April 19, 2009

I'm rather distraught, knowing that all inanimate objects, which have some connection to me, have decided to begin a bloody rebellion and cause havoc, hereby annihilating my sense of security.

The war started two days ago, when my papers simply refused to stay within bounds (my binder). It seems that the binder itself was trying to get rid of them, spitting them all over the floor, refusing to open its rings to take them back, then fighting to keep them open, and, finally, ripping out the holes in the first quarter of the pages just for spite. Of course, as though life was not difficult enough by then, this incident nearly made me late for Socials class, where I discovered that this evil binder had pulled another trick and hidden my homework pages within itself somewhere. Hence, my looking like an idiot, rifling through the entire collection approximately eighty-two and a half times. The papers surrendered at long last, revealing themselves as being under the thin black plastic piece which holds the rings in my binder.

I had many struggles with my keys, pencils, erasers, and pens which whole-heartedly threw themselves at people as I passed with them in hand, and my cell phone which has hated me right from the beginning, and hides whenever I put it down. Sometimes it even manages to hide itself in my hands, making me believe with all certainty that it is not there. I have had one consoling thing, however, and that is that my new bag has remained faithful throughout these times of trouble. I have not lost it, or anything in it... yet. I decided to buy it because my old one was being fired after nearly a year of employment. The rebel was caught trying to steal my pens and chapsticks by pushing them through a small hole in the outside pocket and concealing them in the lining, and fell apart entirely when tried. Perhaps this new bag will learn from the last one's fate, that of being thrown in the corner beside my wardrobe to collect dust for eternity, and decide to be kind to its employer.

The latest battle of this war has taken place not more than 2 hours ago within my very own house. My brother and mom had recently spilled the frozen mixed veggies all over the counter and floor, which was much too uncommon of an incident for me to not take notice. Because of this, I finally relaxed, thinking in all honestly that the Inanimate Objects Rebel Front was no longer interested in me, and I was now fully able to get on with my life. Gathered around the table, my family was cheerily tossing insults around, and practicing our family tradition of putting our feet in our mouths, when something about the dish before me caused me to become uneasy. I did not know then that there was a great uprising about to happen right there in front of me. It seemed to me that the macaroni and cheese was a little too friendly. But how could a mere, measly but of wheat and milk product give me anything to worry about? I shrugged it off, believing myself to be overreacting, and went on eating. Then my mom brought me a cup of some sort of Japanese breakfast drink made with oatmeal, and I couldn't help but eye it with some suspicion. It looked so ominous with its milky swirlingness. "Nothing's going to happen, seriously, you're so paranoid," my inanimate brain soothed. I chose to ignore the scariness, drank some, and went on eating my macaroni. Soon I was again distracted again by the conversation, holding my fork suspended halfway to my mouth. I was caught off guard when five or six pieces of these so-called harmless bits of wheat and milk product pitched themselves off of my hovering fork, and dove right into the drink which turned out to be truly ominous after all! I shrieked, and the sound inspired another noodle to jump in after its chums. My whole family jumped and then laughed at my hysterically flailing hands. I really should have payed attention to the fact that my cup was filled with something Japanese... perhaps I could have forseen this act of the macaroni, which is known as Kamikaze. Horrified at this mutiny, I fished in my drink until I found all of the offending IOF agents, and hurled them onto the floor to be devoured by the dog.

In my heart, I now have a burning hatred for macaroni. Therefore, my friends, this hatred shall be converted into a stupendous appetite and I will go on but the macaroni shall not, and neither shall its ally, the ominous Japanese oatmeal drink. Its art of of milky swirliness shall be forgotten, and I will go on with peace of mind and a victory song in my chest.

-RJ Haely (the great)

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Posted by RJ Haely at 2:24 PM