u s e y o u r h a n d s

His body twisted in a corkscrew as he streaked through the sky. He ducked around wisps of cloud, enjoying how the wind felt rushing through his fur. For a few moments, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the sounds, smells, and sensation of flying at night.

When Falcor he opened his eyes, the village appeared below. Just a smattering of houses decorated the small hills and inside them, Falcor knew kind people were going about their sweet, simple lives. The place made his heart swell. If a Luck Dragon of 100 feet ever had a home among humans, this for sure was his. He and swooped down into the town square, landing softly among the twinkling streetlights.

“Falcor!” said a stern voice behind him. Falcor turned his doglike head to face the voice. His floppy ears traced a line in the dirt. It was Inigo, the mayor. When Falcor saw him, he flashed back on the long conversations they had, some lasting all night. But tonight Inigo looked stern.

“Inigo, friend. I am pleased to see you,” said Falcor with a kind smile. It failed to crack Inigo’s grimace.

Inigo strode up to Falcor, but he did not approach the Luck Dragon’s nose and place his palm on it, as was his usual greeting. He kept five feet between them and in one hand, he kept a tight grip on a hatchet.

“We have heard tell of your time in lands far from here,” spat Inigo. Falcor had never heard him speak like this and it broke his heart. “We have heard you befriended a village not unlike this one and then destroyed it.”

Falcor reeled from these lies. His head jerked back and dread hummed through his blood. It was happening all over again. The rumors, the fear. He began to get to his feet and take off. Inigo would never believe him, and would never trust him the same way again. And how could Falcor blame him? Of course he must protect his town.

“I did not do these things, Inigo. But I will go and not trouble an inch of your lands again. I vow it. And, through our many talks, I hope that you would trust that I keep my word.” Falcor said the words he’d said before to different men holding different weapons.

Other figures emerged from the darkness. Men, holding rakes, hoes, swords, bows, surrounded him. Sadness welled up in his heart and extinguished the last flicker of hope. This time, he would not run. Falcor believed he would run out of spots to hide. Towns of men littered the hills in greater numbers all the time. He was never accepted for long.

As the men ran toward him, he locked eyes with Inigo. The mayor had begun to weep, and Falcor saw the tears snake down his face and drop to the ground. Inigo’s hatchet dropped from his hand. He stared deep into Falcor’s eyes, trying to convey how sorry he was, how confused. Falcor saw all these things and let Inigo knew he forgave. This was not his time or place. Perhaps when he woke, after the hacking stopped and the pain fell away, he would be home.

Whoa. The death of Falcor? What am I all about today? Oh, who knows. I’m rather peppy, too.

Having the Lady Bloggers over this wknd. Making desserts. What should I serve?

So I was all set to write a story from the point-of-view of a pirate’s fake eye, but I wanted to use PI, like Magnum PI, but then I realized that “pirate’s eye” was really PE, and that means something else entirely. I’m going to have to rethink the whole concept. However, I think it’s a good concept.

Is the whole thing about getting older that you constantly feel like there’s no time in the day? Because if it is, what’s the point? Or is getting older discovering a love for coffee? Even now, dear reader, I am savoring a cup of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee (sans donut, mind you!). The cream is creamy, but not greasy. The coffee flavor does not smell of that certain potty smell, like coffee can do when it is bad coffee. This coffee, very, very hot when acquired, is now perfectly drinkable. It is the balm for my weary soul. Oh, coffee! We’ve wasted so many years.

From McSweeney’s Letters Page. I must preface your reading of this hilarious snippet to tell you that I don’t read McS anymore. It just got too-too for me. However, occasionally I like to click through the ungodly Web site.

Dear McSweeney’s,

Down at the Astor Place subway today, same dude, looking a little better, singing “Michael, Row Your Boat Ashore,” and then bam!, parlays it right into “Riders on the Storm” again.

Yours,
Josh Engel

There’s a big lesbian dance party on Friday. Who wants to come with? Think about what the line for the potty will be like!

Recently, I’ve put a lot of thought into going into that business called law! I’ve always thought about being a lawyer. I’d have to take the LSATs again, get accepted to law school, then go. But after that, cha-fucking-ching. I have this silly plan to work for a decade, then retire. Is this a good plan? Yes, lawyers are bad. Yes, work hours. But all jobs are not good. I hate all my jobs. So what’s the difference?

Midday update: Okay, so I just finished this story about college Republicans on Salon. They found the three most ridiculous, retarded, cartoony college Republicans ever. I mean, I’ve got no love for the GOP, but vavoom! It’s like Joe McCarthy and David Duke drinking Fuzzy Navels after a Karl Rove speech.

Well, I know that many of you have been wondering when Phineas and Shylo were going to take the plunge, so to speak. This weekend, we took a deep breath and just did it. Some of you will be pretty shocked and others might say, “It’s about time!”

We discussed it for a long time, argued even, but in the end, we decided that it was meant to be. Right before we made it final, Phineas and I had a long talk, last-minute promises.

And then we did it.

We bought a TV.

We hoofed it to Costco early on Saturday and picked up a 20″ flat-screen model with a built-in DVD-ROM. We got an excellent deal. We also got asparagus.

You didn’t think we’d gotten married, did you? Suckaz! We’re not even getting cable.

It’s just another Manic Monday! AJKKFHSDH! What do you do for a “case of the Mondays”?