Stories from Bucket

Stories, thoughts and general ramblings from a boy in Wisconsin.

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Harry Potter and the Looping Run Cycle

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Introducing the TX-41! He’s colorful, he’s small and he can do little tasks for you!

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Last night I was inspired to redo a loop of Harry running. I also got real funky with the glow and blur effects on Adobe Animate.

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This is another version of Hagrid I did with more squash and stretch. My goal is to just keep getting sillier.

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My girlfriend commissioned this piece of a girl cartwheeling. I call her Izzy, and she’s missing a tooth.

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Here’s Harry and Hagrid walking off to Diagon Alley, where little Harry is a little aprehensive. To do this, I broke apart my images of Harry in Adobe Animate, cut him out and added it to Hagrid’s canvas. Looking back, Harry would really have to run to keep up with our BFG, but I still like it.

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I spent the last week working on this walk cycle for Hagrid. It’s 48 frames on 2s, which is the longest thing I’ve ever drawn, but I really wanted to convey his size and lumbering gait.

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Whenever you tell a fantasy story, you get to think about what magic actually looks like. Apparently, my idea of magic is just psychadelic disco.

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I’ve been messing around with character design. I call this one “Kissy Face Harry.”

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Hey, this is from my other, active account. If you’re still on Tumbl, then come on over and have some fun!

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A Tale from Camp-My Name

Some of you may be rather confused by my title and name on this blog.  Well, it is a delightful story that I shall share with you.  

A long time ago, when I was a wee lad of twelve I went to camp for the first time.  I think it was twelve.  I actually had to stop and think about it for a second.  Well, I went to a church camp called Music, Arts and Drama camp.  I do love all three, so it was a natural attraction to sign up for this place.  My first year I went with my sister and some friends of ours, both siblings.  It is a wonderful place.  Though my sibling and friends did not, I went back to this camp for four more years afterwards.  It is a place very dear to my heart and something I hope to write more and more about.

Anyways, as you can very well guess, the name Bucket came from this place.  I suppose it all started when I was packing for camp.  I really didn't know how to pack when I was twelve.  I still don't know how to pack.  I had the bare essentials of what I needed and everything that was mentioned on the list of supplies.  Is that how you pack, because experience has told me otherwise.  I am the youngest of four so I look up to my brothers and sister for direction whenever I can.  Notably, my oldest brother got a hat very similar to this:

  from NASA.  It was only natural that I follow his lead and wear a hat just like it.  Besides, it is a camping hat anyways, isn't it?  I found a hat just like it, though it wasn't the NASA one, and jammed it on my head prior to exiting my house.  That's a good packing tip.  If you feel like grabbing one last item before walking out the door, do it.  Unless it's a bad idea.  Then don't do it.

As it turns out, this was a very good idea.  Upon arriving at camp, I quickly discovered that I, and my companions, were among the younger at camp.  The age group extended from middle school to high school.  I had never been in such a group before.  There were people from all over the state, from all ages, that I didn't know.  So, needless to say, in the beginning, I was a bit shy.  That is why I welcomed compliments about my hat.  In that first day at camp, a counselor called it a bucket hat and the name stuck.  My name was Bucket from then on.

I do love the hat and the nickname.  I have worn that hat every year I've gone to camp.  I don't actually wear it any other time of year.  It's something special.  And no one outside of camp really calls me Bucket.  It's a nice way of greeting camp friends I haven't seen in a long time.  It's like a code word.  I bet spies feel the same way when they hear a code word.

"... Isis."

"Hello, friend!"

When I am not at camp, the hat is on my bedpost.  Just a happy reminder.  My other bedpost is wearing a fedora.  So, now you know the origin of my tumblr name.  And to my friends from camp who are reading this: Thank you for my nickname.

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Butterscotch Pudding

My late night snack of choice.

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High up in the apple tree climbing I go, With the sky above me, the earth below. Each branch is the step of a wonderful stair Which leads to the town I see shining up there. Climbing, climbing, higher and higher, The branches blow and I see a spire, The gleam of a turret, the glint of a dome, All sparkling and bright, like white sea foam. On and on, from bough to bough, The leaves are thick, but I push my way through; Before, I have always had to stop, But to-day I am sure I shall reach the top. Today to the end of the marvelous stair, Where those glittering pinacles flash in the air! Climbing, climbing, higher I go, With the sky close above me, the earth far below.

Verses for Children, A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass, Amy Lowell

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Fedora Wednesday #1 Bat, Man, and Robin

A bat had broken into the office.  The Big News Story that was going to catapult the NewYork Moon from twelfth to third place was missing along with a suspicious reporter.  Is it a coincidence or are the two connected?  The air was thick with the case that our hero, the keen Fedora Wednesday, was itching to get to the bottom of.

Part 3-Drinks with the Suspect and Peppi

  Can anyone actually tell me what happened?  Serously-" Fedora stood in the doorway.  The office had turned back into a beehive with reporters buzzing everywhere.  The sun shone brightly throught the blinds on all the windows.  Though the window was tinted, Fedora could make out a dark object in the chief's office, bouncing off all the walls.

"You're a creaser- what are you doing on this floor?" Alice Cummings used the slang term for paper folders.  She wasn't rude- she was quick and to the point.  She had a new cup of coffe and her brow was furrowed.  Fedora got right to the point.

"Well, I was walking down the road this morning-"

"Hey, I'm not looking for a backstory.  We're rather busy at the moment, as you can see.  What do you need?" Alice Cummings raised her eyebrows and took a long draught of coffee.

"The name's Wednesday.  Fedora-"

  "Quicker."

"I need a job.  My investigative talents are going to waste in the paper room.  I'm a reporter, Ms. Cummings, a dang good one too.  This paper can easily be fifth- maybe even fourth.  You need me." Fedora hadn't a clue what he was saying.  Alice Cummings sighed and put one hand on her hip.

"You have made surprising timing.  This paper has never needed an investigative reporter- until just about three minutes ago.  Alright, creaser.  We've had our Big News Story go missing.  Possibly stolen.  If you can recover it before we can, I'll give you a chance.  One story.  Then we'll see after that."

"HR, I need you to proodread that story on the Farwood Apartments."

"Yes, yes.  We need to get back to work.  You can start by finding Frank Dirowitz." She walked away.

"Who's Frank Dirowitz?"

Fedora Wednesday had a case.  With the minimal information required, he rushed out of the room to solve the mystery of the missing Big News Story.  He had to find a missing man.  Fedora knew just the guy to go to...

Peppi Stanwick was a paperboy for the New York Moon.  He lived in an apartment with his mother and seven sisters.  The boy was only twelve years old but he provided for all of them, with his job at the New York Moon.

"Mister Wednesday, you're late today.  I was beginning to worry you'd fallen down a grate or somethin'-" Peppi Stanwick was the quickest paper folder in Manhatten and Brooklyn.  "Nice Hat, by the way."

"There's no time for menial chat, Peppi.  I'm an investigative reporter now-"

"Well, good for you, Mister Wednesday." There was a pause.

"Yes, and I need your help on a case.  I need help finding somebody.  Do you know who Frank Dirowitz is?" Peppi Stanwick was a paperboy.  Peppi Stanwick knew everbody.

"Sure I do, Mister Wednesday.  Frank Dirowitz works as a reporter upstairs.  He usually covers baseball games but he occasionally does special events.  He lives in Brooklyn but he is rarely ever at home.  He's 6' 3" with brown hair and brown eyes.  Frank Dirowitz gets his suits in Manhatten but has them tailored in Queens.  Oh, and he is currently dating the beautiful Dolly Hall, the receptionist." Peppi had folded close to thirty papers during his explantation.  

"Then I must see Dolly Hall- will you join me, Peppi?" Fedora Wednesday asked.

"Sure, Mister Wednesday.  I finished my quota for this week a month ago- I will tell you though- I don't work for free."

Upon establishing a fee, Fedora and Peppi made their way up to the reception.  The entrance to the New York Moon was an impressive one, with several chairs and a large Moon behind the front desk- the logo for the newspaper.  Dolly Hall was a blonde women with curls and a romance novel in a drawer below her desk.  She was just packing up to leave.

"On your way out, Ms. Hall?" Fedora asked sauvely.  Dolly picked up her purse and smiled.

"I'm on my way out for lunch.  I'm meeting someone." Fedora thought quickly on his feet.

"Can we come, too?"

They went to a bar called Smithy's.  It was a more high class joint than Fedora was used to, but he got used to it quickly.  The bar was cozily lit with a card table in the corner.  The bartender was busy mixing up drinks and calling back orders for food.  The room was filled with various lunch goers.  Dolly walked in and looked around.

"Over here, baby." Frank Dirowitz was a broad shouldered man with a hat pulled low over his brow.  He sat with cool relaxation in a booth towards the back of the bar. They sat down with him.  Dolly kissed him on the cheek, which he coolly ignored.

"Did you steal the Big News Story?" It was Fedora's first day on the job.

  "Dolly, dear, why don't you go order us some sandwiches.  They make a mean club here.  Us men will stay here and be- genial." Dolly looked rather worried but she complied to Frank's suggestion.  Fedora stared at Frank and waited.

  "Funny you mention that Big News Story.  I knew no good would come from it.  Is it so awful for them to stay at the bottom of the charts?  No, It's a good paper, but the top's not where they belong." Dolly brought them back drinks and a chocolate milk for Peppi.  Dolly went back to wait for the sandwiches.  "A Big News Story like that belongs in a big newspaper." Fedora's mind clicked.

"The kind of newspaper that would pay through the nose for a Big News Story like that?" Fedora asked.  Frank Dirowitz narrowed his eyes.

"What are you suggesting?" Frank took a drink from his glass without removing his eyes from Fedora.  Peppi sensed danger.

"Mister Dirowitz, you are a smart guy.  I've seen the stuff you write.  It's good work-"  Fedora interrupted Peppi.

"-but I suppose pride has the tendency to sour in the right conditions.  All you needed was the right moment." Frank Narrowed his eyes more.

"Are you honestly suggesting I stole the Moon's only Big News Story for the last decade?  That I left some kind of distraction, swiped the only copy they had and left work to sell it to some other newspaper?" Frank Dirowitz laughed, a great laugh.  "What a ridiculous thing to propose!  Not a soul at the Moon would have the guts to do that- except me I guess!" Frank Dirowitz laughed some more.  In spite of himself, Fedora smiled.

"Well, I suppose it does seem a trifle outlandish-" Peppi kicked Fedora under the table.  Fedora continued "But I would like some evidence against the claim-"

"Later, later.  Right now, we eat!" Dolly brought over the sandwiches and smiled to see Frank in such a good mood.  "Thanks, doll!"  They all started eating their mean clubs.

"You have any hobbies, Mister Dirowitz?" Peppi asked politely.

"Oh, tell them, Frank!  Tell them about what you do on the weekends!" Dolly Hall said excitedly.  Frank was preoccupied with a rather large bite.  "Oh, you!  He goes to the zoo every weekend and cares for bats!"

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Fedora Wednesday #1-Bat, Man, and Robin

There was pandemonium on the writing floor.

Part 2-The Chief's Dilemma

The newly bedecked Fedora Wednesday stepped off the elevator and adjusted his hat.  Shouts were coming from down the hall where all the reporters were situated.  Cries of distress could clearly be heard but Fedora's blind determination also made him deaf.  He was going to march right in there and ask for a job as an investigative reporter!

Fedora entered the room just in time to see Chief Editor, Mr. Clyde Berkhardt, slam his door shut.  Papers littered the floor and people were standing around.  Something had obviously happened here- One of the writers exclaimed:

"Chief, what do you-"

"Just don't go in there, OK!  I've called animal control.  They'll be here soon."  Mr. Berkhardt backed away from the door.  He was a stout man with a combover and a bristling mustache that quivered when he spoke.

"Chief, your hand!"  A female dropped her third cup of coffee that day and started forward.  It was Alice Cummings, head reporter.  Berkhardt looked down at his hand to find it bleeding, a heavy red substance.

"Blasted bat!" he clasped his hand.

"Chief, you've got to get yourself to a hospital.  Bats can give you rabies.  See, my cousin-"  the writer was cut short from his long story about his cousin, Ted.

"Confound it!  Alice, you're in charge.  While I'm gone, find Frank Dirowitz.  I don't trust his absence." the chief doubled comically over and rushed out of the room, right past our protagonist.  Mere seconds had passed before a lowly editor rushed into the room.

"The Big News Story that was going to make us a prominent newspaper is gone!"

"Did I miss something?" Fedora Wednesday asked suavely.

"Find Frank Dirowitz." Alice Cummings said.

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A history video made for a history class.  I now realize we could have said anything about the Civil War we wanted to in this movie, since we claimed it to be a primary source- though, I don't think we'd have gotten as good of a grade...

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Fedora Wednesday #1-Bat, Man, and Robin

It’s the stunning adventures of Fedora Wednesday, hat-wearing extraordinaire!  This week we see him turn from his mild-mannered paper folding life at the New York Moon and turn to a life of crime solving and investigating!  Tune in, to find out about the bat problem at the Moon, itself, and where Fedora got that hat!  Meet the vile Ilric Vedetine, his nemesis, as The Vile Impostor!  There’s never a dull moment with Fedora Wednesday!

Part 1-Hats and Jobs

It was a brilliant day in New York City.  Streets were bustling with the good feeling of the Roaring Twenties.  The sun gleamed off every building.  The blue sky had hardly a wisp of cloud in it and the air smelt of pastries and raspberries, depending on the street you were on.  Fellows passed strangers on the street with a tip of their hat and ladies passed lampposts with hardly the same attitude.  It was New York!

And on one of these illustrious streets walked the cool, calm, Mark Arthur Wednesday.  His head was bare, having left his cap at home today.  He had the longer haircut of a ballplayer, reaching almost an inch at some points.  He had contemplated his cap a long while before going out, remembering his mothers words:

"Wear your hat or your head's going to freeze until it'll be encased in an iceberg!"  She was a lovely woman.

Mark Arthur walked down the street without a care in the world.  He was on his way to his job at the New York Moon, the most under-appreciated newspaper in all of New York.  His job was tedious and time consuming but Mark Arthur did his paper folding job well.  He whistled a happy tune as he walked down the streets of New York.

Then!  Suddenly!  Out of the blue came an object blowing off a high wind!  It spiraled through the air and deposited itself lightly upon Mark Arthur's bare head-

"What's this?" he exclaimed.  "Can anyone tell me what just blew onto my head?" he asked the street at large.  "Anyone?"

"Take it off and look at it, you fool!" a man grumbled as he slouched past.  Mark Arthur complied.

"It's a fedora-" just then, Mark Arthur was seized by an overwhelming sense of destiny.  A hat had blown right out of the sky and onto his head, of all the people on the street.  Mark Arthur knew right then what he was going to do from that day forward- He was going to be the investigative reporter that he was meant to be.  That's why, when he walked into the New York Moon's front doors, he didn't turn toward the factory, but to the receptionist.

"How are you today, Mark Arthur?" the beautiful Dolly Hall asked.  He gave a flourish of the hat-

"It's Fedora." he said-and put it on.  "Fedora Wednesday."

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Hello?

Hello?  This is a test.  This is a test blog.  I am writing on account of my arrival on the website.  You are reading said test.  The fact that you can read it is a good indicator that I successfully posted something on the blog...