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KIROKAZE
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Misplaced Lens Cap
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if i look back, i am lost
hello vonnie
macklin celebrini has autism
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seen from Chile
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@fanficdumpster-blog
Recently, HarperCollins announced the publication of a new novel by famed author Harper Lee, who hasn't written a single book since 1960's To Kill a Mockingbird. While some would call this act the exploitation of an 88-year-old woman with a deteriorating mind, we at Something Awful are nonetheless proud to present an excerpt from this formerly lost manuscript that drops Mockingbird's cast of characters into the war-torn cyber future of 1999.
Seattle, 2015. 'He's ready to see you now,' says the well-dressed receptionist. I find myself wondering what she gets paid. Some people seem to get off on the constant presence of servile flunkies,...
She is the one...
A beautiful dream... Hannah wears a long flowing dress, in a castle... she's in the arms of a handsome prince, with shaggy hair and a big nose... she looks up at the sky, at... THE EARTH?"
The sound of a siren going by wakes up Hannah Horvath, asleep WAY past her alarm, naked and covered in tattoos, in her shabby chic brooklyn apartment.
Next thing you know she's running down the street, feet a blur, arms waving in the air.
"I'm laaaaaaaaaaaaaate!!!!!!!!!" she wailed, nearly running into lots of the kinds of people she'd find in Brooklyn, you know, bearded guys with handlebar mustaches riding bicycles she nearly knocks over. When all of a sudden she sees a tiny grey cat in her path!
"Iiiiiieeeee!" Hanna screams, as she trips over the cat and lands FLAT on her face. OUCH! Rubbing her head, she stands up, cross - but the cat is gone.
"That was weird."
At Grumpy's, she's late, again, of COURSE."
"You're late, again, of COURSE!" says the manager, "Hannah, Hannah, Hannah, what are we going to do with you? If I dock you any more pay, I might as well make you pay us!"
Hannah nods, "gomen, gomen!" and goes back to making an espresso drink. All of a sudden, an EXTREMELY handsome man comes in - it's Adam. They don't know each other in this world. She remembers him from the dream though. And gets a big smile on her face.
"Can I help you?" says Hannah with a big smile. Adam smirks.
"Probably not. I'm looking for a locally-traded, open-source coffee with notes of cherry and oak. Is the manager around? He usually helps me..."
Not to be deterred, Hannah steps up to the plate. "Our house espresso is great, why don't you try that?"
"I know what I like, and it's not that weak chocolate-noted garbage you give every tom, dick and harry that comes in off the street."
"You know, you might look like royalty, but you act like a real jerk!"
"Just give me a cold brew, to go."
Hannah harumphs and goes to the fridge to get the cold brew. She sees the cat again! And it's got a weird marking on it's head... a gold upside-down moon... she reaches out and it glows... and runs away!
"Was that a cat?" Adam asks incrediously
"Don't worry about it. Here's your cold brew. You know, if you were a little nicer to people you'd probably be happier." Hannah says taking his cash.
"And you'd probably be happier if you didn't tell people how to live their lives." And with that he whooshed out.
~~~tO bE cOnTiNuEd~~~
Just another day... ^_^
The click-clacking of keyboards and the endless hum of the printer make the room feel almost cozy, even if the overhead lights are glaring. On his computer screen, Dwight inputs and double-checks his numbers for the month. It's a slow day. The phone rings; he perks up, glancing to the right but sagging as Jim picks up his line--of course. It's for Jim.
"Dunder Mifflin, this is Jim speaking," he says in that easy voice, leaning back in his chair. Everything is easy for Jim. He's relaxed, athletic, always affecting a quiet lean. Dwight can see the contours of his shoulders through his button down shirt. He's not ripped, but his lean, defined muscles, grazed by fabric, suit him.
"You know what, I'm not sure if we have it available right now at this branch, but if you give me a moment to bring up our corporate inventory..." Jim leans forward now, peering at his computer screen. Now in his line of sight, he catches Dwight looking and almost smiles with furrowed brow, cocking his head askance. It's an innocent, curious look. Dwight, caught, reddens, mouthing "Go to hell" before returning to his work, typing furiously now, pulling his chair closer to his desk to hide... nothing, nothing at all. Out of the corner of his eye he notices Jim shrugging and going back to the call.
"I'm sorry, what was that?" Jim asks. He seems flustered for a moment but Dwight imagines it was all in his imagination.
There was a time he used to think otherwise. In the early days, when the two were friends, and rivals, with petty bickering that escalated from time to time. But Dwight could swear he'd catch Jim watching him, just for a second, with that same curious look, as if wondering what it would be like if they were somewhere else, perhaps on a business trip, or spending a night in the country.
He knew he was wrong the moment he noticed Pam staring moon-faced at Jim for the first time. And Jim fell for it, hook, line, even the damn sinker. But now she was at home, with child again, and suddenly it was like old times for the two of them. "Don't get too comfortable," Dwight warns himself.
"What did you say?" Jim asks, replacing the phone on the cradle. Dwight's heart freezes as he realizes he said it out loud.
"Nothing, I didn't say anything," Dwight replies, typing a little too hard, shaking the keyboard.
"I'm pretty sure you said something," Jim needles, a wicked grin on his face. Dwight melts a little at the look, then shifts his facial features into a scowl.
"You're hearing things," he declares, daring Jim to continue. Trying to ignore the stirring inside as Jim smiles at him, their eyes locked for a moment, silent, as if two tigers ready to do battle or... but Jim shrugs and goes back to his work. Dwight's gaze lingers a moment longer. There was something he recognized in that smile. Something he hadn't seen in a long time.
Distopian Future Family Chapter 1.0
The tired, weary Pritchett and Dunphy families mill about the square, awaiting the drawing of names. The Reaping is a dark day for the the whole district and especially for such a large family with so many eligible kids. Claire kisses each of her children on the head.
"Mom, come on!" Haley says, pushing her mother away, completely oblivious to the tears in her mom's eyes as she tries to avoid the stares of a heartbroken Dylan across the square. "Ugh" mutters Haley.
Meanwhile Luke and Manny are still buzzing over the announcement that this year kids as young as three will be considered for the games.
"This is a tragedy!," moans Manny, "If I'd known I wouldn't have skipped gym class to hang out at the library all those times!"
Luke on the other hand is thrilled.
"I bet Dad would finally let me use his ninja sword if I got in! Awesome!" Phil, overhearing his son's excitement, leans down to whisper to him.
"Technically, son, it's a katana, or samurai sword… but yes, if the worst possible outcome of all of our lives happens and you are chosen to compete, you can borrow it," He reconsiders, remembering the last time Luke borrowed something from Phil it was his iPad and Luke thought it would be awesome to watch movies underwater with it. Luckily then the iPad 2 came out and actually since this is the postapocolyptic future it was probably the iPad 25 or something. But you probably could use that underwater. So it was an antique iPad, very valuable, and Luke destroyed it.
"…Maybe you can borrow it," Phil finishes, a tear welling up in his eye, "I really miss that iPad sometimes!" he quietly moans.
The Capitol spokesperson is finally about to the names from the reaping balls and the crowd retreats into a loud hush. Even Mitchell and Cam stop their hilarious bantering about fashion choices and gender roles to listen.
"And from District 8, the male tribute shall be… Dylan Morris!"
Dylan strides up to the stage, guitar in hand, and calls out to the audience, "Haley, this is for you! I'm going to survive and come back to you because… I love you!"
Haley, meanwhile, hides behind Phil, who's weeping.
"You go get em, D-Money!" he cheers. Meanwhile, Manny is about to say something to Luke but then they can't talk because both are smothered by their mom's tears and boob-y hugs.
"And the female tribute shall be… Lily Tucker-Pritchett!"
Cam and Mitchell are frozen, and the whole family gasps. This was totally unexpected.
Alex, who has been needling Haley over Dylan's puppy-love antics, hisses in her sister's ear, "You need to take her place, Haley! With Dylan to protect you, and a love story to win over sponsorship from viewers in the Capitol, you might be able to… well, not win but at least stay alive for a couple of minutes…" Haley snorts.
"Are you kidding?" she says, flicking her hair, "Like I want to spend one more second with Dylan. We're done, Alex. Duh." Alex rolls her eyes.
"You know they give you a makeover, right?" she suggests. Haley looks up from texting on her sidekick for a second and considers it.
"Mmmmm… nah," she decides.
Alex watches Mitchell and Cam weep over their little girl and she can't take it anymore.
"I shall take her place in the--" Alex declares loudly, cut off by her mother's hand over her mouth.
"I will not have my only baby who's going to college get murdered on live television!" she hisses as Alex struggles against her hand.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Call me Sitch: Chapter I
Shane and Rick looked up from digging the grave of a fallen comrade. The hot southern sun beat against their sweaty foreheads. From somewhere beyond the place where the road dipped below the horizon leaving only those wiggly heat lines came a familiar, yet alien sound. It was the sound of a car, but louder, with it, the sound of amazing club beats, harkening back to a time where maybe that sweat wouldn't come from the insatiable sun but from a long night of partying pretty hard.
As the sound grows louder, Rick squinted, finally seeing a vehicle coming over the horizon. It was a minivan which is converted to a cab, but it looks to be on it's last legs. Or wheels.
"You seeing this?" he said to Shane, who squints too.
Shane's only reply is clicking the safety off his sidearm. Another threat… just what they need today.
The van slows as it approaches; someone inside turns down the music. It weaves dangerously on the road and comes to a stop, gently scraping the paint off the side of the shitty SL1 Shane found and has been working on.
As the van stops, a weird, new sound comes from inside, different from any of the walkers or humans they've heard before. It sounds like a baby's whine but monotone, like someone is reading aloud the phonetic spelling out of the sound. A tiny, orange girl with a torn black dress and sunglasses that have a necklace on them falls out of the front seat. She seems to have heat stroke or perhaps vertigo. From the other door, a greasy, tanned dude with a gnarly fade with a big swirl in it but it's kinda growing out but you can still see it, anyway he gets out.
Rick draws his gun.
Shane's hand quivers over his weapon for a moment, then drops, his whole posture suddenly changing as realization dawns across his scarred face.
"Mike? That you?" Rick looks from his partner to the greasy italian guy and back again. He's shocked as the two of them suddenly embrace, a manly embrace of two muscular dudes fiercely holding each other. They pull apart and Shane turns to Rick, eyes furiously lit up like two streetlights in the world we used to live in.
"Rick this is my cousin from back east… Mike," Shane says proudly. Mike smirks, putting a hand out to shake.
"But you can just call me Sitch."