Sunday, March 30, 2008


Story time - Part 7

"Terry Harkness awoke from his slumber when he heard a slight sktch from the direction of the hotel room's closet. The former CIA operative with hair-trigger senses waited, as was his habit in these matters, a full five seconds; then he heard the slight noise again. Triangulating it with his keen ears, he deduced that it was being made by a shoe on the linoleum. Amateur, Harkness thought instinctively, you should've worn tennis sneakers. Automatically lunging for the gun he always kept nearby, a habit he'd acquired during his undercover days, Harkness spun and shot at the intruder while still trying to shake the cobwebs of slumber from his eyes.
"Unfortunately, the other man--he could see it was a man in the pale moonlight that filtered through the Venetian blinds of the window--was not as complete an amateur as he'd have preferred, and had begun moving evasively as soon as he'd realized that he'd blown his cover. Nonetheless, the bullet grazed his arm; but held in his other arm, Harkness beheld a rather nasty-looking handgun.
"'Who are you?' Harkness demanded.
"The reply consisted of a short, sustained burst of hot lead; catlike, Harkness avoided the bullets and, with one powerful somersault, came within five feet of the assailant. Unlike him, he would not miss from this range.
"'Drop the gun!' he commanded. The man complied.
"Harkness's mind was racing. 'Who are you?' he repeated. The man remained silent.
"'Who sent you?' he pressed. 'Talk now, scumbag, or I'll shoot!'
"His would-be killer grinned, revealing ugly, uneven teeth in a mouth exposed beneath the black stocking that covered the upper half of his face. 'You vun't dare kill me,' he said with a trace of a Hispanic accent. 'You vant answers? Drop your gun, too.'
"'Now, who said anything about killing you?' Harkness asked innocently.
"Then he shot the assailant in the kneecap.
"The man would have screamed with agony had Harkness not immediately leapt upon him and clamped his hands around his mouth, effectively muffling the perp. After all, he didn't want any valiant staff members barging in; this wasn't one of those cheap dives he had so often frequented--sometimes on business, sometimes not--in the old days.
"'They may be able to save your leg,' he snarled into the man's scrunched-up face. 'It depends on how fast you'll be able to get to a hospital and the quicker you answer me the faster you'll be able to reach one, comprender, amigo?' The man nodded, sweat pouring off him like a river. Harkness could smell his fear. 'And don't scream,' he ordered, letting go and backing off, gun once more levelled at the wounded man.
"'Sheet, man, you crazy!'
"'Crazy is as crazy does. Now, who sent you?'
"'I dun't know, man!' whispered the Latino. 'Just a--ay!--a voice on the tellephone. He--aack!--wouldn't say a name. Sheet, you really effed up my leg. Hurts so bed.'
"'If you're in too much pain, that can easily be remedied', the impassive ex-spy responded, shifting his gun hand meaningfully.
"His would-be assailant quivered like a tub of Jello.
"'All right, all right! I trace de call. It come from fancy-shmancy hotel uptown, de Hofbanhausen.'"
Yagh! I dunno. I've got German on my mind for some reason.
Make it the Ritz.
Just imagine, a constructive idea out of you.
I can do annoying too. You want mke to do annoying? Write!
"'It come from fancy-shmancy hotel uptown, de Ritz. Don' shoot, pliss, I dunno vhat room! Got paid half up front, half after I bump choo off.'
"Harkness went to the door an glanced up an down the hallway. Empty. Perfect. 'HELP! HELP!' he bellowed in his celebrated foghorn voice."
Foghorn Leghorn!
Kinda figured that constructive mood wouldn't last.
Oh pleeease pleasepleaseplease make a Foghorn Leghorn in this story! I love, I say, love Foghorn Leghorn! To death that is! Hee!
If it gets you to quite bugging me, then fine. I'll make a Foghorn Leghorn joke. But later. Okay?
"'There's an injured man in room 471! HELP!'
"Confused voices started up in thew other rooms immediately. He slammed the door and raced for the window. Then he paused. 'How much they pay you?'
"'Huh? Forty-four t'ousand. In halves. Vhy?'
"'Just checking my price tag.'
"'Vhere you goin'?'
"'Same way you got in, amigo. Ciao!'"
I'm tired. I think I'm gonna quit now.
The whole thing?
No, just for now. Until--
Oh, please can I say I say it this time?
Sigh. I guess. Go ahead.
Until next time, that was MetFanMac, signing off!

TODAY'S BOOK: "All Creatures Great and Small", by James Herriot ((c) 1972)


Wednesday, March 26, 2008


110th post

Those of you who actually follow this blog know that my strength lies in my drawing abilities. But would you have guessed that I can write, too? Neither did I, but the ISS was foolish enough to swallow that line and ran a two-part article by me on Spring Training 2008, with tongue planted firmly in cheek. Read all about my random thought on the AL and NL! Then, once you're done with that, feast your eyes on my post on FanIQ that predicts the upcoming season, written in the same vein.
Also, it's that time of year again.

TODAY'S BOOK: "My Turn At Bat: The Story of My Life", by Ted Williams and John Underwood ((c) 1969)

TODAY'S WEBSITE: Not an addition but a removal. Say goodbye to the stinky The Marvel Universe, meanwhile, gets a stay of execution for upgrading its layout.

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Wednesday, March 12, 2008


The rude bus driver

Asshat. That was the word that popped into my head, and there's no two ways around it, that's the most fitting description. The Asshat Driver.
I've never seen this driver before, and doubt I'll ever see him or his mangy bus again. But if I do, you can count on me moving in the opposite direction.
Today, on my regular route to the library, this driver was pulling out of a bus stop. Right then, a woman came puffing up alongside, trying to catch it before it left completely. Some other passengers on the starboard bow and I called "Driver, driver." as is traditionl to alert bus drivers to this sort of situation, but he just took it in through the side mirrors and drove on.
Well, up until a couple of bus stops later I was ready to give this fellow the benefit of the doubt. That is, until he pulled the same trick again on a young boy.
Some of my fellow passengers began to volubly question the bus driver's motives, and I personally counted off "two" on my fingers to myself. Evidently this rankled him, as he started hollering at the lot of us (and possibly me in particular--I had no intention of asking for clarification), because if he (paraphrasing) "started doing that then everybody and their grandmothers would soon be packing the bus."
Oh, puh-leaze. It was two lousy people, two people who had probably already started congratutalting themselves in their minds on overcoming their near-lateness. I've seen drivers refuse to pick up passengers when the passengers were begin to resemble sardines in a can, and more often actually accept more when the situation was even worse. This guy had a bus with plenty of legspace and, lacking the most basic common courtesy, he did not want to give it up.
As I disembarked, I resisted an urge to toss my apple core at his stupid head.

TODAY'S BOOK: "Rabble in Arms", by Kenneth Roberts ((c) 1933)


Tuesday, March 04, 2008



Have yourselves a random links dump.

Mets by the Numbers has finally returned to its old domain name, I actually hate the new layout, but it's got much more interesting articles now. Big negative: no player bios! Boo! A humorous little strip about the fictional five-year-old Georgie being, well, five. Updated once or twice a week. Like Mensa, only not boring, the mental_floss magazine entertains smartly, and its website is even more superlative, with tons upon tons of articles and lists added daily, with something for everyone. You also order one of their thought- and laugh-provoking shirts, as well as other products. The homepage of my favorite currently published comic strip, Zits joins as the fifth strip I read daily over the Internet. Facts about uberman Chuck Norris have become a staple Internet meme, and when reading through this site it's easy to see why. Norris gets the credit (and blame) for every act of manliness conceivable, and some that are also inconceivable. Follow my example and lose yourself in hours of fun, giggling like a maniac at gems like "Chuck Norris destroyed the periodic table, because he only recognizes the element of Surprise." I Can Has Cheezburger? replaces in the Links list due to it being of similar content, only better. And funnier. And bigger. And more variegated. If you want you can check out its sister websites too. Loads of fun. A humor website that updates a couple of times a week with fresh articles; the gimmick is that the site and its contents are patterned after comic-book supervillainy, down to the contributors' pen names (my personal favorite is Doktor Maxwell von Puppykicker the Third).

TODAY'S BOOK: "The Education of Little Tree", by Forrest Carter ((c) 1976)


Sunday, March 02, 2008


107th post

I spent nearly two and a half hours making this Four-of-a-Kind game for my brother's book report project on Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.
As a bonus, I present to you the latest cartoon to make it into the ShiurTimes!

Three political figures re-enact one of the most famous scenes in Megillat Esther: Olmert replaces Haman, Abbas replaces Mordechai, and Bush gets shoehorned in just to get the point across.

TODAY'S BOOK: "Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle", by Betty MacDonald ((c) 1947)


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