I said that more people would help contribute to this blog, and now I have actual proof. Her name is Megan Lewis, and she shall soon post some of her own stories. That's all.
Gets up and leaves without any signs of physical affection,
That's Aila Jones!
Monday, August 19, 2013
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
The Ultimate Adventure: The Viking Cashier and his Taxidermy Shop
Though a bit odd, nobody had ever questioned
Jeffrey the Totally Lame Vampire Slayer's collection of labeled fanny packs. He
always wore 3 at all times, and his most worn ones were labeled as follows:
"illegal presidential substances", "colorful marbles", and
"Aila Excellence's baked goods". Each fanny pack was gingerly
adjusted around his hips, appearing to be an extra bulbous brightly patterned
buttock. He reached into his baked goods-filled pouch and grabbed
miniature chocolate pie and chewed slowly as the group watched patiently.
"To the taxidermy shop!" he announced.
Everyone struck a pose and leapt outside the door in a nearly blinding flash,
only being able to hear the cry of death for a mere second.
They materialized before the entrance of the
shop, allowing Miss Jenna-sen to push the door open. As they all stepped in,
the posse's hearing orifices were blessed by a recorded moo.
"Don't worry- he's dead now!" the Viking clerk chuckled.
"In fact, that's the original inspiration for our motto: 'If you don't
like what you hear, it can die with our will.' Great motto, don't you
think?" he said, twisting his godlike facial hair proudly. He knew that
anyone with the honor to see him would be jealous. Foresight, however, is not a
Viking's strongest attribute, as the Viking cashier didn't realize that his
glamorous locks would eventually decay to a glabrous head of nothingness; his
once melatonin-dripping beard would be like white straw.
“No, that sounds like a terrible motto, actually. Were you oxygen
deprived at birth or something?” Abraham Lincoln said, envious of the dramatic
difference in hair quality between the two men.
“Nope!” chuckled the Viking clerk. “By the power of Thor’s hammer, I
turned out pretty fabulous.” he said. “Are you ready to hand over the body?”
Miss Jenna-sen nodded solemnly and passed along various parts of Jay’s body to
the cashier in an orderly fashion rivaled by none.
The Viking clerk silently measured Jay’s former appendages and suddenly
grabbed them in his muscular arms.
“BY THE POWER OF ODIN’S BEARD, TAXIDERMIZE THIS BOY! LET HIS BODY ACHIEVE THE EXCELLENCE OF THE FAMOUS TPD!” he shouted at the top of his manly lungs. Lightning struck through the patched roof and sent electric shivers through the posse. The Norse god Odin let out a booming laugh.
“BY THE POWER OF ODIN’S BEARD, TAXIDERMIZE THIS BOY! LET HIS BODY ACHIEVE THE EXCELLENCE OF THE FAMOUS TPD!” he shouted at the top of his manly lungs. Lightning struck through the patched roof and sent electric shivers through the posse. The Norse god Odin let out a booming laugh.
“Ha, that’s a pretty funny notion now, huh? That Jay seems a bit lame,
but he’s with you guys, so I won’t pick on him too much.” he snickered. “Ah,
whatever. I’ll get my crew to taxidermize him,” he conceded condescendingly.
Odin cracked his bulging knuckles and aimed his ring finger at Jay’s remains
with his remaining eye fiercely concentrated. Skeins of string, body bags full
of stuffing, and his forest animal buddies burst from his draupnir explosively.
Twirling around Jay’s body parts in the air rhythmically, Odin and his
funky-fresh friends sewed an excellently stuffed Jay together while humming
violent rap songs. The group applauded and appreciated the Norse god’s freshly
taxidermized Jay. Jay looked at his new body and fainted in the Viking clerk's wonderfully manly arms.
“Almost like the real thing!” squealed Aila.
“It is the real thing, stupid.” scoffed Jeffrey the Totally Lame Vampire
Slayer.
“Nah, he looks cooler,” she said, unwilling to believe.
“What are you talking about? Only Odin and the Viking dude know the secret of the taxidermized ones." Emma said anxiously. The Viking exchanged proud looks with Odin and fist bumped.
"Yep, you just can't compete with us! You're practically unworthy." Odin declared pompously. The mysterious pie nearly snapped under his crust with fury.
"She's NOT UNWORTHY, Nordic fools! She is perfect in every way and we'll have cupcake children that you will totally envy." he roared as only a pie could. The crowd around him gasped, shocked, and searching for Emma's reaction in her paled face. She bent down stiffly under everyone's watch and picked up one of Odin's dutiful bunnies, only to bite its snow white ears off and guzzle its bunny blood.
"What? It's just how I deal with stress!" she screamed.
Peanut Butter and Jelly,
Aila "Ole Middle Name" Jones
"Yep, you just can't compete with us! You're practically unworthy." Odin declared pompously. The mysterious pie nearly snapped under his crust with fury.
"She's NOT UNWORTHY, Nordic fools! She is perfect in every way and we'll have cupcake children that you will totally envy." he roared as only a pie could. The crowd around him gasped, shocked, and searching for Emma's reaction in her paled face. She bent down stiffly under everyone's watch and picked up one of Odin's dutiful bunnies, only to bite its snow white ears off and guzzle its bunny blood.
"What? It's just how I deal with stress!" she screamed.
Peanut Butter and Jelly,
Aila "Ole Middle Name" Jones
Monday, August 12, 2013
A Non-Canonical Short Story: The Monster Under the Bed
The warm night's breeze passed through the window of Billy's room, startling him for the third time that night. Moonlight bathed him in an incandescent glow, further paling his ashy face. Billy would have truly feared for the slightest noises and sense that evil was in the air, except he was too self-aware of his neurotic behavior to even feel emotionally connected to his phobic psyche. His parents were higher on the corporate ladder than most of his schoolmates and his mother gave birth to him in her mid-thirties, yet young Billy knew that they were just as insensitive as the unplanned parents in the sub-division of his affluent neighborhood. Still, he tried his hardest to be the best student in the fourth grade, he was in Little League baseball, he had his assigned friends. Teachers, and mostly every other sort of adult accepted him as the quiet boy who did his homework. His schoolmates and chosen friends accepted him as the necessary friend, the one who would always bring the most expensive birthday present. Billy felt comfortable knowing his friends would never betray him, so he pretended to fear the made-up monsters inside his control. They had long fangs and scaly skin covering their broad body, so he wouldn't fear a particular animal, he thought. Or perhaps they could be slinky, furry creatures who had horns all over their body and beady reptilian eyes. Billy shuddered at the thought merely to brainwash himself to feel like a normal child, one who had doting, monster-slaying parents. A perfect pair who wished him sweet dreams with a kiss on the head at night, they would have named him something other than Billy, he thought resentfully in his linen-sheeted bed.
Billy sighed, and made his decision. "Tonight", he decided rebelliously, "It would be important to test them and see whether or not they can really be my rightful parents. If not, I'll run away." Billy stepped off from his soft bed and sneered at the trophy-adorned room his parents crafted. "It's only ever about them, anyways." he decided. Billy grabbed a fistful of his expensive sheets that his parents paid egregiously for and brought himself to throw them across the room. His face, now embalmed in his newfound power and once nervous sweat took on a different glow in the moonlight. He confidently left the mussed sheets on the freshly waxed floor and nearly punched the door open. Billy took galloping strides through the long hallway, suppressing any childlike urges to giggle. He stopped before his parents' room, not hesitating to knock for more than a second of his life.
"What is it now?" he heard his father boom impatiently, rushing to the door. Billy felt a surge of glee for being acknowledged by his authority figure, his misguided idol. His father opened the door too soon but it was too late for him to realize that he didn't have his mask on. Billy gaped at the monster of his carefully censored dreams, and started to scream, but it was too late. The monster that was his father had used his strong teeth on his son's small body and crushed Billy's spine on the way down his strong esophagus.
Billy sighed, and made his decision. "Tonight", he decided rebelliously, "It would be important to test them and see whether or not they can really be my rightful parents. If not, I'll run away." Billy stepped off from his soft bed and sneered at the trophy-adorned room his parents crafted. "It's only ever about them, anyways." he decided. Billy grabbed a fistful of his expensive sheets that his parents paid egregiously for and brought himself to throw them across the room. His face, now embalmed in his newfound power and once nervous sweat took on a different glow in the moonlight. He confidently left the mussed sheets on the freshly waxed floor and nearly punched the door open. Billy took galloping strides through the long hallway, suppressing any childlike urges to giggle. He stopped before his parents' room, not hesitating to knock for more than a second of his life.
"What is it now?" he heard his father boom impatiently, rushing to the door. Billy felt a surge of glee for being acknowledged by his authority figure, his misguided idol. His father opened the door too soon but it was too late for him to realize that he didn't have his mask on. Billy gaped at the monster of his carefully censored dreams, and started to scream, but it was too late. The monster that was his father had used his strong teeth on his son's small body and crushed Billy's spine on the way down his strong esophagus.
Saturday, July 20, 2013
The Ultimate Adventure: The Street of Oddities
Peering down the skinny winding street, the troupe noticed that the sidewalk at the end of the block ended in a high cliff, with one of the shops precariously dangling off the side. Each of the buildings seemed to be too big or too small next to any ordinary human, but it was homey to those who favored a different lifestyle than what a normal society could provide. One of the fashionable clothing shops was shaped like a man shot by 43 bullets, but offered high quality selections. A satanic temple offered reversed exorcisms, but all the group noticed was the friendly man waving. The taxidermy shop was a bit small and decorated like a Norse lumberjack's cabin. An IHOP brightened up the streets, but the real source of metaphorical sustenance was the Hello Kitty store.
"Let's go to the Hello Kitty store!" said Aila Excellence hopefully.
"No. We're on a mission to re-ressurect Abraham Lincoln, taxidermize Jay's remains, and eat a seasonally themed brunch." declared Emma Jenna-sen.
"Hooray for warped homeopathic treatments, if absolutely nothing else." whispered the mysteriously tasty pie gloomily.
The posse entered their cult's headquarters and were greeted by the cry of death, as the owners despised boring door jingles.
"What a charming touch!" complimented Miss Jenna-sen.
"Thank you." said a kind hooded figure with a Hello Kitty necklace. He had chosen it himself.
Looking around, the walls were painted in blood, but the floors were clean and polished. The mysterious pie tingled with apathetic delight. Candles flickered around the floors, illuminating the main room delicately. Repetitions of Mariah Carey's greatest hits could be heard against the heavy breathing of the newly reanimated in the back room. Black magic could have been in the air, but the candlelight was too dim to tell.
The hooded figure tugged on his sweatshirt strings.
"So, where are the remains?" he asked politely. Emma Jenna-sen pulled out what was left from the combustion of the 16th American president. The man smiled in acceptance and went into the secret room with the mutilated pieces. Jeffrey rolled his eyes impatiently. Emma thought about her IHOP order. Aila considered whose blood was on the walls and whether it would be safe to lick it. The pie thought of its undying love for Emma.
Suddenly, Abraham Lincoln's revitalized body sprung out from the trap door on the ceiling.
"Ahoy, comrades! I'm back from the dead and better than ever!"he exclaimed with inexplicable glee. Another hooded figure leaned over to the group and whispered nervously,
"Make sure that he gets injected with this every few hours, and he'll be just fine." The young woman passed Jeffrey a syringe and bottle of Mariah Carey perfume. Raising his eyebrows, Jeffrey slipped it into one of his suspicious fanny packs labeled "illegal presidential substances" in dainty blue cursive.
"Let's go to the Hello Kitty store!" said Aila Excellence hopefully.
"No. We're on a mission to re-ressurect Abraham Lincoln, taxidermize Jay's remains, and eat a seasonally themed brunch." declared Emma Jenna-sen.
"Hooray for warped homeopathic treatments, if absolutely nothing else." whispered the mysteriously tasty pie gloomily.
The posse entered their cult's headquarters and were greeted by the cry of death, as the owners despised boring door jingles.
"What a charming touch!" complimented Miss Jenna-sen.
"Thank you." said a kind hooded figure with a Hello Kitty necklace. He had chosen it himself.
Looking around, the walls were painted in blood, but the floors were clean and polished. The mysterious pie tingled with apathetic delight. Candles flickered around the floors, illuminating the main room delicately. Repetitions of Mariah Carey's greatest hits could be heard against the heavy breathing of the newly reanimated in the back room. Black magic could have been in the air, but the candlelight was too dim to tell.
The hooded figure tugged on his sweatshirt strings.
"So, where are the remains?" he asked politely. Emma Jenna-sen pulled out what was left from the combustion of the 16th American president. The man smiled in acceptance and went into the secret room with the mutilated pieces. Jeffrey rolled his eyes impatiently. Emma thought about her IHOP order. Aila considered whose blood was on the walls and whether it would be safe to lick it. The pie thought of its undying love for Emma.
Suddenly, Abraham Lincoln's revitalized body sprung out from the trap door on the ceiling.
"Ahoy, comrades! I'm back from the dead and better than ever!"he exclaimed with inexplicable glee. Another hooded figure leaned over to the group and whispered nervously,
"Make sure that he gets injected with this every few hours, and he'll be just fine." The young woman passed Jeffrey a syringe and bottle of Mariah Carey perfume. Raising his eyebrows, Jeffrey slipped it into one of his suspicious fanny packs labeled "illegal presidential substances" in dainty blue cursive.
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
The Ultimate Adventure: The Battle of 2 Equal Evils Comes to an End
A little known fact about the United States of America's 16th president, Abraham Lincoln, is that he adored puppets more than nearly anything else in the war. In fact, he threw his "Team Jeffrey the Totally Lame Vampire Slayer" shirt to the ground and whipped on his much smaller "Team Jay" shirt because puppets are hardcore.
Despite Jeffrey's lack of presidential praise, the mysterious pie refused to give up on his lifelong idol. He tastily cheered him on by staying in his place and not doing anything. Jeffrey the Totally Lame Vampire Slayer felt motivated instantly and swiftly bludgeoned Jay to his demise.
Blood gushed from every part of his body despite the injury's occurrence being found at Jay's head. Emma Jenna-sen's eyes widened while Aila Excellence gasped. Without further warning than a wink, Abraham Lincoln clapped vigorously and spontaneously combusted into another dimension.
"Well, darn." said Emma Jenna-sen said. "Where did that cult go? Maybe we could get them to bring him back to life." she thought aloud.
"Great idea!" replied Aila and Jeffrey lyrically. Aila Excellence furrowed her brow a bit in thought.
"While we're there, can we get Jay taxidermized?" she asked.
"Sure", decided Emma. "the cult headquarters are next to the taxidermy shop, remember?" she reasoned. "To the unicorn!" they sang cheerfully.
The unicorn arrived from its portal and quacked sadly. Each member of the insanely cool group grabbed a limb and organ from Jay's bloody corpse, jumping into the portal and onto the odd street of magic and illusion they needed.
Hate and anarchy,
Aila Jones
Despite Jeffrey's lack of presidential praise, the mysterious pie refused to give up on his lifelong idol. He tastily cheered him on by staying in his place and not doing anything. Jeffrey the Totally Lame Vampire Slayer felt motivated instantly and swiftly bludgeoned Jay to his demise.
Blood gushed from every part of his body despite the injury's occurrence being found at Jay's head. Emma Jenna-sen's eyes widened while Aila Excellence gasped. Without further warning than a wink, Abraham Lincoln clapped vigorously and spontaneously combusted into another dimension.
"Well, darn." said Emma Jenna-sen said. "Where did that cult go? Maybe we could get them to bring him back to life." she thought aloud.
"Great idea!" replied Aila and Jeffrey lyrically. Aila Excellence furrowed her brow a bit in thought.
"While we're there, can we get Jay taxidermized?" she asked.
"Sure", decided Emma. "the cult headquarters are next to the taxidermy shop, remember?" she reasoned. "To the unicorn!" they sang cheerfully.
The unicorn arrived from its portal and quacked sadly. Each member of the insanely cool group grabbed a limb and organ from Jay's bloody corpse, jumping into the portal and onto the odd street of magic and illusion they needed.
Hate and anarchy,
Aila Jones
Friday, June 28, 2013
The Ultimate Adventure: The Battle of 2 Equal Evils Part 1
Miss Jenna-sen had gotten the memo that a battle was about to begin and even considered telling Jay. The only factor in her decision making process that she remembered one of his passing statements.
"I love surprises. Do you? Would it surprise you to be the mother to my children? Will you love me?" Jay pleaded with her sassy hand after she left him hanging in the middle of his rant, declaring his unrequited love for her, of course.
Besides, Miss Jenna-sen figured that surprise duels were significantly cooler than planned ones. Jay sat in the hairspray company's second most comfortable chair in front of the elusive Miss Jenna-sen and her desk. Jay goggled at the desk's name plaque, shocked.
"Your first name is Emma?" he inquired loudly. "Why, if you were being written about as the nearly titular heroine of an unimportant story, this would totally add onto the viable pronoun choices previously available!" Emma rolled her eyes slightly, but patiently waited for the battle to begin in the most comfortable chair known to corporate hair product companies everywhere. Jay fidgeted in his lesser chair and fiddled within the pockets of his stiff khaki short pockets. Why couldn't human interaction be as simple as pants, he wondered.
Suddenly, Jeffrey the Totally Lame Vampire Slayer and his hip posse materialized.
"Mazel Tov to me today indeed, tasty Hasidic fortune cookie." he exclaimed Jewishly. "I challenge you to a duel, for the fair and lovely Emma Jenna-sen!"
"Yay! I'm appreciated!" blurted she.
Aila sadly curled up in a ball with her taxidermized sloth, feeling as lowly as a female rejected by romantic heroine standards could. Only a god could heal her mended spirit. Aila Excellence felt supremely cheated out of her role as a second loveliest tritagonist. Even the pie was preferred, she wept to herself.
"Love me forever, Miss Emma!" shouted both sociopaths in unison. Emma Jenna-sen simply laughed and announced clearly, "Begin!"
Jeffrey, though a "Totally Lame Vampire Slayer" by name, turned out to be horrible at wielding a femininely decorated axe. Jay, however, turned out to be unusually talented at throwing empty cans of hairspray at rapid fire. By the time Jeffrey realized that axes are meant to be held by the handle, his hands were covered in his own green Vulcan blood. Jay cruelly laughed at his opponent's foolish mistake, secretly pleased with his own changing voice. He decided that he needed more weapons, so he swiftly decapitated a quivering employee from the corner of Emma's office and ripped off the man's ugly nose before pelting it at Jeffrey's eyelid. Thrown off, Jeffrey the Totally Lame Vampire Slayer cursed by Odin's beard and tried to summon help in a futile act of lame-ness. Suddenly, Abraham Lincoln leaped out of a suspicious portal with a vampire corpse over his long arms.
"Jeffrey the Totally Lame Vampire Slayer! I have come to assist you because you are less lame than Jay!" announced the somehow living historical figure.
"I resent that statement!", Jay made a freshly murdered victim say through ventriloquy. In the short time between Jeffrey's plea and the former president's second most important proclamation, Jay mastered the art of making puppets out of fresh cadavers.
Meat Puppets and Hasidic Fortune Cookies,
Aila Jones
"I love surprises. Do you? Would it surprise you to be the mother to my children? Will you love me?" Jay pleaded with her sassy hand after she left him hanging in the middle of his rant, declaring his unrequited love for her, of course.
Besides, Miss Jenna-sen figured that surprise duels were significantly cooler than planned ones. Jay sat in the hairspray company's second most comfortable chair in front of the elusive Miss Jenna-sen and her desk. Jay goggled at the desk's name plaque, shocked.
"Your first name is Emma?" he inquired loudly. "Why, if you were being written about as the nearly titular heroine of an unimportant story, this would totally add onto the viable pronoun choices previously available!" Emma rolled her eyes slightly, but patiently waited for the battle to begin in the most comfortable chair known to corporate hair product companies everywhere. Jay fidgeted in his lesser chair and fiddled within the pockets of his stiff khaki short pockets. Why couldn't human interaction be as simple as pants, he wondered.
Suddenly, Jeffrey the Totally Lame Vampire Slayer and his hip posse materialized.
"Mazel Tov to me today indeed, tasty Hasidic fortune cookie." he exclaimed Jewishly. "I challenge you to a duel, for the fair and lovely Emma Jenna-sen!"
"Yay! I'm appreciated!" blurted she.
Aila sadly curled up in a ball with her taxidermized sloth, feeling as lowly as a female rejected by romantic heroine standards could. Only a god could heal her mended spirit. Aila Excellence felt supremely cheated out of her role as a second loveliest tritagonist. Even the pie was preferred, she wept to herself.
"Love me forever, Miss Emma!" shouted both sociopaths in unison. Emma Jenna-sen simply laughed and announced clearly, "Begin!"
Jeffrey, though a "Totally Lame Vampire Slayer" by name, turned out to be horrible at wielding a femininely decorated axe. Jay, however, turned out to be unusually talented at throwing empty cans of hairspray at rapid fire. By the time Jeffrey realized that axes are meant to be held by the handle, his hands were covered in his own green Vulcan blood. Jay cruelly laughed at his opponent's foolish mistake, secretly pleased with his own changing voice. He decided that he needed more weapons, so he swiftly decapitated a quivering employee from the corner of Emma's office and ripped off the man's ugly nose before pelting it at Jeffrey's eyelid. Thrown off, Jeffrey the Totally Lame Vampire Slayer cursed by Odin's beard and tried to summon help in a futile act of lame-ness. Suddenly, Abraham Lincoln leaped out of a suspicious portal with a vampire corpse over his long arms.
"Jeffrey the Totally Lame Vampire Slayer! I have come to assist you because you are less lame than Jay!" announced the somehow living historical figure.
"I resent that statement!", Jay made a freshly murdered victim say through ventriloquy. In the short time between Jeffrey's plea and the former president's second most important proclamation, Jay mastered the art of making puppets out of fresh cadavers.
Meat Puppets and Hasidic Fortune Cookies,
Aila Jones
Sunday, June 23, 2013
The Ultimate Adventure: The Battle and its Combatants
Jeffrey the Totally Lame Vampire Slayer pulled his puny body from his pity chocolates and sad romantic movies. Wiping his flowing tears with flowery scented tissues, he made a crucial call.
"Hello? Are you calling for the mysterious pie?" answered Aila Excellence curiously. Jeffrey hesitated to wipe away his sadness for an awkward moment. Then he spoke, heartbroken.
"We shall bring the mysterious pie on our quest."
"Why would we quest now, if I may ask? Should I bring cookies? I don't believe this to be an actual quest, either. I'm guessing that Jay simply looked at Miss Jenna-sen more than you today."
"But... I like calling it a quest. It sounds less stupid. As for cookies, of course. They'll feed my empty soul." whined Jeffrey the Totally Lame Vampire Slayer uncharacteristically.
"He will relinquish, if you fight him to the death.", Aila conceded. "I'll be there soon with my famous chocolate chip cookies and a shiny axe, 'kay?" Aila Excellence hung up her sloth shaped phone with determination and a plan. She put on a sparkly pink sloth dress, matching 7 inch platform heels, and the snazziest cat eyes known to the gods. Holding onto her taxidermized pink sloth in her short arms, it was clear who was boss.
Jeffrey wore a boring shirt from Bermuda and clearly didn't mean business. And he was a combatant in the war against Jay, no less!
The pie of shrouded mystery teleported himself to Jeffrey's house somewhat creepily. Enthralled by the mere sight of an unemotional teenager in an old Bermuda shirt and ratty jeans, the pie felt terribly motivated to cheer on Jeffrey the Totally Lame Vampire Slayer. Everyone was ready for the impending battle except Jay and his taxidermized monkey.
I apologize for being AWOL for so long, and beg your forgiveness.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hug and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kiss
Aila Jones
P.S. I wonder why the entry on kissing is so much longer...
"Hello? Are you calling for the mysterious pie?" answered Aila Excellence curiously. Jeffrey hesitated to wipe away his sadness for an awkward moment. Then he spoke, heartbroken.
"We shall bring the mysterious pie on our quest."
"Why would we quest now, if I may ask? Should I bring cookies? I don't believe this to be an actual quest, either. I'm guessing that Jay simply looked at Miss Jenna-sen more than you today."
"But... I like calling it a quest. It sounds less stupid. As for cookies, of course. They'll feed my empty soul." whined Jeffrey the Totally Lame Vampire Slayer uncharacteristically.
"He will relinquish, if you fight him to the death.", Aila conceded. "I'll be there soon with my famous chocolate chip cookies and a shiny axe, 'kay?" Aila Excellence hung up her sloth shaped phone with determination and a plan. She put on a sparkly pink sloth dress, matching 7 inch platform heels, and the snazziest cat eyes known to the gods. Holding onto her taxidermized pink sloth in her short arms, it was clear who was boss.
Jeffrey wore a boring shirt from Bermuda and clearly didn't mean business. And he was a combatant in the war against Jay, no less!
The pie of shrouded mystery teleported himself to Jeffrey's house somewhat creepily. Enthralled by the mere sight of an unemotional teenager in an old Bermuda shirt and ratty jeans, the pie felt terribly motivated to cheer on Jeffrey the Totally Lame Vampire Slayer. Everyone was ready for the impending battle except Jay and his taxidermized monkey.
I apologize for being AWOL for so long, and beg your forgiveness.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hug and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kiss
Aila Jones
P.S. I wonder why the entry on kissing is so much longer...
Sunday, June 16, 2013
The Ultimate Adventure: An Important First Chapter
As the extraordinary Miss
Jenna-sen woke up from her extra ordinary bed, she sleepily wondered about the
other pivotal characters’ morning routines. Jeffrey the Totally Lame Vampire
Slayer was most likely still sleeping with his taxidermized lover at his side,
because apathy and passive aggression require a lot of energy. Aila Excellence
was awake since dawn, baking cookies for her sloth roommates and groveling
minions, as everyone knew. Miss Jenna-sen decided that she too would show
ambition to the world, artistically, of course! After a wholesome breakfast of
oatmeal and acknowledgement of her family through hugging, she mounted her
teleporting unicorn.
“Onwards, my magical mode of
transport!” she cried as triumphantly as one who possesses a unicorn might. The
mystical unicorn mooed loudly and drew a circle with its horn, creating the
portal Miss Jenna-sen knew would lead to her destination. With a deep inhale
and jutted shoulder, the girl grabbed her taxidermized spirit animal and threw
herself through herself through the portal and tumbled onto a flying carpet floating
before a suburban house’s window. Peering into the glass panes, she knew her
destiny at once. With clear effort, Miss Jenna-sen threw a toupéed and
taxidermized eagle through Jeffrey’s bedroom window, scarring his soul
permanently. Jeffrey’s taxidermized pink dolphin lover awoke with him, jealous
of the new member in his bed party. With obvious anger, TPD proclaimed their
need for separation. Helpless Jeffrey just responded by crying for a few hours
and sunk to uncharted levels of depression.
Meanwhile, Jay had somehow
overthrown Miss Jenna-sen’s hairspray company in search for her elusive spirit.
(In case, you were wondering, Jay’s Taxidermized Spirit Animal is a baby
chimpanzee with a loose eyeball, fez, and a matching cape.) The hairspray
company called for Miss Jenna-sen immediately, knowing of her excellent unicorn
pal. As she arrived at the headquarters, Miss Jenna-sen couldn’t have expected
Jay to be waiting for her arrival, donning a newly stiffened hairdo.
But expecting the unexpected
was her specialty.
“Why, Miss Jenna-sen! What a
pleasant surprise!” Jay exclaimed loudly. Embarrassed, he cleared his throat.
“I secretly am desperately in love with you, by the way.” He tacked on too softly
and creepily.
“Oh, hello Jay! I didn’t
notice you were here, possibly due to your Indian descent and unassuming
sociopathic nature.” Miss Jenna-sen said. Jay uncomfortably doubted his
parents’ numerous monotonous repetitions of “Don’t worry, women love call
center guys.” It may have been unbeknownst to Miss Jenna-sen; but the
mysterious pie, Jay, and Jeffrey were all madly in love with her.
Jay cleared his head as he
tried to deny his severe depression. He tried to concentrate on something else
but couldn’t help but think, “She will be mine. Oh yes, she will be mine. But
how? I know- I’ll murder Jeffrey in his sleep!” Jay laughed cruelly for a few
seconds before reaching for his asthma inhaler. Taking slow deep breaths
through his pink sparkly flowered inhaler, he regretted his puny giggles and
quickly nursed himself to health. This incident and many others only enforced
the well-known fact that he had no foresight, despite his many puny protests.
After all, it would be expected that a vampire slayer would be difficult to
kill. Besides that, Jay also lacked general self-awareness, or else he would
have realized that when he concocted evil plots, he stared creepily into Miss
Jenna-sen’s eyes. She didn’t take it personally because she banished him to the
patronizing friend/acquaintance zone. At that moment, Jeffrey the Totally Lame
Vampire Slayer detected a nefarious thought from Jay- a lady stealing thought!
Evil hand rubs and mustache twiddling,
Aila
Thursday, June 13, 2013
The Ultimate Adventure: A Dramatic Prelude
To an apathetic (yet somehow alive) and mysteriously tasty pie, staring upon the surface of walls can invoke feelings. This pie registered slight emotion from watching flecks of paint spin to the dull and boring floor because he aspired to be just like his idol- Jeffrey the Totally Lame Vampire Slayer, this story's deuteragonist.
"So who is the protagonist?", one might ask. "Is it the pie?", yearns another.
These are bad questions. The true question is, "Who or what is the antagonist?" Without further ado, I will describe our adversary with as much pure innocence as I still have. Imagine a boy in an eternal awkward phase, an unhip purple vest, and an oddly positioned leather cape given to him by a schizophrenic hobo. He has wire glasses and Indian parents who call him Jay. Jay's previous crimes had never been as heinous as his latest hatchery: to kidnap and provide an unfulfilling marriage for the highly anticipated heroine! She is Miss Jenna-sen, double spy for Abraham Lincoln and a hairspray company. Though she knew a lot about Jay, she assumed little of him simply because of three "quirks": his ill-fitting purple vest collection, his incapability of beating her in chess, and his quietly sociopathic lifestyle. Surprisingly, Miss Jenna-sen had always had a secret fetish for capes that only a rival hairspray company knows. Somehow, Jay was lucky the day that the old hobo felt pity on him that memorable August day.
The daring and possibly true story of these characters (and more) will be posted soon, so grab your favorite anthropomorphic and animate taxidermized animal, for an adventure starting!
3 AM Cookies and cultish bro-hugs,
Aila Jones
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Dear Everyone...
Hello everyone! How lovely of you to join me across the screen of a computer or mobile device on this day. Is everyone here yet?
I hope so.
Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Aila Jones. I have an "about" page that can't tell you much about me at all. Read it as you may, I believe that the best way to learn about a person is through their outlet. See, I enjoy writing quite a bit. It's fun to play pretend inside your head, let it out quietly, and have friends to play pretend along with me. Is that really writing? I think so.
Imagination is what made me want to start this letter filled mess, but I have to be more mature about my foolish and fervent thoughts. Somehow, writing is considered a more sophisticated way of blurting out nonsense as long as I abide to the chains of grammar and punctuation. Yet lack of imagination can end both careers that stem from nonsense: Childhood and Professional Writing.
When I write, characters become real to me. Whether they are rabidly insane or clueless about life, I create a plan for them. Somehow, I lose my focus to a monster made of lists that bellows for canonical rhythm. And then we dance, swaying to avoid plot holes and sinkholes caused by procrastination. Our turns are terribly clumsy, and before I realize it my monster makes up an excuse so that we can meet again. I giddily write another chapter before facing it again, only to remember the lowest lows of my abusive relationship again. Though the peaks are high and carefree, I actually enjoy the pressure set upon me by the monster. It gives me a bit of inspiration, and sometimes allows me to reference whatever I please. Being incredibly independent and fairly introverted, I feel like I've been given Harold's magic purple crayon and a dictionary. I really adore my metaphorical monster, despite the fact that it's akin to a stereotypical abusive boyfriend.
Writing releases my thoughts but never really brings them back. It's hard for a fictional blind man to retrieve his boomerang. I write this because I throw boomerangs that quit. I'd work without feedback if only to hear a chuckle later on, but I haven't realized my boomerang boundaries yet. If anyone could give me help, I would be thrilled to begrudgingly accept. Comment about details you enjoyed and negative aspects. I want to hear the people like a 1950s Hollywood queen. I don't actually care for compliments, though. Please skip the regality and let me face reality instead. On a less dramatic note, thank you to any possible readers. I truly would appreciate any support and your suggestions to guest write. I especially love a particular friend's story about a character that created many others. Thank you, currently nameless one! I hope anyone that is reading this enjoys their stay, and can bring back my metaphorical boomerang or even restores the fictitious blind man's sight.
Thank you to all who can read and have a lovely day!
Awkward embraces and several back pats,
Aila Jones
I hope so.
Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Aila Jones. I have an "about" page that can't tell you much about me at all. Read it as you may, I believe that the best way to learn about a person is through their outlet. See, I enjoy writing quite a bit. It's fun to play pretend inside your head, let it out quietly, and have friends to play pretend along with me. Is that really writing? I think so.
Imagination is what made me want to start this letter filled mess, but I have to be more mature about my foolish and fervent thoughts. Somehow, writing is considered a more sophisticated way of blurting out nonsense as long as I abide to the chains of grammar and punctuation. Yet lack of imagination can end both careers that stem from nonsense: Childhood and Professional Writing.
When I write, characters become real to me. Whether they are rabidly insane or clueless about life, I create a plan for them. Somehow, I lose my focus to a monster made of lists that bellows for canonical rhythm. And then we dance, swaying to avoid plot holes and sinkholes caused by procrastination. Our turns are terribly clumsy, and before I realize it my monster makes up an excuse so that we can meet again. I giddily write another chapter before facing it again, only to remember the lowest lows of my abusive relationship again. Though the peaks are high and carefree, I actually enjoy the pressure set upon me by the monster. It gives me a bit of inspiration, and sometimes allows me to reference whatever I please. Being incredibly independent and fairly introverted, I feel like I've been given Harold's magic purple crayon and a dictionary. I really adore my metaphorical monster, despite the fact that it's akin to a stereotypical abusive boyfriend.
Writing releases my thoughts but never really brings them back. It's hard for a fictional blind man to retrieve his boomerang. I write this because I throw boomerangs that quit. I'd work without feedback if only to hear a chuckle later on, but I haven't realized my boomerang boundaries yet. If anyone could give me help, I would be thrilled to begrudgingly accept. Comment about details you enjoyed and negative aspects. I want to hear the people like a 1950s Hollywood queen. I don't actually care for compliments, though. Please skip the regality and let me face reality instead. On a less dramatic note, thank you to any possible readers. I truly would appreciate any support and your suggestions to guest write. I especially love a particular friend's story about a character that created many others. Thank you, currently nameless one! I hope anyone that is reading this enjoys their stay, and can bring back my metaphorical boomerang or even restores the fictitious blind man's sight.
Thank you to all who can read and have a lovely day!
Awkward embraces and several back pats,
Aila Jones
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