Wanna Participate?

A while back, I did a post asking for others to help me debate who fiction’s greatest archer was. I asked that anyone who wanted to participate should write a post and link up to my original post. Only two people besides me did it. In retrospect, I realized that what I asked was probably too much work for most people to do. After all, we’re all busy people.

So when Matticus and I started talking about a new Versus matchup, I got the idea to try this idea out again, only this time I won’t be asking you to do an entire post on it.

The topic of this particular Versus episode is: Fiction’s Greatest Assassin.

If you would like to participate, all you need to do is comment your choice and give at least 2 or 3 sentences on why you think your choice is Fiction’s Greatest Assassin. You can go over that if you choose, but 2 or 3 sentences is the goal. Obviously, some of you out there may have the same answer, so whoever comments first will get their name in the future post. I will be waiting until everyone else picks theirs before I choose mine. That way I don’t get first pick by virtue of being able to choose right after I post this.

In a week, I will be taking all of the comments and putting them into that post, along with a poll on the bottom of the page. I will leave that poll up for two weeks and we’ll let the WordPress community decide who they agree with.

Unfortunately, there is no prize for winning, but hopefully you all think this is as fun of an idea as I do.

So, please, take the time to comment on who you think Fiction’s Greatest Assassin is. Also, if you have any questions, let me know.

Missed Calls

His daughter had played a game on his phone this morning, draining a little more than a quarter of his battery. He still had some time before work, so he plugged it into his charger and went about his normal morning routine. After showering, putting his clothes on, and going downstairs to make his lunch, he kissed his daughter goodbye. It wasn’t until he was halfway to work that he realized he had left his phone at home on the charger.

If he turned around to get it, he would be late. He couldn’t be late. He would have to go the day without his phone.

It felt strange to him to walk around with an empty pocket. He never noticed how much he had grown used to having it with him at all times. The absence of it almost made him feel naked. Still, he had work to do, so he tried to push it out of his mind and get to it.

Suddenly, his ringtone blared loudly in his mind for a few seconds.

It was almost enough to make him jump. As it was, it increased his heart rate and momentarily sped up his breathing. Out of instinct, he reached to his pocket before remembering he didn’t have his phone with him when he came up empty. A glance at the clock showed that it was only twenty minutes until he went to lunch.

The day’s half over, he reminded himself. Only four more hours after I get back from lunch. His lunch dragged on, him not having his phone to update or browse through his social media sites. He was forced to pay attention to some soap opera that was playing on the television. It was mounted on the breakroom wall too high for him to reach the buttons and he couldn’t find the remote. One of his coworkers must’ve hidden it again. Bastards.

After the hellish lunch he just experienced, he was happy to go back to work for once. He had just reached a productive groove when he was interrupted again by the sound of his ringtone. This time he did jump because of how loud it sounded in his head, although he was able to keep himself from reaching for his pocket that time. The clock said that he had only been back from lunch for an hour. Only three more hours to go, he thought.

The next hour breezed through and because he didn’t have his phone, he decided to skip his final break. He found his groove again, doing well above his normal production. Before he knew it, a bell on the wall rang out, signaling that there was ten minutes left in his shift. With his quota hit, he stopped what he was doing and planned on not doing anything until it was time to clock out. Then, he heard his ringtone again.

Like the first two times, it gave him a start, but it didn’t ring out in his head as loudly that time. Annoyed, he vowed to never be stupid enough to forget his phone again.

When he got home, he found his daughter playing with his phone once again. He took it from her and told her to go play with her own toys. She huffed, but did as she was told. As she was walking away, she told him that he was getting texts all day. Only one text showed up, from his wife asking what he wanted to do for dinner. He was going to ask his daughter about it when he saw that he had voicemails. Those had the same alert tone that his texts did. That must have been what she heard.

The first message was from his brother. He listened as his sibling frantically told him that their grandfather had been rushed to the hospital. As the message was playing, he looked through his phone log and saw that the only missed calls he had were from his brother. The other messages had to be from him as well.

Another frantic rambling greeted him on the next one. His brother was practically begging him to call back, saying that it didn’t look good and that the doctors were saying that his grandfather didn’t have much longer. The third message consisted of his brother bawling, telling him that their grandfather had passed away.

Tears began rolling down his cheeks as he put his phone down on the table in front of him. Through the tears, he saw that his phone log was still open. The first call came in twenty minutes before he went to lunch. The second call came an hour after he got back from lunch. The final call came ten minutes before he clocked out.

Crying even harder now, he went through his phone’s settings until it let him play his ringtone. As the music came from the speaker, he buried his face in his hands. His wife came into the room, asking what was wrong. He didn’t hear her, though. He was listening to his ringtone.

The song his grandfather asked him to use.

 

In Real Life

Our tech room has a chamber in it that has two entrances. One goes through the tech room. The other comes out into my warehouse. Somehow, both of these doors got locked.

My team lead, who got the information from a temp, asked me to double check the door and see if it was indeed locked on my side. I checked and informed him that it was. His response was, “The maintenance guy is the only one with a key and he went home for the day. We really need to get in the room. See if you can pick the lock.”

If I were in a Final Fantasy game, my response would have been “…..”

I realize that in the fantasy worlds I sometimes inhabit I’m a thief/rogue. It would be an easy thing for me to pick a lock there. In the real world, however, not so much. I haven’t used my experience points to upgrade that particular skill here on Earth. It’s not very useful in my life as a warehouse worker/writer/father/husband. 

I didn’t have the slightest clue where to begin, but I told him I’d try. The only tools that I had available to me were a box cutter and a pair of scissors. Now, maybe someone with an aptitude for picking locks could do something with those two things, but all I was really doing was scratching the metal of the door knob.

Of course, about a minute after I started trying to open the door, the maintenance man, who had not gone home, walks in and demands to know what I’m doing. Apparently “failing miserably” was not the answer he wanted to hear. 

So, I had to stand there and be admonished for doing something that I was told to do by my team lead. 

“…..”

RTotD: 6-13

Here we are again. Another day that I will beguile you with the randomness that jumps around in my mind…. Now I have the song Jump Around in my head. I came to get down, I came to get down so get out your seat and jump around!

  • I didn’t watch any of the CW hero shows as they were going on this past season, so it wasn’t until they put them up on Netflix recently that I was able to watch the big crossover event that they did. I have one thing to say about it: Ehhh.
  • The show Castle was about a novelist helping the police solve murders. What you may not know is that they actually had someone ghostwrite the novels that the character Castle writing on the series. They’re actually pretty good. Not great, but pretty good. If you were a fan of the show, you should check them out.
  • I came to get down, I came to get down
    So get out your seat and jump around!
  • Godsmack does a cover of Metallica’s Nothing Else Matters. The music is all piano, which I actually like. And while I also like their lead singer’s voice, I just don’t think it works for this song, so I’m torn about it.
  • I told you all it was my brother’s birthday yesterday and not one of you said “Happy Birthday” in the comments. For shame….
  • I’m wondering if there’s a specific number of these thoughts that I should strive to achieve when I do these posts, or if I should just wing it. After all, it is about randomness. However, I feel like I should give as much content as I can. What does Confucius say?
  • I Googled his quotes and the first one to pop up was: “It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop.”
  • Apparently, Confucius thinks I should go on forever.
  • That’s not going to happen, dead Chinese philosopher guy.
  • I’m now separating every sentence for no apparent reason.
  • That’s rather odd, don’t you think?
  • I should probably stop now.

Anyways…..

Have a good day everyone!

My Wedding Reception

In honor of my older brother’s birthday, I’m reblogging this story about him. This story still gets brought up whenever the two of them are together.

33 Grams of Blog

I promised Twindaddy that I wouldn’t post any stories about him doing embarrassing things. After reading this, you may think I’m breaking that promise, but I have two reasons that I believe I’m not. One, he didn’t do the embarrassing thing, it was done to him. And, two, it happened at my wedding reception, so that gives me permission to use it.

Anybody that knows me knows that I don’t drink. Alcohol does not mix well with my medication. Since this was my wedding, however, I decided to make an exception. Plus, while my medication really didn’t give me any side effects, except to occasionally make me drowsy, I didn’t want to chance it clouding up any part of what is now tied for the best day of my life (the other being the day that Baby E was born).

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I Don’t Get It

A girl that works with me took a half day off for a doctor appointment.

There’s nothing wrong with that. People get sick. People have to go to the doctor. It happens. It’s normally something I don’t give much thought to.

It’s not that the girl took half a day off to go to the doctor that’s making me say that I don’t get it. It’s how she took the half day off that’s confusing me. 

She works from 8-4:30. Because the other company in the building goes to lunch at noon, our employees take theirs at 12:30 to avoid overcrowding the breakroom. She came in at noon and then took a half hour lunch with everyone else at 12:30.

WTF, mate? 

Why do it that way? Not only would it make more sense to come in at 12:30 and work her 4 hours straight through, it also would’ve meant a half hour not spent at work for no reason. I can think of plenty of things much better to do with 30 minutes than sit with coworkers when I don’t have to. 

WTF, mate? 

Story Time

Lately, my daughter has been wanting me to make up a story for her on the spot every night when I put her into bed. Actually, she wants “two or three long, spooky stories”. I have no problem with that. I’ll normally oblige her by coming up with one before I leave the room. There are some nights, however, that it’s not easy for me. Like last night….

It wasn’t coming up with a story that I was having a problem with. It was the fact that I had to go to the bathroom when my wife decided it was time for them to go to bed. I groaned. Of course that was the perfect time for them to lay down.

I accompanied them upstairs and put Baby E into bed. I tried to walk away. She started complaining that I didn’t tell her a story. I explained that I couldn’t tell her a story because I really had to go to the bathroom. Those complaints quickly turned into whines. So, I caved in and told her a really quick story.

Once upon a time, there was a little girl who wouldn’t let her daddy go to the bathroom because she wanted to hear a story. So, her daddy tickled her over and over and over until she finally said he could go. Her daddy went to the bathroom and lived happily ever after… now that he was finally allowed to poop.

She was unimpressed. I thought it was great. What do you think?