MILF by Zaxxon Q Blaque

 

My Bumps in the Night

 Hello world.

I know that I have been absent from pretty much all social activity, save for the random Facebook memories that I repost that fill me with nostalgia. They give me comfort and some last lingering thread to the real world. On the flipside of that coin, my personal reality, pain is what really traps me within myself and steals me away from further interactions, such as this. Right now, I'm having a "pain remission" that allows me a limited amount of time to actually speak. Well, type, actually. So, I feel like I should use this time wisely to "talk" to you, whoever you are that is reading this.

My pain. Let's put it all on the table. Over the past year or so (time is hard to grasp in these days of perpetual isolation), I've started to develop what we think is rheumatoid arthritis. My hands go absolutely bonkers. Fingers and joints swell, my wrist has developed a lump, and then there's the burning sensations all through the palms from what we can only believe is nerve damage. All of this is totally random, mind you, so it's been quite the interesting roller coaster of misery. That's the bulk of the main physical issue.

Secondary to the shit-show that are my hands, I've started developing... well... bumps. Noticeable growths on other parts of my body, all connected to the bone. They are hard lumps that usually do not cause any discomfort. There's one on my arm, a couple on my knees, one prominent one on my foot, and I'm sure there are others not yet discovered. Probable riddled with the damn things. This revelation is... troubling, yes, but has really started to prompt me to delve within. I'll explain...

Aside from the obvious depression that comes so easily to me after long isolation, most self-inflicted, there's been a lingering thought... of death. Don't get me wrong, I don't WANT to die, those days are very far behind me. Besides, I failed all of those, so why try again? I joke, so chill. I mean, I have been thinking about the inevitability, or the possibility, of my last days. I've actually, chillingly so, made such beautiful serene peace with it and embraced the idea that this will all pass for me. Eventually...

I think about what I leave behind. Friends, family, fur babies, all my loved and cherished, but is there really a legacy? Is there something poignant about Brandon "Brad" Nead Sharp? Sure, there's a silly little book out there by a Zaxxon Q Blaque, whoever the fuck that is anymore. I haven't seen that bastard for years, which is why I'm doing all of this. He was my legacy. He was my muse. He was my... soul. I hear a whisper from him as I'm typing this, which is always the case when creating, but now it's soft and muffled. Like trying to talk through the clenched hand of death.

Yes, of course we are trying to see a doctor or a specialist, but they are not responding. As if they know their help would be useless since I can't afford to be alive in America. Even striving for some sort of disability assistance seems fruitless with all of the stories and actual personal witnessing of the failed system continuously denying the sick. This entire thing is going to be a struggle, even without the symptoms. America- Land of the (it's) free (to die). It's cheaper to not exist... for everyone involved.

Sometimes my mind is clear. The way it was when I started typing. Riled up for a literary mission of some sort, not knowing where it's going or even the point of this wordy mess. Now, the fog is knocking at the door and the pain is crawling through the windows and settling into my wrist and hands. I think about death a lot now, and I even think I see it. In my periphery. It seems closer...

Roseanne/The Conners Lost Scene

I seriously have the most entertaining dreams. My love for the television series Roseanne and the spin-off revival series The Conners has seeped into my oversaturated subconscious at a level I didn't know was possible. Knowing these characters better than my own family has allowed my mind to dream up full scenes that never existed, but are still absolutely true to the series and its cast. Now, I don't know a thing about writing a screenplay, but I did the best I could so I could just get it out there. The only thing that matters is that this made me wake up from my own laughter. Enjoy!

Roseanne/The Conners - Random "Lost" Opening

Scene: Two vehicles on a road trip, Darlene Conner (driver) and Nana Mary (passenger) in first car with Jackie Harris (driver) and Beverly Harris (passenger) close behind them.

First car, internal Nana Mary, sifts through her fanny pack pulling out an orange prescription bottle:

"Oh! I have Bev's meds!"

Darlene, glancing over:

"Are they important? Should we pull over?"

Nana Mary shakes her head:

"No, no. It's just her gas pills. She's always had a bit of a problem, especially when I'd bathe her. We used to call her Bubble Butt Bev. She thought it meant something else..."

Nana Mary pauses:

"I'll just let her know I got them."

Nana Mary proceeds to unbuckle her seat belt, roll down her window, hang her head out while facing the second car, and shakes the bottle of pills while yelling:

"Hey, Bev! I have your fart pills!"

Cut to second car, external, front-on, as we see Beverly's eyes widen with mouth agape.

Back to Nana Mary:

"Do you need one, hon?"

Beverly suddenly becomes very animated, flailing her arms, mouthing words at Nana Mary and then Jackie.

Nana Mary to Darlene:

"I can't tell what she's saying. Can you?"

Darlene looks in the rear view mirror:

"All I got was something something, you old bat, something, I wish I was adopted, something, nursing home, Jackie ram her, and the rest just looks like vowels."

Nana Mary:

"Oh, she's fussy. I bet it's gas."

Nana Mary pauses:

"Their sunroof is open..."

Nana briefly turns to Darlene:

"Watch this, kid."

Nana Mary opens the bottle and takes out a pill:

"Here, sweetie, take one of these."

Nana Mary tosses one of the pills at the car, hitting the windshield, causing Beverly to flinch in absolute shock as Jackie rolls her eyes.

Back to Nana Mary:

"Well, hell Bev, ya gotta TRY to catch it! Uh, hold on, I'm gonna try again."

Nana Mary once again tosses a pill at the windshield as Beverly sits in a frozen state of shock.

Nana Mary:

"Oh, dammit! Here!"

Nana Mary tosses a handful of pills at the windshield prompting Beverly into a full-on tantrum.

Back to first car interior, a mobile phone rings.

Darlene:

"Uh, Nana Mary. I think your fanny is ringing."

Nana Mary gets back into the car, reaches in her fanny pack, and pulls out a flip-phone:

"Huh. I always forget that I have this thing."

She flips it open, answering on speaker:

"Hello?"

Jackie, over the phone:

"Nana Mary, I love you, but if you don't stop antagonizing your daughter, so help me god I will drive off this road AND TAKE HER WITH ME!"

Line disconnects, Nana Mary turns to Darlene:

"Maybe we should pull over. She sounds gassy, too. Gets it from her mother."

Darlene, stoic:

"Really? I wonder where she gets it from?"

Darlene rolls down her automatic window.

BUSSY!!!

 

*showing this to the hubby*

Him: Bussy?

Me: Boy pussy.

Him: What?

Me: Boy pussy!

Him: What?!

Me: BOY👏🏻PUSSY👏🏻!!!

Him: Oh my god, stop yelling "boy pussy" by the open window!!!

I just lose it, but internally I'm screaming, "Stop making me laugh! You're making me sputter-fart! They're so hot, I don't know if I'm shitting myself!"

So, there I was, laying on my back, legs kicking in the air, lost in a fit, just laughing and farting like a toddler, not knowing if I was "making" without my husband doing the mommy two finger check in the back.

No. I did not "make". And no. He did not check. 

Then, this scene is so vivid in my mind:

*Dog walker passing our house*

"Go poopies! Go p-"

"Boy pussy!"

"......... Uh..... G-go poo-"

"BOY PUSSY!!!"

"......... Hello, police?"

So, does this character think I'm demanding it, like, pounding the dinner table with a knife and fork, or is it a shout of surprise like I'm unwrapping some very inappropriate gift? "*gasp* Boy pussy! You shouldn't have!"

One of the top three funniest moments in my life!

Why Wry, My Sly Eye Sty?

 Little sty on my eye

Why do you make me cry

Hurts so much I want to die

What'd I do, tell me why

How I hate you, little sty

I will murder you, you can rely 

A hot poker to make you fry 

A quick pop and a sigh 

Until then, I'll just lie

And scream, "FUUUUUUUUCK! FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUUUUUUUUCK! FUCK YOU STY! FUCK YOU! FUCKING FUCK!"

Been watching a lot of South Park since I can only see shapes and colors, so it's best to hear all of that in Cartman's voice. 😉 (not a wink, that's just my face now)

Dreams Be Weird, Yo

 My dreams are so weird in the fact that they can set up full plots and details for a complete storyline and reference the details later on at the end of the dream. It's fascinating, really.

This morning, I woke from another strange one...

Quick dream setup: It was the early 80s, and I was working at a large hotel with a rather sizable staff. I was part of the dream-vague general staff (you'd think I'd make myself something more important like a manager, but noooooo). During one morning meeting, our manager stated that we had a new addition from one rival hotel. She was just another new member of the vague general staff named Cheryl. Wife, mother of two, and your typical middle-aged Midwestern with a faded red perm and large tortoise shell glasses. Very soft spoken, very sweet, very polite, and very chatty.

When asked by my small motley clique of employees (you know, the cool kids) why she left, she said that the last hotel was haunted. "Haunted?!", I said. "Yes! Really! Haunted!", Cheryl insisted, "Strange things would happen there all the time! It wasn't just that hotel; it was also the one I worked at before that one, and the one before that one, too! It's like it's following me!" The manager laughed and told her not to worry and that our hotel was not haunted in the slightest. My group and I laughed and reassured her not to worry. She smiled and relaxed a little in her chair.

The day went normally, and the night as well, but the next morning was chaos. A vacationing couple woke from their bed to find it was floating in the hotel pool. When my staff and I arrive, the couple was screaming something about a monster that did it. After we got them to safety, we spot something in the water. Sure enough, it was a creature, and it leapt out of the water and ran off. The odd thing about it was that it looked more like a small child wearing one of those old cheap plastic Halloween Costumes from a five and dime. Realizing this, I rolled my eyes and said, "Creature from the Black Lagoon? Really?" 

When I said this, I saw another small figure run around the other side of the pool and hide in the lounge. As my crew and I look around, I told them (in trying-to-be-clever-dream-dialogue), "Okay, it looks like we're looking for your typical cereal box vampire." Just then, a kid jumped out in a full, deluxe version of a cheap Halloween costume. It was a well dressed figure, in a tux, sporting a red amulet, and spreading a cape as it posed intimidatingly... except, y'know, it was all in thin cheap painted plastic. He hissed through the slit in the mouth of the crudely painted vampire mask and ran off. "Okay, sorry, we're looking for the KING of the cereal box vampires, Dracula.", I turn to yell in the direction that the caped menace ran off in, "Better?!" We never found the kid, but to be fair, it was a half-assed search mission.

When I went downstairs to join the meeting about all of the crazy things happening in the hotel, I noticed that the front desk receptionist was acting frustrated and frazzled. When I asked her why, she told me that the phone keeps ringing, but when she answers it, there's nothing but a dial tone. I did a quick search of the desk area and found a micro cassette recorder and it was playing a tape on loop of the front desk phone ringing every thirty seconds. I turned it off, slipped it into my pocket, and let the receptionist know that she's good now. She thanked me, jaw agape.

I walk into the meeting area and sit in my usual assigned spot which happens to be close to the new employee, Cheryl. She's having a very in depth personal conversation with the woman next to her. They're having a good time sharing all sorts of details of their lives and experiences. She's a master at conversation and making people feel comfortable enough to open up to her. I also hear her not only spill details about herself, but about several other people by name, too. I was kind of amazed at how she dropped such personal details about others with such ease as to not rattle the other person she was speaking with and continue the flow. As I watched them, there was a scream.

We look over to an empty chair, and behind it is another employee, standing with her hand over her mouth, and looking down at the chair through a stream of tears. She wailed, "Who did this?! WHO. Did. THIS?!" We all looked confused. Before anyone could say anything, she ran from the room. When another woman looked in the chair, she gasped. She picked up a container of baby food as others started murmuring. I sat there in silence with the knowledge that the woman had recently had a miscarriage. I look at Cheryl who whispers to herself, "It's happening, again!" Suddenly, my magical dream detective mind starts to put the clues together. 

"Cheryl?", I asked as I turned to her. She looked at me, "Yes?" I start my grilling, "About how many hours do you put into a typical workweek?" Confused, she says, "Oh, uh, I dunno... about 60-ish hours, give or take... but mostly give." I nod, "And do you know the name of the woman that just left?" Still bewildered, "Yeah. That was Connie. She just recently had a miscarriage. Oh, it was tragic. I told my husband about it and we both felt so awful and thanked the lord above for our two boys..." She went on and on as her voice faded.

Then it all clicked. I solved it. BUT, with this being set in dream territory, there's no satisfying end. I didn't get to actually solve it out loud to all of the other dream actors. It was all internal; Cheryl was a workaholic mom who didn't spend enough time with her kids, so they sabotaged her job with "supernatural" pranks so that the hotel would be shut down and she could spend time with them. That's it. Case solved. In my head. 

As I was waking up and the dream was ending, the scene turned into one that was on a TV screen and I was the actor no more, but the spectator. Cheryl, according to the rules of a gay man's dream-space, launched into a song complete with subtitles so that I could sing along.

I never got to.

Twenty-Twenty: Advice to Get By

In this very tough time of plagues, politics, and phuckery, it can be hard to stay positive, or at the very least, sane. With a world of information at our fingertips, it can be tempting to click on all links through tangent rabbit holes where you can very quickly, and quite literary, lose 'yourself'. That's why I'd like to share my method of keeping sane(ish), staying positive(ish), and holding on for dear life to my humor through all of this ish. This is my advice on what works for ME, so it may need some adjustments to work for YOU, but the structure remains consistent. If you find it necessary to be on the internet, please take this guide with you, because it's dangerous to go alone...

1. Limit your time online. I know that is asking a LOT, but if you are following even a portion of this guide, it's possible.

2. Trust ONLY actual, official news stories from actual, official news websites. Also, try to get the unbiased news; facts only! No more BubbaFreedomNewsDotCom and no more conspiracy theories. If it takes an hour long story to set up any reported facts, run away! Those can be more toxic than anything out there.

3a. Stay away from politics. Period. Just focus on FACTS. Facts are simple true statements that have no bias, motive, or the hunger to spread and change views. They're just truths, they just exist, they just... are. If you believe them, awesome. If you don't, that's fine, they're cool with that. They still remain as established facts.

3b. When scrolling online, try your best to not click on shared stories involving politics or politicians. No good can come from it. If at all possible, limit your political news to your immediate area and how things are being affected there.

4. This is a doozy that will help MOST of us get through this together; DO NOT POST ANY REPLIES TO YOUR FRIENDS' POSTS. PERIOD! If you agree with them, smile and scroll. If you disagree with them, frown for a moment, get over it, and scroll. If they mention making a blood sacrifice to the old gods to break the curse of 2020, have a moment of concern, consider reaching out or calling the authorities, don't do any of that, and scroll. We're friends for a few reasons, none of them based on our personal views of 2020. Let's keep it that way.

5. Be kind. To Friends. To family. To essential workers. To yourself. No matter what, please be kind. 2020 is having its way with all of us, we're all in the 'MeToo2020' support group, we are ALL having a very difficult time with ALL of this, so please do not add to it. Don't make it harder on others because it's hard on you. That is such a vicious cycle that needs to be stopped immediately.

6. Listen to science and medical staff. They are your new god, now. "Wear a mask!" Yes, Lord. "Stay inside!" Preach! "Work from home!" Amen! Kidding aside, we have always trusted doctors before this, so why are we not doing this now? "Take two of these, shove them up your butt, stay in bed for a week with a diet of broth and dreams." Yes, doctor! One week later and you're thanking them. Now it's, "Wear a mask for your 10 minute trip inside any public place." No! Eff you! Freedom! 'Murica! *cocks gun* It's this thinking that has kept us from getting over this crisis that should've ended MONTHS ago.

7. This is going to be a tender subject, so I'll try to be as gentle as possible... quit leaning on God. God is busy at the moment. You need to step up and take care of things with the tools, free will, intelligence, and educated individuals that your God has blessed you with. Don't leave it all on God. God doesn't do well with demands. Don't EXPECT miracles, MAKE them!

8. Have fun. Check out for the day or a few times a day to do something that is purely for you and your happiness. It can be anything! This is where it's perfectly fine to be selfish, but please do not do something that would negatively impact another person. I season my days by making stupid jokes and posting memes. I've always been addicted to making people laugh, so that is my go-to. It's totally selfish, but as a bonus, it makes others happy too. Even if only for a moment.

I could keep going, but I think these eight items are a great place to start. Eight is great! LOL! Yeah, that was terrible. Anyhoo, go out and spread rainbows or some crap. I'm going to go watch Unsolved Mysteries so I feel better about the hand I've been dealt and realize that it really isn't all that bad. According to this show, I could've been set on fire while being mugged by a ghost alien in the middle of Scotland for some reason. ^_^

The Only Man I Called 'Dad'

     I know it has been an extremely long time since my last update on this site, and I apologize for that, but this is something far too important to not share.

     I need to tell you about someone that came into my life. More accurately, I came into his life. When I met the man that I was to marry, we both knew that it was meant to be. So, he invited me to live with him and his two parents who both took me in without hesitation. His father, William Condinzio Sr., accepted me with true Italian gusto, happy to have me in the fold, offering me food at every turn. That's how you knew he loved you; he would always make sure you were fed so you would stick around longer. Over time, the only man that I would call dad and I would share a bond over sweets and desserts, something rarely shared with others in the house. It would amaze me that a large box of treats would vanish on the day that they were bought. It was sometimes infuriating, but mostly amusing and endearing. I'd usually crack a smile to myself when I saw the vacant area where they were seen last. That's how I learned the house rule 'you snooze, you lose'. Aside from that, when he saw you, he would often offer food, or a list of edibles in the kitchen, sometimes even while you were in the process of making something to eat. "No, Dad, I don't need a snack while I wait for the two minutes on the microwave, but thank you."

     Dad would also offer bits of trivial facts, just so you had the knowledge for later. "There's [a list of food] in the pantry, there's [a list of food] in the refrigerator, I could make [a prepared food option] if you want, the garbage goes out tonight, the car is in the garage, I'll be in my room." "Okay. Thanks, Dad." That would often be a joke with Will and I. "There's clean towels in the bathroom. Also, there's food in the kitchen and the car is in the garage." Dad just wanted things to be as easy as possible for the family. He was a very kind and generous man. He'd give you the shirt off his back, which is my own internal explanation as to why he was often shirtless; he gave them all away! Even in times of great pain, he would often offer his pain medication to the rest of the family if they weren't feeling all too great. Family came first.

     I'm going to miss the hell out of him (and his cooking). I'll try to do Will right by him, but I know my food will be nowhere near as good as his. I'll also miss his unique vocabulary. "I had a 'snizzle' of your cheesecake." I'd joke with him, "Oh, word?!" "Yeah! It was pretty good!" 'Snizzle' is totally in my everyday speak, now.

The void is something very tangible and it hurts like a sonovabitch, but knowing that I was lucky enough to have called this man Dad does offer some comfort.

I love you, Dad. More than a snizzle. There's food in the kitchen, the car is in the garage, and you're always in our hearts.

~MKP-TAG~

~MKP TAG~ Mortal Kombat Project Tag
My Mortal Kombat Project edit based on the latest releases of MKP V4.1-S2.9 (MKP4129) for MUGEN by Borg117 with a tag system added thanks to MKP Chairs Project (https://youtu.be/p-6CemuQ6PU). Credits for all components of the game are in their associated folders and files. All of the download links will be updated as I continue to make improvements and revisions.

Tag Attack = LP+HK
Tag Out = RUN+LK

Breaker = RUN+BLOCK

MKP4129 gets another huge update! Introducing the Tag System! Select "TAG", choose your fighters, and play MvC style! Use LP+HK to call your team member in for a special attack. Use RUN+LK to swap with your partner! The AI will control the secondary characters, so there is also a NO AI program included so you can turn player 1's AI off and control BOTH of your tag team members! This mode replaces the chaotic (LOL) simultaneous team mode, but in my opinion, it's way better and more fun! One glitch I've noticed is that your tag team will all have the same blood color, but that doesn't bug me too much. Also, Bloody Scorpion, MvC Chameleon, Chameleon Project, and Eyedol will not work with the tag system.

I will put the usual links below that have the 7ZIP file and the individual files directory, but I HIGHLY recommend downloading the 7ZIP file. I will also keep the regular ~MKP~ up to download if you do not wish to play ~MKP TAG~, but I will no longer be updating ~MKP~; I will only be updating ~MKP TAG~ from now on. ~HGK~ will also still be available.

You will also find two additional exe files to expand your tag team roster; 3 vs 3 and 4 vs 4. These use the tag system as well. Use RUN+LK to cycle through all of your members while playing.

Character Bios, Aggressor Meter, Combo Breakers, and Kombat Kodes are also still present. If you do not want to use the Aggressor Meter and/or the Combo Breakers, there are folders in the data/MKP folder with edited common1.cns files; just copy those and place them in the data/MKP folder to replace the one there.

I have added three logo videos and two different lifebars in the data/MKP folder. You should notice a few added folders there. Just COPY, don't cut, the files in the folders, then paste them in data/MKP to replace the default files. This video will help: 

Second Lifebar Option:

All characters have been updated to their latest and greatest versions. New characters have also been added! Quite a few bugs have been fixed, a lot of sprites have been edited, a lot of code has been modified, and I even found the time to create a new icon for the exe files!

As always, I am very grateful to the MUGEN and MKP community. I'm so glad that I got back into editing games again and that people actually LIKE playing my build!!! If you like what you see, be sure to subscribe to my YouTube channel so you don't miss out on any further updates, because there WILL be more! Feel free to ask questions, report glitches, or even just to say "Hi!"

Subscribe, like, share, but most of all, enjoy!

~Download ~MKP-TAG~
GoogleDrive
MediaFire
MEGA

~Download ~MKP~
GoogleDrive
MediaFire
MEGA

~Download ~HGK~
GoogleDrive
MediaFire
MEGA

"Aural Amore"

    He sings. A lot. Either in another room while browsing on his laptop, in the shower, or riding in the car, he will always be singing. He may hit the wrong note or lyric, but that will never deter him. He will belt it out loud and proud. He's become the background music to my life, and I never want to stop hearing him.

    He gushes. He tells me multiple times every day that he loves me. He will stop what he is doing and interrupt whatever I am doing just to tell me “I love you!” Every night before bed must end with that phrase as well. Sure, sometimes I want to continue what I am doing or just want to slip into unconsciousness, but I repeat after him regardless, and I never want to stop hearing him.

    He snores at me. No, I do not mean 'He snores next to me'. When we sleep and his face is close to mine, where I can feel each hot breath, he violently snores at me. I don't mind, though. I am quite used to it, but even if I am disrupted from slumber, I do not get annoyed. I like the reminder that he's there, and I never want to stop hearing him.

    I've been here ever since that day. That day when I heard screeching tires and his voice calling my name with an 'I love you'. The pills they give me here don't seem to have the intended result they were hoping for. He still sings. He still gushes. He still snores. He still does all of this despite the accident that left me permanently deaf while also taking his life...

and I never...

EVER...

want to stop...

hearing...

him...

Gruff Love

 This is my Pap-Pa. He's freaking awesome. He's the first person that I ever saw, real or fictional, that was a genuine bad-ass. I looked up to this veritable force of nature. He was always powering through some project, be it gardening, home improvements, woodwork, car repair, power tool maintenance, or just fiddling and trying to improve some gadget. He was never still. He is also the reason that I'm not some dullard that's barely getting by. He knew my potential and he'd be damned to have a grandson that's a dumb-ass. He instilled in me a love of math and science that still exists today. I also think that my humor and creativity is an extension of him from all his projects and one line zingers. Yes, he was a rough and gruff old man, but that was just Pap-Pa. He showed his love in ways that you might have to interpret through his aggressive nature, which he expressed often, so you know he loved greatly and passionately. I know he had a heavy hand in shaping me into the man I am today. I don't think that I would be as moral, creative, funny, intelligent, and have such a strong work ethic without him.

Yes, as you may have gathered from my use of the past tense, my Pap-Pa has just moved on from this world. He was 92, so we were the luckiest damn people to have him for so long! Now, I don't want you to comment with your "sorrys" and such. That's not the Pap-Pa way. I want you to tell me your favorite memory of Pap-Pa. Let's smile and laugh. If you never got the chance to know this awesome dude, just post your favorite curse word. That was one of his ways of say "I love you".  Even his overly exaggerated yawns were punctuated by them "*YAAAAAAWN* Hell." I'm gonna miss hearing that. Thankfully, I can do a spot-on impression of them. ^_^

Speaking of curse words, here's my story: Mam-Ma collected VHS movies. Like, literal thousands. Because of her, I got to experience a vast world of genres, my favorite of course, horror. I was watching a horror movie at their place one day, and as you know there's quite a bit of vulgarities in those kinds of movies. After a scene that was dropping the F-Bomb quite a bit, Pap-Pa turned to Mam-Ma and exclaimed, "By god, why the HELL are you letting him watch this DAMN crap?! He doesn't need to hear that SHIT!" I smiled silently to myself.

Well, hell, Pap-Pa (that means 'I love you, Pap-Pa'; also 'well, hell' was his and my absolute favorite phrase). 

Thank you for everything.

"Retirement Home (based on a true story)"

    Retirement is not what you think at all. “Oh, you're retired! It must be so nice to have all that free time!” is the usual reaction when people learn of our situation. I want to slap them in their ignorant mouth every time. Here's the deal; retirement isn't fun in the slightest. Sure, the first few months are fine. Catching up with hobbies, friends, family, and upkeep on the house. After that, though, you are constantly preoccupied with the unrelenting task of trying to fill the rest of your free time. It gets maddening. If it wasn't for my wife, Mitsu, I'd be in the loony bin after the first year. “Now now, Frank”, she'd whisper and take my wrinkled hand in hers, “No need to get so worked up.” She knew I wanted to smack the taste out of people's mouths that gave the smiling, polite reactions indicating that they couldn't possibly fathom to understand, yet. They will. One day.

    I should be considering myself lucky. I have a loving wife of forty years, a house that's been paid off for the past twenty years, and a brand-spanking-new van that I bought outright as a retirement present to myself for various hardware store excursions. Even though I was no longer a foreman, I still found the need to fiddle here and there with various home improvements. After her own retirement from a large software company, Mitsu keeps tinkering with computers, gadgets, and other things that are just way too over my head to grasp. Old habits die hard. So do we, apparently.

    It was in the third year of our retirement that the visits started happening. I guess someone heard my wish for a little excitement in our mundane day-to-day. The first knock at our door perplexed both of us. “Are you expecting someone?” Mitsu asked with a confounded expression. “Hell no”, I huffed, struggling out of my recliner to confront the interruption. I was ready to tell whoever it was to peddle their wares or  Jesus elsewhere, but when I opened the door, I was greeted with red hair and a smile from a small, almost waifish, young girl. “Yes?”, I half-barked. “Uh, hi! I don't know how to say this...”, she peered behind me where Mitsu was poking her head out of the kitchen. “My phone. I have a tracker that says it's here...”, seemingly losing her confidence, she peered down at a mobile phone displaying a map, then shoved the device in my face. “See? That's your house. You wouldn't happen to have my phone... would you?” I brushed her hand to the side, “Now, look here. I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but the only phone that we have is bolted to the wall. Does that sound like your phone to you?!” “N-no,” she cowered, “I'm s-sorry.” She turned, tail tucked, and left. Mitsu couldn't control her laughter. “You're so mean!”, she teased as I closed the door. Later that night as we were watching crime show reruns, a commercial boomed, “Find your lost phone with the 'Where My Phone At?!' app!” Mitsu shot me a grinning, knowing look. I scoffed, smiled, and shook my head.

    After that, the visits became a daily part of our lives. A barrage of different people, either alone, with friends, or even the police, all looking for a cell phone at our home that some tracking application pegged as the last location of their beloved device. Some were understanding, knowing that technology wasn't perfect and that it must be a glitch; others, not fooled by our “elderly couple cover”, were worked up into an angry froth and demanded that we return their stolen property. The local law enforcement soon caught on to the case of wrongful accusations and tried their best to quell the easily excitable masses. “Look, I get it” I told one officer, “People put too much reliability into technology, and when it fucks up, they don't want to admit their own damn stupidity. I just worry about the safety of my wife and my house. I don't need one of these dumb-asses getting drunk, riled up, and coming to my home with their redneck mob.” "I know where you're coming from, Mr. Simms", he nodded, "I assure you that if it should ever come to that, call me directly and I'll be over as soon as I can." It seemed to be about the only assistance that we could get from them. That, and the bullshit explanation as to why this was happening in the first place. Something about GPS, triangulation, wireless towers, and WiFi. In other words, things that Mitsu would have to explain to me repeatedly.

    On a particularly cloudy day, we received our regular knock at the door. Ready to blow off yet another lost soul, wandering without purpose since the loss of their electronic life, I whipped the door open. “Where is she?!” was hurled violently at me from the mouth of a black leather clad biker type, “Where is my sister?!” I was taken aback by the sudden change of question. Phones, I could deal with. I had experience with those. Missing girls, not so much. “Where is she?! I know she was here!” he belted once again, holding up a tattered photograph of red hair and grinning teeth. The very same face that I had turned away weeks ago when this all began. “Look...” I tried to explain as I saw three police officers approach behind the large man, “I don't know what you're getting at, but there's no one here. Just my wife and me. No cell phones and definitely no girls.” He seemed confused by my answer, but pressed on, “I know she's here.” He motioned to the cops, “And they're gonna find her.”

    The police officers presented us with a warrant and then escorted Mitsu and myself out to the front lawn. They explained to us that since this was a person and not a phone, they had to take this situation a little more seriously. Her last location, according to her phone and her mother's phone that she used to track it, was our house. She never made it home. We were the last people to see her alive. The situation with the tracking glitch was explained to her brother, but he still insisted on searching. “Feel free to do whatever you need to do”, I told the officers and the burly gentleman, “I'm sorry about your sister, so if it helps to search our home, please... We have nothing to hide and want to assist in any way that we can.” His face softened a bit as he came to the realization that a retiree and his little, elderly wife couldn't possibly have anything to do with the disappearance of his sister.  “I'm sorry”, he resigned, “I just don't know what else to do. This was my last resort.” “It's okay”, Mitsu took his hand gently, “You'll see her again. I promise!” That was all it took to drop the guy to his knees in a stream of blubbering tears. I smirked at the display of tenderness from my wife and the fact that this tiny Asian woman just took out a six-foot-plus giant.

    An hour later, the police left our house a bit disorganized, but thankfully not destroyed. “I'm sorry, sir, but there doesn't seem to be anything here”, one of the cops informed the missing girl's brother, “I wish we could be of more assistance, but this seems to be the same tracking error.” After the police left, the biker thanked us and apologized again for the trouble. “Come in for tea”, Mitsu begged him, “Tell us about her.” He obliged as she served him a cup of hot herbs and honey at the dinning room table. They talked for a bit about the red haired girl. How she was the first one to come to our door looking for her phone. About how I scared her away. About how my wife ran back outside and asked her to join us inside for a cup of tea. He looked up and inquired, “What kind of tea... is this...?” “The same that I give all my guests! A special Japanese blend that I make myself!”, Mitsu beamed. “I... I don't...”, I watched in silence as he tried to stand up, but failed miserably and fell to the floor with a thunderous thud. Mitsu giggled and clapped gleefully.

    Dragging the biker's unconscious body down the stairs to the basement was more daunting than I thought it would be. I was afraid that he would come to with every stair that his head hit. “How does a petite girl have such a beast of a brother?!”, Mitsu grunted. Upon landing at the bottom, I went over to the hand-built shelves lining the far left wall and clicked the flawlessly hidden switch that swung it open to reveal the walls of a small room lined with cinder blocks and thick metal links. I dragged the biker inside as Mitsu clanked a pair of wall shackles on him. She exited just in time to see him struggle against the grogginess in his head and the chains on his wrists. He turned his head to the right allowing his eyes to take in the full horror of  decomposing corpses all around him including that of his sister. “No! No!!!Why?! I'll kill you! I swear to god, I'll kill you!”, he screamed, shaking his restraints. “See?”, Mitsu smiled, “I promised you'd see her, again!” The screams became a string of vulgarities to which I responded with closing the shelves and latching it shut, returning the basement to silence once more. “You built that so well! I can't hear him at all!”, Mitsu exclaimed with sheer delight. I hugged her close and kissed her forehead. I don't know how I'd survive retirement without her.

    Mitsu pushed away from my chest and shuffled over to her computer in the far corner. She turned off the wireless jamming device, turned the WiFi back on, and continued coding the latest patches for her “Where My Phone At?!” app...

"Basic House" is a "Basic Laugh"

I'm not sure if this is to be taken seriously or if it's some sort of new hipster art. 

Hilarious. Admirable, but hilarious.

This photo-shoot doesn't really do it justice, either. 

Especially with this photo.

It forces people, like myself, to do awful things like this...

Look what you made me do.

Then there's the video which already makes it seem like a parody of itself.

So, what, are you supposed to seriously live in a superhero's cape that is perpetually blowing in the wind? Eat, defecate, and then roll around with it like the world's most disgusting tumbleweed? How would bringing a date home work? After dinner, you head to an alley, whip out your house, then romantically toss them in on your ground-bed? "Hey baby, why don't we ruffle these walls from the inside out? Watch out for that rolling turd."

What are your thoughts?