Friday, November 1, 2024

Three Short Tales of Terror

 For Halloween 2024.


I

    You roll over  to try and get comfortable, but no matter how hard you try, the wood feels solid and firm on your back. Trying to lie on your arm isn't any more helpful either.

    You think back to when you found the genie in a bottle. That was, how many years ago? You've lost count. A worm crawls across your toes. You flick it away. You think that those would all be gone by now; nothing left to eat.

    The first wish had been easy. One billion dollars. One billion is a big number, bigger than most people realize. One million seconds? A little less than two weeks. But one billion seconds? That was a little less than 32 years. You wonder if you've been in this box that long. Feels like it sometimes.

    The second wish was something you've wanted since high school. Your skull itches and you absent-mindedly flick a beetle away. Your second wish was to be able to sleep uninterrupted. You were tired of your teachers trying to wake you up in class, or your parents trying to wake you up on Monday morning. That was probably why you were here now, you realize.

    You're not really sure how your arms and legs still work, figuring they're just long thin bones now. You sigh and try to get comfortable and sleep for the millionth time. Things would be a lot better if it weren't for that third wish, you decide, yet again. Not only is there a big difference between a million and a billion, but you figured out, when you first started to decompose, that there was a big difference between eternal youth and what you wished for.

    Man, how you wish you hadn't wished for immortality. 


II

    Ricky Dismock walked down the road on Halloween night, smirking. His bag was filled with candy of all sorts, and he had already eaten a lot of it. 

    He turned down another street and went up to the first house. Oh, boy! Another bowl on the front porch. Ricky walked up to it and turned it upside down into his bag, leaving the bowl empty. Then he quickly skirted back to the street.

    A few houses down, the porch light was on, so he knocked on the door. An older lady opened it. "Trick or Treat!" Ricky declared, hoping for some good king-sized candy bars. What he got instead were pieces of black licorice. As soon as the lady shut the door, Ricky made a disgusted face. He poured out the nasty black licorice all over her yard, and knocked over one of her Halloween decorations on his way past.

    The night went on like this for a while, until he came to a large brown house. Like other houses before, this one had its treats on a small table outside in the driveway. It was a tray of brownies, with a sign over saying: "Warning! Please only take ONE!" Ricky scoffed and grabbed the whole tray anyway. Perhaps he would return the glass pan later. Perhaps not, he didn't care either way.

    That night he went home and feasted. Reese's Peanut butter Cups, Snickers, Milky Ways, and, of course, the whole tray of brownies. It wasn't until later in the night when he was asleep that his stomach started to bother him.

    He awoke in a cold sweat, and promptly turned over in bed and vomited all over the floor. Perhaps I may have overdone it on the candy, he thought. He stumbled into the bathroom and collapsed on the floor. Did some of the candy have drugs in it? he thought.

    A half hour later he still wasn't feeling better, but really had to use the toilet. He struggled up and used it, only to discover that his pee was a blue color. He had heard of that before-if you put methylene blue in a cookie or some other treat, in small amounts it was harmless, and would turn a person's urine a blueish color. 

    As his stomach seized up again and he fell to the floor, he had two other horrifying thoughts. The first was that while in small amounts methylene blue was harmless, in larger amounts it was actually quite poisonous. You should never eat more than one snack spiked with it.

    His second thought, as his eyes fluttered closed, was: The brownies.


III

    James smiled and raised a glass of champagne to himself. He was finally done!

    Alone in his office late at night, he drank down the glass and set it down on his desk. Proudly he looked at his creation: a large metal modem, about the size of a large car. Wires of all different colors ran across the outside of it, sometimes haphazardly, sometimes nice and ordered. He had worked hard for over a decade on this machine, a machine that was able to turn time backwards.

    Soon, he would be able to use it to go and visit his childhood. He relished in the thought.

    NO! the universe screamed at him. He ignored it.

    His first stop would most likely be his high school, see the girl he had had a crush on again. And then after that, perhaps his college days. Visit where he had worked as a custodian for a year while studying to become a technician. 

    You don't understand-Time wants to move on-I want to move past this moment- the universe tried its best to get James to realize his mistake, but he was too giddy to realize something was horribly, terribly wrong.

    But before his high school, and his college, and any of that past-James stuff, he would need to do a smaller test run. Just to see if it would even work. About one minute or two into the past would do, he decided. He flipped some switches and calibrated the energy flow.

    Standing triumphant, James stood on the platform and held the button in his hand that would run the machine. The whole universe would go back in time, resetting everything to earlier.

    That's the thing! Your memories of this happening! They will also be- but the universe didn't get a chance to finish before James hit the button. Time jumped back exactly 87.38 seconds. . . .

    James smiled and raised a glass of champagne to himself. He was finally done!

    Alone in his office late at night, he drank down the glass and set it down on his desk. Proudly he looked at his creation: a large metal modem, about the size of a large car. Wires of all different colors ran across the outside of it, sometimes haphazardly, sometimes nice and ordered. He had worked hard for over a decade on this machine, a machine that was able to turn time backwards.

    Soon, he would be able to use it to go and visit his childhood. 

    He relished in the thought.


BONUS STORY

    It was a dark night in October, and two old friends were talking outside the bar, smoking their cigarettes. 

    "Have I ever told you of the Darkness Man?" one asks his friend.

    A chill runs through the air. "No, you haven't."

    "He, or it, is the most terrifying monster in all creation. It can grant you one wish-but at a cost. The trick is knowing how to summon it."

    "And how do you do that?" 

    "Aye, for that you need to wait for a full moon. Then you must wait until midnight, stand in front of a mirror, and chant its name three times."

    "Okay."

    "And after each time you say its name, you must turn around once. Clockwise, then counter clockwise, and then counterclockwise again."

    "Sure."

    "After you've said its name, turned, said its name again, turned, and then said it a third time and turned, you must balance on one foot, and repeat the sacred mantra: 'Oh please don't take my life, I simply ask for a wish.' Then, you must hop to the other foot. Then you have to say its name backwards eight times, all while closing your non-dominant eye."

    "Uh, sure."

    "Now here's the important part-after you said its name eight times backwards, you must state what your wish is, but it has to be in iambic pentameter. If your wish is any longer than the length of a Shakespearean sonnet, then you have to do this on a Tuesday. Otherwise, any Wednesday, Friday, Saturday, or Monday will work, unless it's the first Monday of the month, in which case you'll need a live chicken."

    " . . . "

    "Ok, so once you've stated your wish, you have to be sure that you don't get your soul sucked out. Which is why doing so in front of a mirror is so important, because if things get out of hand you can always call on Bloody Mary or Candyman to come help you out. Just summon one though, otherwise Bloody Mary and Candyman will end up fighting each other instead of holding back the Darkness Man. Also, having a tophat may be helpful with this next part, because you have to pin it down. Depending on the day of the month you'll need a different hue. If the day is divisible by 6 or 8, then you'll definitely want a purple tophat, although if it looks too blue than you're out of luck. It also helps to do this 5.7 meters away from an ancient Indian burial ground, especially if someone by the name of Flying Bird is buried there, although that always isn't a requirement."

    "Hey, uh, I just realized I have to go..." The man began to inch away slowly.

    "Okay, so if you can't find an ancient Indian Burial ground nearby, that's fine, but only if your first name starts with the letters A-H. Last names may count too, but only if your mother happened to be the second child and you the first. Otherwise your great-great-grandfather on your dad's side should have immigrated from a foreign country. Now, the Darkness Man usually doesn't try to attack people who have a middle name with a prime-number number of letters in it, but-"

    But by that time he was alone, talking to himself.


Saturday, October 19, 2024

Two game mechanic ideas I've had

Ok, so I had this idea for a mechanic. You know how in Settlers of Catan you have 5 basic things you can build? Well, what if those building costs were asymmetric? Or even the things you can build were asymmetric? Or what if there were tiles with additional stuff you could build or do, and those tiles could be purchased? So I could on one turn buy the tile that would allow me to construct different things for the rest of the game, (like trebuchets or moats or something, I don't know), and only I could build those things, and there would be a lot of different tiles. So each game would be vastly different because you could get different tiles allowing you to build different structures which could change your strategy completely. 

If anyone is reading this, feel free to steal this idea.

Another idea I had while in Walmart earlier today. I saw a self-contained little Risk card game thing, here let me just find a picture...



Okay, so I saw this and at first I didn't know it was a full game itself, I thought it was an expansion pack thing for the game of Risk. So my idea is little expansion packs for staple Ameritrash games. Bored of Clue? Go to Walmart and pick up an expansion box thing that gives you new ways to play, not just like extra characters or extra weapons and stuff like that, but like a COMPLETELY NEW way to play. Turn it into more of a Betrayal at House on the Hill kind of game, or Scotland Yard, or something crazy and different like that. Give your old Monopoly games you never play new life. Turn your The Game of Life into a MaioKart racing game. I think it'd be a cool idea to have these little expansion pack things for a lot of the classics.

Anyway, those are my two game mechanic ideas I've been thinking about.

Monday, October 7, 2024

Talking, Pottery, and anachronisms

 I talked to my brother Eric for an hour and a half tonight. It was awesome.

Also, a few posts ago I mentioned something about quality and quantity. 

From https://plan.io/blog/why-quantity-beats-and-creates-quality/#:~:text=When%20the%20teacher%20scored%20all,churned%20out%20and%20learned%20from.:

 A great story about the effects of the quantity mindset is in the book Art and Fear. The story concerns a ceramics teacher, who split their class in two groups. One group was graded on the pure quantity of work they produced, simply by weighing each of their pots when the class was over. 50 pounds of pots would earn the student an A, 40 pounds a B, and so on.

The other half of the class was scored on quality. They were only tasked with making a single pot, but it had to be perfect for them to earn an A. When the teacher scored all the pottery, guess which group produced the best pots? The group that made more.

The more pots they created, the more mistakes they made, and the more they learned. By the end of the class, they were creating high-quality pots, due to all the quantity they'd churned out and learned from.

In other words, quantity produces quality.

OK, I'm tired and going to bed.

Speaking of OK, did you know the term OK was only created in 1839?

And the word "Hello" with that spelling only started becoming common in 1826?

In other words, in every single piece of literature or movie or anything that takes place before 1826 or 1839, and you hear them say "OK" or "Hello" you know it's an anachronism. Mind=Blown


Monday, April 15, 2024

My childhood was ruined

And yours will be too.

[I originally had a YouTUbe clip up here but then YouTube removed it, or the uploader removed it, point is is that it no longer exists so I just deleted the link from my page. It was a mix-up of Simon and Garfunkel singing Baby Got Back.]

 

Sunday, March 31, 2024

Consuming is easier than Producing

Consuming is a lot easier than producing. Right? Because I can read an entire book in less time than it takes me to write an entire book, even if my book is half the size. I can eat a meal quicker than I can make it. I can play a game faster than I can design it.

Producing is just hard. Okay, so it takes a lot more time, right? But is that the only reason it's hard? Like, watching a 20 second shot and filming a 20 second shot are both 20 seconds, but there's so much more to producing than just recording it down. I need to storyboard it, get costumes, actors, cameras, and a bunch of other stuff before I even film the scene. Then I have to record the same scene dozens of times. Then there's the editing process, sound effects, and, unless you're Christopher Nolan, GCI effects to add.

All of thise individual pieces take time, and it adds up. I think it's more than just the fact that it takes longer though. Well, if you want to make quality content. There's an episode of Monk (Mr. Monk Gets Married) where a person hides gold by melting it down and mixing it with ink, then writes in books to use the ink/gold, hiding the gold. That's a LOT of ink to get rid of, and a LOT of writing. So he just writes down random stuff. "June 12, 1856. Raining all morning. I had beef jerky for breakfast. There's a cloud in the sky that resembles President Pierce. This chair is squeaking. Something smells good. I love smoking 'tobaccy.' I just sneezed."

Anyone can write quantity, but it's quality that we're after. And, with the exception of Brandon Sanderson, people can't just write quality all of the time. They need to go back and re-write and revise and rework. I think that here is where the difficulty arises. When I produce, I want it to be quality stuff, not just a bunch of quantity. 

And so I think that that's the reason why producing is hard. Of course, I've heard people say that to get quality stuff you need a lot of quantity. Pretty sure I've heard that somewhere.



Sunday, March 17, 2024

The post where I use speech to text to write everything.

So my Spring break is 2 weeks for the wine district. Last speaker was the first one and the seventh coming record will be the second 1. Because I'm a school teacher with a low-income. I decided to use these 2 weeks to work extra to make some extra money last week. I worked for.  Edible arrangements as a delivery driver in the subkind week. I'm going to be working as a substitute. Teacher for districts up near Phoenix, which are still on session next week.

Right now I'm using speech to text to write this on my pbone. I'm at my mother-in-law's house lying down on the couch and I thought I would write a blog post but I am too tired to actually type out all the words. So I thought that this would be a good way to get some ideas and thoughts out.

 Even though this speech to text messages up some words.  And the punctuation isn't the was just leave it as it is because AI think it's funny. It would be too much work for me right now to Go back and fix it.

You know, it stinks, as I just set out loud about 2 paragraphs worth of stuff, but my system wasn't recording it. It all so I have to go back and re-record it. My wife and I went out for a date last night and saw Kung Fu Panda 4. It was pretty good although it was sad that the fierce 5 wasn't in it. Maybe because I didn't want to pay the voice actors because it would be too expensive.  I know Angelina Jolie voices, tigress, Jackie Chan voices, monkey and Seth Rogen voices don't kick on. Oh I mean mantis, i don't know who voices crate and Viper. 

I'm doing Italian honduolingo and I have a 55 days straight right now. What won't?

I'm so tired because my little baby Kerry keeps waking up in the middle of the night and crying and I try to comfort her and then she falls asleep, but when I try to put her back in her crab she wakes up again and I'm trying to help how do I get some sleep? Anyway, I just really wish the cure. I would get some more sleep and actually sleep in the balls and nights stuff crying.  I'm tired.

Well, this was pretty interesting to see if the AI system doing speech to text was able to figure out everything I was saying and it looks like it was not, but Hey adds a little bit of humor to the text to the post, doesn't it?



Sunday, March 10, 2024

We don't talk about Bruno. But why?

No no no, we don't talk about Bruno. But-

Okay, like, one major plot point in Encanto is when Mirabel finds the prophecy and her dad finds it, Dolores overhears. And because of her nature she can't help but tell everyone she can. Fine. Whatever. I can buy that. But then near the end of the film, Dolores, the one that can't keep a secret, is all like, Yeah I heard Bruno every day and never told anyone, it leaves you questioning. So can she or can't she keep a secret? 

And Bruno was literally just living in the walls of the house the entire time? Can the house keep a secret then, because casa surely knew, right? 

Anyway. Wait, could Bruno hear everyone singing about him? And why don't they want to talk about him? Because they thought he was evil? Heck, we think Hitler is evil but we still talk about him. The only evil guy that people don't like talking about is Volde- uh, I mean he-who-must-not-be-named. So why don't they talk about Bruno? Because they are ashamed that they ostracized him from society by judging him too harshly? 

By the way, totally head cannon, but I think that Bruno is Alberto's (Luca's friend in Luca) father. Green eyes? The time periods match up? Alberto uses the phrase "Silencio Bruno"? Coincidence? I think not!