Archive for the ‘My stories, fact or fiction, past and present.’ category

So I heard a tapping on my window…

July 5, 2012

I hate it when it’s about midnight and I hear a tap on my window. The blinds are closed so I can’t see what it is, but i think “maybe it was just a bug”. Like a moth or something, trying to get to my light. Then I hear it again. It’s too loud to be a moth.
It could be a burglar or murderer, tapping on my window, but what is the likelihood they’d tap on the window of a well lit room? Or maybe in the murdering burglar circle, this has become a popular tactic, because who would expect that right?

So moth is out, but murglar is still a possibility. Could be one of the little kids from next door. They lost their kittens earlier today, but then came over to show them off and tell us they found them. It’s the 4th of July, maybe the fireworks scared them off and they ran away. Maybe the neighbor kids saw a light on and wanted to come see if I’ve seen the kittens, or ask for help finding them.

Why do things have to be so complicated to the point where you’re not sure if there’s a murglar at your window, or concerned little kitten seeking children? (Yes firefox, “murglar” IS a word, add it to my dictionary please)

But maybe it’s neither a murglar nor little children. It could possibly be Scarlett Johansson. Perhaps lost on the way to or from some film location. Perhaps a flat tire. No place around to get it fixed at this time of night. Maybe my light caught her eye and she thought she’d seek help by tapping on my window. Hot celebrities get flat tires too.

I could ignore it and possibly not get murgled, not save kittens, or not meet Scarlett Johansson, who I’d probably end up talking to and totally hit it off. There’s at least a 30% chance we’d end up getting married, or at the very least she’d help start my acting career as the love interest in a film or two of hers.

I’m pretty sure I’ve narrowed down the possibilities to these three. So I’ve got a 33% chance of being murgled, which is not cool, but on the other hand, there’s a 33% chance some little kids need help, and a 33% chance Scarlett Johansson wants my babies. So that’s a 66% chance of something good, and only a 33% chance of death or dismemberment… I’ve got to check…

I grab my flashlight and pocket knife and pull up the blinds completely. I can’t see anything but my own reflection. I quickly slide the window open and stand back, out of murglar grabbing range. And that’s when the God damn bat flew in. Didn’t even look anything like Scarlett Johansson 😦


My first knife

April 30, 2012

I think my first knife is an appropriate story for my first real post.


For as long as I can remember I had a fascination with knives. What boy didn’t? When I was six or seven years old, I would play with screw drivers and pretend they were knives. Or I would steal my moms butter knives and use those for playing in the dirt and sand.  That quickly became outlawed.  Eventually, when I was probably 8 or 9, my dad decided to buy me my first pocket knife. I was so excited.


We went to the sporting goods store–my dad, my 2 older sisters and I–at the local shopping center, which happened to be right next door to a Burger King. The 2 businesses shared a wall, to give you perspective of how close they were, which is semi relevant. We went inside and looked at the case full of knives. My dad let me pick the one I wanted. It was similar to a Swiss army knife. It was pretty small though. Just about as appropriate as you could get for a boys first knife.


My dad went over how important it is to be careful with it. how sharp it is, never cut towards yourself, careful you don’t close it on yourself, etc etc. He made sure I knew it was a responsibility not to be taken lightly. He made sure I knew how easily I could hurt myself. I assured him I understood all of these things and that I was ready. We bought the knife, and before we were out the door I cut my thumb pretty bad.


I had never hurt myself that bad before, so I was really freaking out. My dad sent my sisters next door to Burger King to get some napkins for my thumb while we remained inside the sporting goods store. That’s how bad it was, and how much I was freaking out, that I couldn’t even go right next door. We just waited.


My sisters came back about 15 minutes later with napkins and milkshakes in hand. They explained that the line was really long. of course they could have just taken napkins from one of about 7 different places throughout Burger King and just returned. but no, they figured while they were there they might as well get milkshakes. It should be noted that I did not get a milkshake.