dog, "Don't try to get me fired again, okay?"
The dog just gave him the puppy eyes that pinky-promised to never chew on furniture again, but nevertheless the furniture will still get chewed.
-LL
Tuesday, April 28, 2020
Saturday, April 18, 2020
The Solution is Cookies!
Prompt from Writer's Digest like 3 or 4 years ago. Unfortunately I forgot exactly who and when it was written because I dug this story while cleaning out my computer. I often used Writer's Digest prompts to speed write something in 30 minutes, so I tried to keep what I wrote while cleaning up grammar and thoughts.
Prompt: To get the story straight, Dave, we think, has become a chicken. Just the worst of luck with that guy. Tom is claiming he married the futon that’s now covered in yogurt, Carl is on the chandelier with the dog and you just walked in after getting groceries. What the heck happened here?
This was to be the party of the century.
Introduce Lucia, party, grocery run, etc.
I opened the door with the huge bags of groceries, and a fantastic sight hit my eyes. My house was in complete disarray. A chicken ran around in circles underneath a swaying chandelier. Carl somehow was perched on the chandelier with the dog under his arms, screaming “Bloody hell!” and stuff like that. Only slightly less bizarre than the chicken and Carl, Tom sobbed at the futon, which was covered in blueberry yogurt. Dave was no where to be seen.
“What the heck happened here?” In my surprise, I dropped the bag with the eggs. The carton cracked open, spilling and breaking eggs aplenty. The chicken, pardon, rooster, was not pleased with this and ran into the kitchen.
“Don’t eat Dave!” Carl yelled at me.
I opened and closed my mouth, before gathering enough sense to ask, “What? And why is there a chicken in here?”
“Dave is the chicken. Don’t eat him!”
“Tom! Can you explain anything to me?”
Tom kept sobbing, moaning, “Oh! My beautiful Ikea. What a wretched state you are in now!” Then he proceeded to do the weirdest thing that I have ever seen the Vulcan man do - he proceeded to kiss the futon and whisper all shorts of amorous poems.
I pointed out that he was kissing a futon, he snapped, “She’s more than a futon. She’s a queen.”
Exasperated, I picked up the groceries and proceeded into the kitchen. “Dave, where are you? I need some help and a sanity check for Tom and Carl!” The rooster came in again, bawking and flapping his wings as if attempting to communicate something. I briefly considered that maybe Dave was the rooster, but quickly pushed it out of thought as there was no possible way that a human could become a rooster.
I went back to the living room, determined to get to the bottom of this, or at least get Carl and the dog back down on Earth. “Carl, will you please get down?”
“I can’t!”
“Why?”
“Then the dog will melt into the floor.”
“The dog will not melt into the floor. Give him to me. You’re going to drop him sooner or later.”
“No! You don’t believe me.”
“Have you listened to yourself lately? Are you high?”
“No, I don’t think I am.”
I stared at him in complete bafflement. Just then, the doorbell rang.
Praying that my evening would not get any crazier, I opened the door to my next door neighbor, Lucia. Behind me, Tom loudly lamented the futon’s fate, Carl nervously looked down, the dog started to howl, and the chicken stood in plain view of Lucia. My face immediately grew red.
“Oh dear, I fear I came at a bad time.”
“Oh no. Not at all.” I closed the door behind me, so Lucia and I were alone, outside, under the full moon.
“I brought some cookies over and I have some bad news.”
Frantically, I tried to think of what possible bad news she could give me.
“Please don’t think I am crazy, but I am a witch and I may have accidentally casted an astray spell on your house. The spell was originally supposed to turn everyone into his or her best selves, but instead it turns everyone into the first insult that they say.”
My mind exploded. “So, if someone says “You’re a chicken,” or “Lava games are for children,” or “Your wife is so fat, she could be a futon,” then the respective things would happen to them?”
She looked confused, though I admit - my friends have a competition for coming up with the weirdest insults. "Yes. But the cookies should solve all of that!”
560 words in 30 minutes
Cookies are always a good answer.
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