Slow and Steady

May 26, 2010

It’s small slimy head broke the waters surface and sent tiny little ripples in different directions. It looked around with it’s little black eyes, searching for danger. It began kicking it’s legs slowly but surely swimming towards land. Little pellets of rain fell around it, splashing onto the water. It was a calm rain. Up again the soft wet land was drawing closer. The Turtle could see the water slowly trickle down the shoreline into the creek. Along the sides reeds grew tall above the Turtles head, reaching up high into the blue beyond. He had reached the shore, slowly he began to walk up the mound but it was too wet and slippery, and he would slide down again and again, trying harder each time and feeling the same disappointment. Turning around he plopped back into the water with a little splash, and swam along side the land and the reeds searching for a way up onto the shore.
After a few minutes the little Turtle found some small moss covered rocks leading poking out of the water, leading onto a flat surface. The little Turtle gave a big heave, with the last energy he could find and plunked himself out of the cold green water and onto the wet mud of the land.
The pellets of rain were getting slower but a cool breeze blew across the slimy face of the Turtle, he peered around manoeuvring his head in a almost comedic fashion. Moving stumpily along the shore and up further towards the trees. Lowering his head towards the ground he began to dig a hole, shovelling the wet dirt aside. Soon his hole was deep enough and the little Turtle turned and sat in it, beginning to lay eggs.
He was a she and she was giving birth.
Soon the winds had died down and the rain had stopped and a golden ray of light shone upon the creek. The Turtle slowly buried her eggs, and stumbled back towards the water, golden from the pebbles below and light above. Upon reaching she gave one last look up towards where her eggs when, and plunk, she was back in the water, back where she had started.

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Chaotic Reasoning

April 6, 2010

The harsh smoke of my $8000 Cuban cigar flows into my lungs. A fat bearded hobo walks the street picking up papers with his sharp stick, he places the rubbish into his beard, along the way singing “Oh, I pick my rubbish up, and I stick it in my beard oh what fun it is to pick up rubbish at this time of year!”
I hear an accent within the song. Possibly French.
“Another coffee sir?” Asks the hunchback waiter.
“Yes, yes.” I say, irritated. I can’t stand strange people, especially not Quasimodo here, nor the singing hobo who is now entering the coffee shop.
I take a long drawl of my cigar and allow the harsh smoke to soothe my lungs. I raise my newspaper in hope that the hobo won’t come begging to me.
I hear a rattling sound quite like coins being chucked around. I take a peek and see the hobo at the other side of my desk. Ugh, I proceed to ignore him and read the paper. Oooh, leather walking sticks are on sale! The rattling continues, I stick my hand out and shoo this filth ridden Santa away. Eventually he leaves, to my relief. I lower my paper and take another long drawl of my fair priced cigar. I see Quasimodo returning. I can’t smoke around him, his posture is creepy and weird. I want to go home and adore my fair priced furniture. My rug? $60, 000. A bargain! I search for my wallet to pay the hunchback of Nostre Dame so I can leave. It’s not in that pocket… nor in this one… Panic rises within me and I start to rigorously search through my coat. IT’S GONE!
Quasimodo arrives at my table and I send him off to fetch me another cup of coffee. I begin to inhale and exhale with my cigar furiously. As Disney’s favourite freak returns with my coffee an old shrivelled woman enter the store along with the hobo who beckons her for money. She struggles on opening her purse taking her, what seems to me, an eternity. She pulls out a huge roll of money, giving one note to the pitiful poor man’s Santa. He stabs it up with his sharp stick and leaves the store. Senior Right Angle returns, I send him to fetch me another coffee… How long will I be here for?!
The little lady hops up and goes to the toilet, as she walks I can’t help but think of the slug woman from Monsters Inc… She has left her purse! Here’s my chance, I reach over and grab it as I begin to open it a police car arrives in front of the shop.
“Shit!” I exclaim, perhaps too loudly and throw it down into the chair where it once was.
The officer begins a discussion with Walt Disney’s nightmare now would be my chance, I reach over and pull open the purse, the first thing to come out is an ugly looking mask, the face of someone you really wish didn’t exist. I look over at the officer and Quasi I notice they have pasted a wanted poster onto the wall.
I stare at the poster, and double take back at the mask. Oh dear.
Quasi looks over and see me holding the mask, who’s face is on the wanted poster.
A single tear rolls down my face as I start to tap the ashes of my cigar into one of the many hundreds of coffee mugs.
Him and the officer both begin walking to me. My heart rate rises a thousand beats a second, the hobo re-enters the store, they are throwing accusations at me, I begin to cry like a little girl, the old woman comes back from the bathroom, she takes the mask…
Paper is flying everywhere. Had an explosion occurred? I am slightly out of it. I see the woman exist the shop and enter a bus.
Quasi hands me down a bill, and I cry like a child on their first day of school.
I look up, and the hobo has placed the note on my desk. He then leaves and continues to pick up papers in the street. Quasi takes the money and the bill is paid…
I… I’m speechless. I smile and a sense of relief washes over me.