Step One: Buy Santa suit. As I warned everyone before, the white of a velociraptor Santa suit never stays white for very long--it gets stained with blood and the darkness from their souls.
Step Two: Buy Santa sack, to carry home the humans in.
Step Three: Go down chimneys, in through windows and doors, and kill humans, stuffing them into sack.
Step Four: Come home, sit baby raptors upon knee, and, while sharing the goods, tell about the very first Christmas...
"Well, little raptors," says Daddy Raptor, "It was a great day for all. We had heard that humans actually expect things to come into their houses on this day. It was a miracle, the first Christmas miracle. With the world asleep, we made our first Christmas meal. Here's to the first Christmas!"
If you did not read my earlier post, I strongly suggest you do so. I put in a very detailed depiction of Santa Raptor vs Santa Claus, as the two in their hats look eerily similar in the dark. Memorize the differences. And buy those bazookas.
Merry Christmas Eve!!!
Friday, December 24, 2010
Monday, December 20, 2010
Today Is Not My Birthday.
But yesterday was. I'm officially 21.
That means I can go out and buy myself a drink. Except not because my license just expired today.
In other news, a velociraptor was sighted consuming a cornfield just last week. You all thought it was aliens leaving the signs didn't you, didn't you? Another government ploy to distract us from the real threat. The farmers have taken no steps towards preventing this--that would be suicide, if there are even any left alive. Just imagine: A velociraptor horde completely concealed in a cornfield. Terrifying. Let that image rest in your mind, think of the quiet field, the stalks blocking out all peripheral vision. You are lost in the maze and there is a sound...was it the wind? You call out. Then try to swallow your sounds from the air because maybe its better if whatever is out there doesn't know you're in here. Its too late. They can smell you...
....
.....
Sweet dreams tonight!
That means I can go out and buy myself a drink. Except not because my license just expired today.
In other news, a velociraptor was sighted consuming a cornfield just last week. You all thought it was aliens leaving the signs didn't you, didn't you? Another government ploy to distract us from the real threat. The farmers have taken no steps towards preventing this--that would be suicide, if there are even any left alive. Just imagine: A velociraptor horde completely concealed in a cornfield. Terrifying. Let that image rest in your mind, think of the quiet field, the stalks blocking out all peripheral vision. You are lost in the maze and there is a sound...was it the wind? You call out. Then try to swallow your sounds from the air because maybe its better if whatever is out there doesn't know you're in here. Its too late. They can smell you...
....
.....
Sweet dreams tonight!
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Associated Members
My school hosts free concerts in the dining area. There seems to be a rule though: If you walk in alone, people stare at you searching, are you sure you belong here? they say. Are you properly associated with this band? Their stares make me feel unwanted, foreign. Or maybe I only think they are searching because I have this overbearing loneliness that started in my chest and crept through to my thoughts.
Associated. The posters and the band t-shirts are all there to buy so that students can associate with something. We must associate. We have a need to associate ourselves with other people, other things. We don't walk the world speaking of things no one else likes or has heard of. We like to be reassured that they have heard of it too. I like this band, I advertise for it on my shirt. You see my shirt and you mention that you too know that band. You associate yourself with something I like. I feel associated with. We become associates. That can lead to friendships.
Friendships are better because in a friendship we are not simply associating, we are sharing. I share myself with you, my friend. We are always wanting to share ourselves. Wanting to tell about ourselves and wanting to hear about others. We want to share and we want to be shared with. That is how we love.
Love is the ultimate form of sharing. Sharing not simply our ideas and likes, our associations, but ourselves. Sharing our bodies, sharing our hearts. That's what we want the most. It is why we associate. So we can share. So we can love.
The music played behind me. I sat alone. Disassociated. Until a friend came by to say hello. And we talked about a class, class being a way we could associate with each other.
The other night when I was walking back to my dorm I saw a light post in the snow, driven there by a snow plow. I was surprised to see it was lit. As I got closer, the light went out. I stood beside it and told it I do believe in fairies, I do and it got brighter. I left it there, a light struggling between brightening more and dying out altogether.
Associated. The posters and the band t-shirts are all there to buy so that students can associate with something. We must associate. We have a need to associate ourselves with other people, other things. We don't walk the world speaking of things no one else likes or has heard of. We like to be reassured that they have heard of it too. I like this band, I advertise for it on my shirt. You see my shirt and you mention that you too know that band. You associate yourself with something I like. I feel associated with. We become associates. That can lead to friendships.
Friendships are better because in a friendship we are not simply associating, we are sharing. I share myself with you, my friend. We are always wanting to share ourselves. Wanting to tell about ourselves and wanting to hear about others. We want to share and we want to be shared with. That is how we love.
Love is the ultimate form of sharing. Sharing not simply our ideas and likes, our associations, but ourselves. Sharing our bodies, sharing our hearts. That's what we want the most. It is why we associate. So we can share. So we can love.
The music played behind me. I sat alone. Disassociated. Until a friend came by to say hello. And we talked about a class, class being a way we could associate with each other.
The other night when I was walking back to my dorm I saw a light post in the snow, driven there by a snow plow. I was surprised to see it was lit. As I got closer, the light went out. I stood beside it and told it I do believe in fairies, I do and it got brighter. I left it there, a light struggling between brightening more and dying out altogether.
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