American Wasteland

(I know I've read this one already, but I still wanted to post it. I'll be uploading the one I wrote for Melissa's session ASAP :D)

American Wasteland

It’s been six years since the bombs went off. We were caught off guard and that really hurt us bad. The east coast was hit first and they were hit the most. Nukes, smallpox, H-bombs, everything and anything anyone can think of, they were hit with. It was a surprise anyone made it out of there alive, or what you can call alive. To me, they were mindless zombies, though not the eat-your-brains kind of zombie. They were people with a hard case of PTSD.

Middle America was just as unlucky. They were bombed with nukes and missiles and had to deal with crop eating insects too. Here in the west coast, we weren’t severely bombed, but still…. Washington State is as wasteland. Nevada, Arizona, and Utah are all radioactive and uninhabitable. California was split into two. Whoever organized the bombings were smart and they knew what to hit and how to hit it. Within months after the attack, and with the government failing to deliver support, the United States of America was now in crumbles.

It’s a surprise as to how I survived. Thinking back to where I was when the first bomb dropped, it’s amazing how your instincts can keep you alive. I remember being in a classroom and then out of nowhere the wall exploded. I got out as soon as I could, passing by the corpses of my friends. It was saddening, but I didn’t have time to mourn. I was the few lucky folks who got out right before the school crumbled. From what I had seen before the school fell, there were many holes punched through the building.

Fire trucks, ambulances, and even police arrived within minutes. Firefighters went straight for the fire that was emitting from the rubble. The police maintained safety and the paramedics patched up those who were lucky to survive. Unfortunately, another bomb dropped about two miles away from where I was and the wave of debris reached where we were.

It was total panic. After receiving medical attention, I went straight home. My parents, siblings, and dog were getting ready to enter the bomb shelter my father made under the basement. It took three years to make, and no one in the family thought we’d need to use it. Were we thankful that my father didn’t listen to us. The shelter was one mile below the surface and it had been stocked with the essentials that would last for two years. And so, we went below.

After the two years were up, I was voted to surface and see how things were. To be honest it wasn’t like how I’d imagine it….

“James. It’s time for dinner! I won’t call you again!” yelled a woman through the closed door of her son. She sounded a little irritated, but calm nonetheless.

“I’ll be there as soon as I finish reading this chapter!” The son responded, yelling through the closed door as well.

“Now!” His mom replied. With an annoyed sigh, he placed his bookmark between the pages he stopped at and put the book down. “Fine, fine…” he said in defeat as he opened the door and went downstairs.

The Whimsical Stylings of Melting Meat

The blood seeped through the door so suddenly that we all had a hard time comprehending the foul stench of dripping mucus and boats made out of bone chips that gilded like boastful nightingales across the crimson puddle.

What do we strap ourselves with? Someone should have shouted, but all remained silent as my sister Tam-Tam slurped her pea soup with the pouty lips of an 80 year old cock sucker on a cold, slow night. The bombs were coming from the far left and I could see Little Sister coughing up paint in her hands, squinting her eyes as orange, yellow and dark plum violet oozed between her finger form cups. As the miscarriage of the rainbow sat ideally in her lap I began to stare off to the east. The once complex territorial graffiti that was framed on each wall began to melt and slide. Our own markings becoming cryptic and alienated right before our eyes.

Without a word we all stood at the same time. Tam-Tam set aside her rusty spoon and Little Sister smeared the colors over her tattered pants and I stared, hypnotically at the bloody pulps of soft tissue and firm meat that swirled like a forgotten stew on our floor. We strapped and stood, bold and unknowing, armed and calm. Ready for something we couldn't define but we dare not look in the mirrors.

Entropic Wasteland

My eyes burned and watered as i looked over the horizon,pillars of black smoke greeted the evening sky with a poisonous kiss.In my arms a little girl whimpered and squirmed as i picked my way through a rubber jungle of black tires.Like so many other things, she to was tossed out with the rest of the garbage. Myself and so many others also made up the land of the forgotten.Through the muck and grime we foraged for anything "useful".Maybe just maybe we would be fortunate to find an aluminum can, or a piece of copper wire, but no only rubber tires; as far as the eyes can see.

If you ask me how it all happened,how it came to this i really could'nt tell you. In hindsight, if i think back the writing was on the wall. Who would of thought the saving of the planet, would of meant the rape of it's people.Yeah, no one saw it comming; that is to say no everyday person saw it comming."Shh little one" i whispered, trying to stifle hunger cries from my unwanted orphan. "There are worst things than hunger in this Jungle".

We hadn't eaten for 5days now, the only thing that parted our lips was the murky,filthy water we walked in. It so easy to get angry with the politicians,but in truth we the people allowed this to happen, we fueled the greed of the wealthy. It started first with the housing crash,then the banks and auto industries followed.The system wasn't broken, as long as everyone was getting rich "the fundamentals of our economy was sound".When the house of cards fell and the dust settled, everyone was united in getting the country back on the right track.We were going in a new direction,words like transperancy,honesty,clean coal technology,fuel efficiency were the new catch phrases of the day. But it was the middle class,the poor who paid for it with our servitude.

"We all must make sacrifices" one politician said, those dicks with their "politricks" steered us into a snare that our blind loyalty didn't see comming.We worked and worked and were promised that "eventually the wealth would trickle down".Bull shit, soon the rich began to build high rises and gated communities; as we the working poor were herded like sheeps into areas that became dumps.

Oh yes we became a nation of recyclers alright,cans,bottles, papers all found new uses in this new dispensation.Only the working class seemed obsolete, we recycled so much; that there was nothing left for the poor to scavange on. Tire dumps became plentiful,you see even though we drove fuel efficent cars we could'nt find out how to deal with the old tires.Instead, we stored them in open spaces that became dumps; until we could find some use for them.

Officers frequented the dumps, drawn to the fires that the people living in the dumps set ablaze. This was done to protest the injustice enacted on the poor. The gap between the rich and poor grew to epic propotions,there was no more middle class.We became what the politicians called"usless eaters".Useless eaters, we were responsible for the environmentally friendly,houses,cars,garments,schools; how could they discard us like this.You know what, we have only ourselves to blame.We believed the propaganda, it is true what the Island people say " the greatest lie is one sandwiched between to truths"; and we took our with ketchup,mustard and all the condiments.

Some movement catches my peripheral vision,a few people scurried between tires ahead of us.I had to hide in case they decided that me and my little companion looked delicious.We've been walking endlessly,I am so tired and hungry,the burden in my arms soon becomes more and more heavy.As i continue to walk to nowhere, frail straved bodies with hollow eyes peer up at me. My secret promise,I'm not going to go out like that,I'm not.

Soon my legs give way,so i found myself sitting on furnitures of ruin lives and broken dreams. The the little one in my arms grows weaker also. For both of us I cry but there are no tears; i know what must be done. I've been carrying her for weeks because she no longer had the strength to carry herself.Why i did it? I guess i did it because i was tired of wandering this wasteland alone. Never had i asked her name ,nor did i call her by anything of meaning it just did'nt seem important. "Please heaven forgive me this act, forgive me for loosing faith". never looking down, i didn't want her eyes to look into mines.

I turned toward the burning horizon as my hands covered her mouth and nose, she was so weak she did'nt even struggle.When she finally went limp I held her close , mustering enough strength i threw her among the other debris. I tried not to feel bad, comforting myself with sick rationalizations i told myself, people throw things away everyday.

Leaving my burden behind i trudge on, mulling over and over in my mind that I had a job, a home and a husband; all of that laid desolate and empty in a distant past. I like so many believed in the American dream, the pusuit of freedom,love, happiness yeah all that shit . Love and truth walk hand in hand they say,but if the need is great enough,people can learn to love a lie? Ah yes the present situation prooves that theory to be true sadly to one's detriment."Oh look,it's my lucky day; a serated alluminum can". Sitting on a tire 50ft from my discarded parcel I breathe in the stench of burning tires and rotting flesh.

I marvel at how the blood from my freshly cut wrist blends nicley with the black oily water of this entropic wasteland. Closing my eyes against the sound of blood pumping in my ears. "No worries" i said "people throw things away everyday".

Ocean's Block

A chill morning, with a beautiful blue sky overhead.

I look towards the horizon, I smile to myself, excited about the journey ahead.

I feel the breeze as I prepare my boat to sail the vast ocean.

This isn’t just any ordinary ocean though, this ocean is one of broken thoughts, frustration, anger, sadness, and other ideas and emotions that couldn’t be exactly conveyed.

The vastness is known as Ocean’s Block…painters of all creeds dump their incompleteness here, pieces they do not want others to see.

The ocean is one hundred feet deep, filled to the top canvases of all sizes, shapes. Broken, dirty, blank, painted on, ripped…too many types to name them all.

The breeze got stronger and the chill sent a shiver up my spine.

My voyage was almost set, I was going to sail this ocean.

As I looked forward, I began my journey.

A Mothers Woes

http://www.sjmusart.org/content/collection/highlights/paintings/item_info.phtml?itemID=37&typeID=paintings

Here I stand, my beautiful ebony hair pulled back and its length packaged into the traditional ceremonial bun with the red dragon crest of my family line, Shao Kahn, binding it all together. I decided to buck tradition and instead of wearing the dragon earrings of my family, I wore my favorite earrings. I remember what he said when he gave them to me,

“These earrings represent our love; green for money and power surrounded by the golden flow of our power as we spread our power far and wide, like that of a sun with a green heart.” Oh, how I loved his power…but the past is the past. Now is the time for the future and my daughter’s new life.

She always loved me in this traditional Mongolian style blue dress with its red collar and lining. She said it made me shine like royalty. I long for my Outworld trappings not this Earthrealm crap! Though, as this is her day, I’m wearing what she wants. I should be happy for her on this day, my one and only daughter has chosen herself a husband and held strong against my better judgment. For that I will always secretly envy her as I could never have done that to my mother. In the end I was right what is love with out money? Sure we did love each other when things were going well but he was just a magic seller. He knew nothing of making it for himself. What a hack, but great in bed. Oh well, death comes to those who speak out against the Dragon King. Oh my, love Shang Tsung why didn’t I stand up for our love. I was too weak, unlike my daughter.

My mind is swirling in this place I can’t seem to focus. I can’t believe she will be Mrs. Earthrealm Scum. Oh well, that is the ways of youth these days. I will make sure that my grandchildren know their heritage.

“Ladies and gentleman I now present to you Mr. and Mrs. Kang.” Said a man with lightning swirling in his eye sockets.

May my tears bring your death Liu Kang!!

Science Marches On.

“That’s checkmate again, old friend.” Edgar said to Charles, his metallic companion, as he took the opposing queen.
“Statement: Indeed. Good game.” Charles responded as he offered a handshake that Edgar took.
“Yes, good game as always. I’ll never understand why you older models have fallen out of favor.”
“Agreement: I know of nothing wrong with me, either. Speculation: Us Zwei-Series models aren’t as entertaining, I suppose.”
“Nonsense, you’re plenty fun." Edgar said with a scoff. "Why, you can play chess, checkers, or any other game just as well as me.”
“Observation: You and I may be the only ones who still play such games.”
“True. If it doesn’t have some fancy graphics nobody will give it a second glance any more.”
“Statement: Sad, but true.”
“Really, it’s just gotten ridiculous nowadays. Can’t even tell between man or machine anymore.”
“Agreement: That is true. Even some androids believe they are human.”
“Ah, that’s just bad programming. Those Vier-Series ‘bots are just hunks of junk.”
“Skeptical Agreement: Maybe. Proposition: For now, care for another game?”
“Ah, I’m afraid not. I must be going.” Edgar said while rising.
“Question: For your monthly upgrade?” Charles asked.
“Yes, even us Drei-Series androids need virus protection. See you tomorrow.”
“Statement: Farewell.” Charles said before Edgar left the room. With nothing left to do, he leaned back and entered standby mode, waiting for the return of his more advanced friend.

Expectations

Chuckles the Bubble Makers’ house had the smell of day old sweat. The most pungent west wing of the house where all the strange sounds had been coming from was finally allowed to air out with the opening of the studio window on the west wing of the house.

The son of the Bubble Maker, JacJac, sat on the floor with disappointment and annoyance. The stage he had set up for his distant visitor now only full of his failures. He remembers, it was a beautiful Saturday morning, when his best friend, Socosa, a cockatoo, he found that talked, flew into the kitchen with Samson his childhood pet dog that he wished could talk following close behind.

“Stop, your infernal gyrating about and listen.” Socosa bellowed in his cute high pitched voice. Always, thinking himself bigger and stronger then he really is. JacJac, decided this was just another one of Socosa’s annoying boasts and continued to dance to music only he could hear. The bells on his hat and his humming the only sound the other could register. Moments after Socosa flew in, Samson slid his way in on the polished linoleum kitchen floor barking and turning around in a circle clockwise then counterclockwise and barking again. JacJac stopped dancing to the music in his head.

“What is it boy?” He said now kneeling down petting Samson.

“Great, he listens to the dog, a creature that licks his own privates, not to the 10^th level stellar mathematic intellect.”

“You mean the talking bird that likes to crap on newspaper in a cage.” JacJac fired back looking up from Samson.

“After your stupid dog slapped me in with his tail I prefer to “crap” in safety.” Socosa explained with his beak raise up as if a disgusting smell had just creped its way in.

“Anyway, we have a royal visitor. He name is Vizier Kutok. He is a member of the Intergalactic Council of Knowledge or ICK for short.”

JacJac raised his right eye brow, looking doubtful at his mouthy friend but before he could make a witty retort about the name ICK he remembered his father telling his the story of being an intergalactic jester, which seemed to run in the family he never had to do a normal job he just used his natural funniness to get by.

“Alright, Sam let’s go see what the 10^th level intellect is talking about.”

Those were the last sarcastic words he remembers being said. He walked into the studio to meet the Vizier. He vaguely remembers being introduced and Samson always in a separate room way from the Vizier. He remembered the high pitched voices talking to each other and Socosa saying that his son was having his birthday in one Earth week and he came to seek out his dad. Unfortunately, Socosa had to tell him he died 10 years ago while eating and laughing by choked on a small chicken bone with his friends. No one helped him in time because they thought it was just him making another joke. Socosa explained to the Vizier that JacJac has been doing a great job carrying on with his fathers work.

“Great one, he will be perfect for your son’s party. Just let him wow you with his born talent.”

JacJac did his best work; he brought out his big feet, no laugh from the Vizier. He did a comical violin playing, not even a smile. He tried his makes of comedy and drama…again, nothing. The sun was starting to set and he was sweating and tired. He tried a last resort as he saw the vizier turn started to turn to open the window. JacJac pulled out a piece of paper from jigsaw puzzle and reviewed the instruction that was on it:

To make someone laugh who can’t or won’t. This happens to all of us once in awhile don’t get down, just let go. Sometimes the person just isn’t in the mood for a laugh, just let go. So I’ve written that twice now, just let go. You should have pick up on it by now…just let go…FART you idiot. Make the sound or do the deed but just let it go. It you can’t get them on that…well you need some help…and clean underwear.

---Chuckles the Bubble Maker

JacJac had never knew his father to “just let go” before but he decided to give it a go. Within an instance, the Vizier telekinetically threw the windows open and flew out into the light of the setting sun. Leaving JacJac on the floor wondering were he had gone wrong. Socosa knew it was probably best to keep his mouth shut, he never expected him to fail.