A Geek Tragedy
Saturday, April 24, 2004
I cautiously drew my gun. Derek was around here somewhere. I pressed my back tight against the wall with the gun close to my face, I slowly peaked around the corner. Bam! A bullet hit the wall six inches from my mouth. I pulled back, ducked behind a forklift and aimed for a barrel of highly corrosive chemicals. Derek ran around the corner and I let my .45 fly. The bullet pierced the thin metal of the barrel causing an explosion that knocked the forklift over, almost crushing myself. I pulled myself up, still pointing my gun at Derek. The smoke cleared and Derek was still standing. I pumped the last five bullets in my chamber into his chest. He didn't flinch. "Dang!" I yelled. "He's got Skintanium Armor." Derek reached into his holster and pulled out a Jolt Plasma Rifle. I put my foot on the overturned forklift and pushed myself into a backflip, narrowly avoiding the plasma charge, as I grabbed my fusion pistol and fired back before ever hitting the ground. The Fusion charge shattered his armor leaving his body vulnerable to the extreme heat of the burning hallway. Flesh separated from bone as Derek slowly was burned to a crisp. "I win." I said. "Dang it!" Derek said as he threw down the controller. "You wanna play another?" He asked. "No," I said. "It's pretty late. I'll see you later." I grabbed my book-bag and my jacket and walked out of Derek's house. "I'll get you next time!" Derek yelled as I was walking home. So I shot him.
Dear Mr. Flywood,
My name is Chris Rydin and I was asked by the 43rd District Court to address a letter to everybody on my block to apologize for the "Disturbance" (For the lack of a better word) on March 27th of this year. I was informed (By friends and police reports) that, at 11:48 p.m, I had run from my house screaming and ranting like a drunken lunatic yelling threats at passing cars and inanimate objects. I was arrested and charged with drunken misconduct, but the charges were dropped when they gave me the breathalyzer and discovered I hadn't been drinking at all that night. If I had offended you or any of your inanimate objects, please contact me (248-555-3426) for a "Non-court-mandated" apology. Also, on a personal note, I'm sorry I vomited on you at the last block party. I never had Neapolitan Ice Cream before, and the taste overwhelmed my olfactory senses and I lost it. I would pay for dry cleaning, but you never got a police report on the incident, so you have no proof it was me.
-Sincerely,
Chris Rydin
(P.S. Tell your hot wife I said 'Hi')
Friday, April 23, 2004
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"Now with Sodium acid pyrophosphate" said one product label.
"No sodium acid pyrophosphate added" said the other with a clever little crossed out SAP logo.
"No sodium acid pyrophosphate?!? You Pansy" Said the first.
"What did you just say?" said the other.
"What? The 'sodium acid pyrophosphate' part, or the 'me calling you a pansy'?" said the first.
"Sodium acid pyrophosphate is for morons... LIKE YOU!" said the other.
"Only tree-hugging weakling vegetarians don't eat food products sodium acid pyrophosphate" said the first.
"You wanna start something?" said the other.
"Clinically proven to help lower cholesterol." Said a cereal box across the aisle.
"You stay out of this!" said the first.
"Did you hear me? Why don't you come over here, tough guy?" said the other.
"Mmm." I said. "Sodium acid pyrophosphate." But I had no money.
My eye doctor told me to refrain from making my own contact lenses. I told him to stick it in his ear. He leaned my chair back and put his little 'mouth guard'. He asked me if my eyes have been hurting lately. I told him "No, they haven't. I'm just in here for a cleaning". He grabbed his pick and began checking my eyes for cavities. When he found one, it hurt me so bad. My eye started to water so he grabbed that little vacuum thing and sucked all the moisture out of my eye. He lifted my eyelid and placed the vacuum under my eyelid to catch any more moisture. "Looks like you have a cavity." "Well, go ahead and fill it." I said. He grabbed his drill and hollowed out a little hole and asked the nurse for the filling compound. She looked in the small container on the counter but it was empty. "Dang" he said. Luckily, there were some guys remodeling the room next to the one we were in, so the doctor grabbed some joint compound from them and filled my cavity with it. He sanded it and painted it so It looked like my natural eye. I thanked him for his assistance and paid all past-due bills.
Thursday, April 22, 2004
Something has struck me as unsettling lately. The classic saying, "One man's trash is another man's treasure" is inaccurate on several levels. First, if said trash had value to another man, the original owner would sell it to the man who treasures it. Second, I've gone through people's garbage... no treasure. Lots of smelly stuff, and this one guy had a suspicious amount of hair in his garbage can... It wasn't animal hair or anything... It was human.
The only good thing I've ever pulled out of a dumpster was my dog. He was just a pup back then and I was was just a kid. He might just be a small dog, because he doesn't seem to grow any. Or maybe I just need to feed him more often... but I like to have him run to the dish and start eating the dog food before I even put the dish down like they do on the dog food commercials.
My dog is very smart. Not Lassie smart, more like Rainman smart. When we had a volcano attack the city, he lined the walls with asbestos and ordered supplies that would support the both of us for two months. I caught him doing this, rubbed his nose in the hoarded sundries and tore down the asbestos while he sat in his cage. The volcano almost killed us, but it's the only way he'll learn.
I hate my apartment. The fridge rattles, and the air conditioner leaks condensation on my hardwood floor. The entrance to the family room from the foyer is on the adjacent side as the entrance from the library, which makes any TV larger that 75" either blocks the path, or can only be seen by one couch and not the other two. The warm water takes a long time to come on, which makes all bidet use less than pleasant. The ocean view from my french door to my patio shows the sunrise, but NOT the sunset. When my upstairs neighbor bakes me cookies, she always puts M&M Minis in them, when I told her a dozen and a half times I hate those freaking things, and if she puts those Minis in the cookies again, I will throw them in her face. My guest room has a draft, my billiard room has a window that won't even open, and my swimming pool's control knob is loose. If any of you are looking for an apartment in the New York area, gimme a call. Rent is $450/month.
My $%&* computer broke today. I was typing on it, when the back started smoking. Annoyed, I opened up my antivirus and ran a quick check. I saw sparks cracking out of the power supply as increasing amounts of smoke poured out. I clicked on my System Preferences and checked my IP address, and made sure my subnet mask was accurate. Small flames started peaking outside of my case. I ran a spell check. The back of my case started melting as I shutdown the computer. I loaded the whole thing into my car and brought it back to the store. I piled the puddle of smoldering electronics onto the computer store service counter and informed them the computer was still under warranty. The servicewoman grabbed the fire extinguisher from the back room and extinguished the fire. I thanked her for the help, and scooped the steaming heap into a paper bag supplied by one of the cashiers and walked to my car. By this time, the entire car was up in flames. "Just great." I said out loud. I got in and wrote a note to myself to bring the car into the shop later. I returned home and unloaded the contents of the bag onto my computer desk. I re-installed the operating system and booted it back up and everything was fine. I did lose some of my documents, but I found them about an hour later at the bottom of the paper bag.
Sometimes I sit and wonder what life would be like without Abbreviated Nomenclature Synthetic Polypeptides (Or Polymerized Amino Acids to the lay-person) I once saw an educational video in my 4th grade physics class that had a man who wished that Polymerized Amino Acids didn't exist, and a magical poly(DLGlu56Lys38DTyr6) string appeared and granted his wish. His dried goods only lasted a third of their stamped shelf life and his carbonated drinks had a bland, unsweetened flavor. The guy then recanted the wish and the magical polypeptide returned everything back to normal. The man awoke from his daydream and found it was all a dream... or was it? I don't want Abbreviated Nomenclature Synthetic Polypeptides to be gone (I care too much for my friends and loved ones), but I find it fun to think about, like a world without Odors, or life support systems.
As I type this, I'm suffering from an extensive bout of insomnia. Usually, in these circumstances, I just cover my mouth and nose until I fall asleep, but that wasn't working tonight. My roommate was still sleeping, so I woke him up to ask for tips. He informed me that native americans used to mix toothpaste and mouthwash together and drink it when no other form of liquor was available. I thanked him for the info and let him return to his sleep. My bed is an oversized beanbag chair that has a serious bean shortage, kinda like Lima (The city in Peru, not the bean). Their major export was beanbag beans, but somebody didn't zip up the truck all the way and most of the beans leaked out. It was a big mess.
Yesterday I got a call from a man who seemed quite confused.
"Hello?" I said.
"Yes, is Chris there?" he said.
"No, you have the wrong number." I said
"Is this 248-555-3426?" he said.
"Yes, it is." I said.
"What is your name?" he said.
"Well, It's Chris... but not the Chris you're thinking of." I said.
"My mistake." he said. And, thus, he hung up.
I spent the remainder of the day laughing at how stupid this man would have to be to dial the wrong number on the phone, but then realized he might be one of those freaks, like at the circus, who has two index fingers instead of a middle finger. I tried to call him back to apologize, but the operator had three listings for "Freak with two index fingers" and didn't want dial the wrong number and make the same stupid mistake that moron made.
