Well, here it is about 11:30íish, Iím not at all tired and Iíd prefer not to sleep right now. Lately, itís been hard to get me to do anything, which is why Anti-Chris has been around. Iím on an emotional roller coaster lately, and I wish I knew why. Going from Angry to Sad to Crazy all in the space of one day can wear a dude out. So, I decided my first goal in writing this would be to find my sense of humor. Been running amok lately. Next, I needed to find motivation. Seriously, huge problems finding things to actually care about. And then I needed to smack my left brain into consciousness, which it has been avoiding. Well, I found a bit of my humor and creativity, and as for the motivation, Iím still looking for that, and my left brain has left my right for insanity. But I thought, ah, what the hay, just write something. But what to write about? Should I write about whatís going on in my life? No, you people stay away from that. Should I write about my past. No, thatís been covered as much as Iíll allow. So, without further a du, the fictionalized account of my brown jacket:
My brown jacket isnít just any plain ordinary brown jacket. It was hand crafted by magicians and wenches in the far away country of Hatalana, knowing that I would one day possess its power. For in one of the many globes of ages, they saw a boy, a boy who didnít like how jackets felt. Naturally, since this boy was going to grow up a skilled warrior, they needed to help (its in the magicians rule book that all warriors must be helped by magicians). Carefully, they followed the patterns of old, putting each stitch in the right place. They tanned the hide of a Jowxie (a magical creature, much like a dragon, but more of a cow- use your imagination) whose hide produced a leather so light, yet so warm and firm. They used the thread of a wimaspa, strong, tight and long lasting, that would wart off all enemies the boy would run into. The pockets were enchanted, able to hold tons of crap that they boy would find months after putting it in there, exactly when he would need it (money seemed to spew forth out of one of the pockets). And on the neck, they poured baby powder (made from actual baby snake bones) that would cause the boy to never itch his neck when he wore it. And thus it was made. And then duplicated and sold to Kmart, where it waited.
Thunders Core Smith was a boy that didnít like wearing a jacket, as his mother would tell the gossipers in the neighborhood. It was hard for Mrs. Smith to explain to people why her son didnít wear a jacket to school when it was cold. When asked about it, Thunders Core replied that he didnít like how jackets felt. ďIn fact, I donít like how shirts feel. Theyíre all itchy,Ē he explained. But because Mothers always know best, he would wear a jacket to school. It was only for the car ride, after that he put it on the coat rack, next to the Archie comics. He didnít go out for recess some times because of the jacket. It didnít make sense to people, even Thunders Core himself. He loved running around in the snow, and did it all the time growing up with friends. Then one day, they just became heavy and itchy. So inside he played, working on things that he didnít understand too well like math, waiting for summer.
This went on for a three winters. Due to a very active Mother Nature, it was time for a new Jacket for Thunders Core (who was now looking the part of the Warrior predicted- rawr). Thunders Core Smith knew that all of the jackets would have the same problem, and like the other jackets, heíd just wear it on the rare occasion that he was outside. He tried a few on that he at least thought looked fashionable, but those were near unbearably heavy. But lo and behold, there was a jacket that stood out among the rest. It shined like armor in Thunderís eyes and so he tried it on. For some reason, this jacket did not itch. It wasnít heavy. It wasÖ comfortable. He zipped it up and jumped. Zipping it up made it heavy like the others. He ripped part of the zipper off right then and there and told his mom he knew what jacket he wanted.
From that point on, 7 of the 9 months of school you could count on seeing him with the jacket on. He wore it through Jr. High and also through High School, even into college. Many stains befell the coat but Thunders Core didnít mind. This was the only jacket that he felt would ever be comfy on him. And many times he would reach into a pocket and find money that wasnít there before. And so, infamy beset the jacket, and thus it was known as The Infamous Brown Jacket of T.
Its hard to make sense, but really, I hate how most jackets feel. They just make my skin all itchy, and they feel so heavy. I can't stand tags on a shirt, so I rip them off. Theres something about my jacket though that just feels right. ::shrug:: Maybe I'm just a looney.
Ok, so yeah, there it is. Back to T_Smith.
Posts: 9750 | Registered: Jul 2002
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Uh, no it shouldn't. In fact, quit calling this a landmark. My land mark was insulting Jon Boy. As was celia's. As was Kats. It should be a tradition.
Posts: 9750 | Registered: Jul 2002
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