Harry Potter (Part I)

I made some butterbeer. Enjoy the picture as I get ready to work my 6 and a half hour shift and then go straight to the premier. I'll blog about how everything went afterwards~

Label written in the shittiest handwriting I could muster

12 oz cream soda + 3.5 tablespoons of butterscotch syrup. In case you wanted to know for your own premier drink enjoyment

The Haunted E-Zine

Hey, internet! I've been pretty busy for the past few days (working three jobs and keeping my social life intact before I go off to college is pretty taxing and I'll be damned if I can illustrate new entries or even type meaningful stuff, but I promise you, more content is on the way.

I'm here today to share another blog, one that I have really high hopes for since I love horror stories. The Haunted E-Zine is a blog hosted here on Blogspot being edited by Peter J. Towns, who's trying as hard as possible to promote it. I don't really have many followers (just some RL friends and lurkers, really), but I figured that projects like these - ones that help out all the aspiring horror writers out there with nowhere to share their works - aren't all that common and really need as much help as possible!

So if you're interested just follow the blog. Maybe retweet a post from @TheHauntedEZine. Or read the first story there, "Hazmat" by Sean Capelle, a true rollercoaster of a psychological horror flash fic.

Okay, I'm rambling now! And using too many exclamation points. It almost makes me want to make an entire post about extreme punctuation.

This is the maniacal joy I get out of grammar. Or something.

Some other new things. I've adopted a new style - I gave up on finding my tablet pen and started using the pen tool a lot instead of the brush tool. Experimented a bit with a Homestuck comic thing and I'm getting pretty used to it.

Also, I have a million creepy pictures. And three ironic movie posters. And a blog entry that will border on internet drama. And pretty much no time.

So yeah! Give The Haunted E-Zine a look and stay tuned for more, uh, stuff!

We Don't Need Another Song About California

Spiders

Normally I'm prettygentle and nice to animals if I do say so myself. I stay away from meat, try and let bugs go instead of squishing them, and all things of the sort. I've always even thought spiders were kinda cute. You know, helping out the ecosystem by eating pesky mosquitoes and all...

The thing about spiders is, I was mistaken.

Gravely mistaken.

At job #2, not the craft store one and not the animal shelter one but the one where I work around the house for a family member in the middle of nowhere, spiders are not a new thing. They tend to nest everywhere, and pop up when you least expect them, i.e. when you're painting a fence.

They're not the super-poisonous sort, mind you. Nor are they the black, bulbous things you imagine when you hear "spider." They're more of the harvestmen sort.

Despite what myths might tell you, they're not at all dangerous. But believe me, they are creepy as hell. To be honest, I'd rather fight off a black widow than have one of these long-legged bastards land on my arm just staring at me with its round, eyeless body. And it doesn't help that their long legs look like some freakish alien proboscis ready to probe you.

Picture that. In your dreams.

While one is usually not a bother (I can typically ignore them), there was something about that day. Something about the proximity to the woods, and the eerie stillness in the air. As if... there were no flies, no mosquitoes, not even a lone hornet that braved this part of the fence. Little did I know I was being watched.

Ewwwww, a spider.

That's when the revelation hit me.

They're everywhere.

Little did they know, I was armed. Armed with a power washer. And you don't scare Kopaka13 when Kopaka13 is armed.

THIS TOOK 5 SECONDS TO DRAW OK

 All rationality and sanity vanished about then. My conscience tried to warn me about the serious karmic repercussions of actions such as these, but stupidly it took the form of a cricket.

Let's just say that's the last I'll be hearing from him for a while.

DO YOU WANT SOME OF THIS

At that moment there was more overzealous water-spraying than there would be had somebody provided Gilmour and Water fire hoses and pitted them against each other in a death match back in '79 (if that metaphor makes any sense idunnolol)

This shittily thrown together piece of silhouette action cannot properly describe the paranoia that passed in those passing seconds. And that's when... it all stopped. I was filled with tremendous guilt. What have I done? They never did anything. Other than look like they crawled out of the bowels of J.J. Abrams' most bizarre erotic fantasy. Other than that. They did nothing to me. They did nothing to merit such a cruel and watery death.

In those exact words. Okay maybe they're embellished a bit.

Either way I knew there was only one option left. The words of Nietzsche out of a book I've never read flashed through my head as I aimed the power washer, finger steady on the trigger. It was time to power wash my brains out.

 

 

And the rest is history.