August 21, 2011

Happy DeathDay!

[...Posted by Ted H]

Cake, anyone?

Not counting anything from any Creative Writing class, Ive currently now have proofread stories from three different people I know....What I really wanna know is: WHO THE FUCK AM I?
Oh thats right, Im awesome...Carry on...

Ive also added some new features including a fucking SEARCH BAR at the bottom! Wooooooooooo!


[Happy DeathDay]

According to the computer clock, it was 3am. “When did it become 3am?” Mel asked himself as he checked his phone to confirm the time. Nope, the computer doesn’t lie. Wikipedia is a dangerous thing Mel learned as he switched the laptop down and went to empty the dryer. Click on one article and you can get lost in an endless marathon of side links. Whatever, its not like he had anywhere to be in the morning.

Mel gathered his laundry and made his way out of the laundry room and up the basement stairs of the house. He rented an old townhouse with a couple other people and the laundry machine and dryer were both hidden in the darkest corner of the basement. Mel never minded since his wi-fi still connected. He dare not abandon his clothes until they were finished, since his roommates were impatient and wouldn’t hesitate to toss his clothes to the ground so they could get at the machines. He wasn’t guarding his clothes in vain tonight either, he already chased away Neil earlier, who was notorious for throwing Mel’s clothes into a dirty corner of the basement.

Clothes in a sack hoisted over his back, and his laptop safely tucked under his arm, Mel made it out of the basement and headed for the main staircase. Fatigue setting in more and more every step of the way. All he could think about was getting to bed when someone rang the doorbell, causing Mel to almost drop his items.

“Are you serious?” he asked to no one in particular as he placed his laundry down and safely placed his laptop on top of it, then made for the door. Whoever this was had a lot of nerve, lord only knew if he woke up any of Mel’s roommates. The doorbell sounded again and Mel urgently ran to the door to prevent the ringer from doing so a third time. Without even looking to see who was out there, Mel threw open the door and was taken aback at who it was.

Out in the entryway was a man dressed in a black cloak, with a hood over their head concealing any hint of who they were. They bore an uncanny resemblance to the Grim Reaper. Held in their right hand (which was made to look like a skeleton hand) was your standard sickle while the left hand held a small chocolate cake.

“Not funny,” Mel said as he stared down the figure. “Happy birthday!” the figure said in a very unreaper-like upbeat tone “And by birthday I mean Death Day!” The figure held out the cake with their boney hand which up close looked legitimately like a real skeletal hand. “What’s going on?” Mel asked as he backed away and near the staircase.

“Look,” the man said as he entered with the cake “Lets just get this over with. You’re not the only soul I need to collect tonight.” Mel backed his way up the staircase as the hallway light illuminated the figures head. Most of the face was concealed by the hood but there was the unmistakable look of a jaw bone peeking out in the light. This guy was defiantly a walking skeleton. “Y-you’re death? Prove it!” Mel said, screaming out that last part in hopes that one of his roommates would wake up. “Don’t run,” the figure said as he ascended the stairs up to Mel “Now take your cake and let’s get this over with.

An overwhelming sense of intimidation washed over Mel as he realized the not only was death here to kill him, but it seemed that there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. “C’mon man!” Mel screamed again “Whys it gotta be me? I don’t wanna die!” It seemed that either Death was pulling some voodoo keeping everyone asleep or that Mel wasn’t screaming loud enough. He was too frightened to scream any louder though.

“Just have your cake so I can move on,” Death insisted as Mel finally accepted what apparently was going to be his last meal. “I-I’m not hungry,“ he said as Death shrugged and said “Then lets get this over with then.” Mel bit his lip and lowered his head as Death shifted and raised his scythe in preparation for reaping. Mel didn’t want to watch as he fixated on his cake that once spelt “Happy Birthday” but “Birth” was removed and a frosting skull and crossbones was there instead. The name underneath caught Mel’s eyes and at the last second he screamed for death to wait!

“What the hell, kid?” Death asked after stopping himself mid-stride, the blade of his scythe only a few inches away from its target. “Neil’s the one you want! I’m not Neil,” Mel said as he presented the cake back to Death. “Yeah, I bet,” death said as he raised his weapon back up. “No, I can prove it!” Mel screamed as he cowered up the stairs and placed the cake on the ground. He then dug his wallet out of his pants pocket and showed Death his drivers license.

“Looks fake to me,” Death said. “You got the wrong guy, man!” Mel protested as he ran into his room. “Wait right there!” he shouted as he grabbed a yearbook from high school and flipped through the pages. “Here,” he said as he showed Death his senior picture, then showed him Neil’s. “Might be a typo, or a mix up of names,” Death said, still not convinced. Mel then sprinted back to his room and dug up three more yearbooks, including one from college and showed Death that his name and picture match up in all of them.

“Well…” death said after a moment, “That certainly would have been embarrassing. Where is Neil then?” Mel breathed a sigh of relief. “Neil? You missed him. He’s sleeping,” he finally said. “That’s odd,” Death said “I was suppose to catch him on his way to bed.” Mel didn’t like the sound of that. Maybe Death was the one with the typo and was really suppose to kill him instead? “Accidents happen?” Mel squeaked out. Death reached into his cloak and pulled out a PDA. He tapped the screen with his boney finger and showed Neil’s name as well as some other pertinent information. “Not a mistake,” he said “I‘m just apparently late.”

Mel thought about it for a moment. Was Death really late? Or was Neil suppose to be the one doing his laundry at this hour? Did Mel save Neil by kicking him out of the basement? Either way, it was pretty clear something happened. “Looks like Neil missed his appointment with Death,” Mel said as a joke. “Not this time,” Death said as he brandished his scythe and marched upstairs. “I’m gonna…I’m gonna go do my laundry again,” Mel said as he sprinted down back into the basement, locking the door behind him.

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