T-kun Unusual Wordsmith III

I know this man has talent,

Has a voice of command and laughter,

With a straight face . . . a joke is told and you can’t help but laugh,

With how big a star he dreams deeply about,

He is only knows as ALEX,

For an uncomplicated individual he is,

But with big ideas of going far!

THE one thing I have notice of him,

Is that he’s friend,

That wants to go far just as anyone else,

There is not a moment of doubt about it.

And if I had to think of word to describe him besides friend,

With just maybe one letter such as D,

It would be . . .

Dependable,

Delightful,

Devoted,

And Decent to others and his work,

He’s an awesome guy;

You shouldn’t miss out on,

I’m glad I didn’t.

I know this man has talent,

Has a voice of command and laughter,

With a straight face . . . a joke is told and you can’t help but laugh,

With how big a star he dreams deeply about,

He is only knows as ALEX,

For an uncomplicated individual he is,

But with big ideas of going far!

THE one thing I have notice of him,

Is that he’s friend,

That wants to go far just as anyone else,

There is not a moment of doubt about it.

And if I had to think of word to describe him besides friend,

With just maybe one letter such as D,

It would be . . .

Dependable,

Delightful,

Devoted,

And Decent to others and his work,

He’s an awesome guy;

You shouldn’t miss out on,

I’m glad I didn’t.

They call it romantic to the ears.

A pleasant way to express oneself, when speaking is hard to do, I don’t see it.

Never had, never will!

Nor understand of how it has been known as classic statement of life.

That’s a joke!

A horror joke, which makes one or maybe all fall into this plot of it, that again it’s wonderful speech of life!

I will never fall for it.

Learn its steps never to be.

If I want express myself,

I’ll use words, from my lips; compose of full lines and paragraphs, for I am not lazy!

If I someone who is lovely, I’ll say it, not waste words on nonsense to explain why, is a pathetic way.

When or where it’s brought up, I’ll walk from it, for it’s a style of life . . . no one needs.

I may come across of despising it.

But really, it’s a fear of it, like a hex is being cast through it.

Not for these ears!

Nor will hands do it or eyes read it.

For it’s a poison!

A vice enchantment of words to spell bind people, I know it is.

Be as me and fear it, before it grips hold of you in its short-live composing form.

Metrophobia

Fear of Poetry

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Is it wrong to not being able to control of all emotions, that runs through the body; unable to understand the outcomes of them.

As they just run through, upon the senses outside the skin; react what’s within.

So such again; what does it mean, for those or all . . . who can’t control them?

A sign of weakness, that relies being human; or to that of an abnormal mastermind?

A weakness; a strength, which on is it they we all done in verves?

Question upon question, no straight answers; not even wacky kind to be seen.

Shock of this, comes blindly to thee; as that as sleeping on the cold sun.

Tears fall in frustration, randomly and welcoming; a degree where it’s a squadron sickness.

To feel nothing, comes in all; but a reaction . . . nothing more nor less.

We fall and break, form and bend; flesh is the rubber band about to break from stress.

In a snap it’s done for, just as emotion; snap and done for.

It’s out of ours . . . if one thinks it, holding it and let it play; control is something that has rule book.

A rule book that is easy misread, misused; to even be burned if coming to it.

Following it or not, relies on the owner; to let them run you or bind you.

Is the band breaks, is it for the better; or so that we are all dumb as we come off as?

Everyone wants to become something,

Be it for livelihood,

For fun,

Or to just say they did it.

In this case,

Someone comes to mind,

That what they want to become,

Is because of passion . . .

Yes,

It’s for the livelihood,

The fun,

And just to say one did it,

But not this person,

They want to develop into this,

Because they love it!

They love it so much,

Their name has what they want to befall.

That name is,

HedonisticActor,

Now in question,

What part of this person’s name is his passion?

Actor,

A straightforward fact,

By far from his work I have seen,

It’s in him,

He can do it,

No sheer of a doubt.

A wild actor he is,

For there is challenges,

This man sees and takes them on.

Again,

In only a few things I have seem do something,

And he’s got it.

What more to say,

But,

Good luck when you walk on that red carpet,

For that’s a well earned reward.

Just don’t forget us!

One thing that could,

Ever be,

Rushing through one’s head,

Is that . . .

Are __________ cut to being or becoming _________?

An undemanding thought of question,

To,

Some people out in the world . . .

A flipping mystery misery,

That could end the world,

To others mind!

But again,

It’s a question,

None the less as it is,

So hear me out on this.

For you to ask,

If someone was to ask you,

What you did,

Why you do it,

Who you come across as,

Or maybe the last one,

What does it classify you?

As a joke,

Someone asked it,

A response was given,

And the final reply was . . .

An empty writer,

Not cut for it,

And rethink some life choices,

As something won’t keep daily life stable . . .

Refutation or not,

That is right to come degree,

That is right,

But at the same time wrong.

But to only of how far you can throw that person,

It is just how long the denial can last . . .

And in time,

Giving in is an outcome.

I choose not to,

Not yet,

And I wouldn’t want anyone to give up too,

If a reply as it is not for you,

Prove them wrong,

As best as you can,

Before throwing in the cards late into the game!

Show them up,

Take a bit of pride into,

And live it up,

As life is only once,

Your life is only once,

Make something of it.

Don’t let others say you’re not . . .

Edgy enough,

Dark enough,

Bouncy enough,

Multi-handler enough,

Don’t let those words be what makes you,

Only a part of you!

If they call you something that makes others leaves,

Such as bland,

Empty,

Uncreative,

Rip-off,

Attention seeker.

That’s only because they read the index of the book,

Not the first chapter,

Nor maybe just a few pages . . .

If others can’t see,

That’s how shallow others have become,

No open minds to see it,

Only blinded by what they like,

For that’s how focus groups work.

Not on letting it play on and see what happens,

If low enough,

It’s gone.

How else of other things still around,

Because of the index of life,

And with a lot of books,

Good and bad,

Throw away because of just because . . .

Because what?

I don’t know.

That’s just how some answer,

When you ask a question of why they like it . . .

Just because . . .

A reason could be at the end of it,

But never is,

Just blank,

Just as everything else in the world,

Because,

That’s how shallowness works in today’s life. . .

Skin-deep knowing of the index,

And a waste of pages no one bother to read.

Love whatever good about life now,

Because it’s thinning out,

Each passing day that becomes night,

And revise.

Now excuse me,

As this empty and shameless writer:

Who is only seeking attention and is nothing but a rip-off of others,

Needs to get things done,

That new series isn’t going to start itself!

Splashes skip; crashing against the steel, rumbling away in scar marks that as peeling flesh centimeter by centimeter.

Structuring unnatural waves, riling the life below in excitement, wandering with thrill and thinning but lasting fear of what this beast could be, as it was not close to what the norm has seen.

Dolphins racing it, coming along side it, dashing away they all did, in some ways trying to have the common swimmer to join in their play, but alas, only kept forward.

Some didn’t mind and followed or darted ahead. With dimming shadows of finned animals leaping into the open air above, heading them farther and taking full look as to what the unknown top could give.

With a meter or so back, a smaller, steel swimmer was sputtering along, with the after waves rocking it, to that matching a mother’s seal caressing to its pup.

Fading traces of the large creatures settled soon into the ocean.

With the eyes blow, kept up watching, not as so daring as the fellow divers, with night coming, all this would change, from its web ceruleans, sallow, teal, sea foam, leaving nothing but the small life to bring light, an omit light navy hint with jaded-emerald glowing the lines of life around, even to the bobbies that among the curvy impressions of eternal, mysterious waters.

For what is beyond the wet sky, the airy sky vestiges indefinite, for only the imagination to do.

As thus, with this large, cooling metal of sliver rock, push onward, to where itself knows of that location, that some could dream to do, with little words, hoping this one makes it, as these waves, were some of the few, some don’t wish to travel, as demoniacs don’t share the fair, as does maybe the wildlife down below.

The tangle webs the sea will give to those not fit for this world. Only left to survive and carry on as if nothing went wrong.

And maybe, just maybe never return and foolish to think, another attempt could be done, the lives of the brittle bones that make the sands, would think of the injustice that is, to waste such a life, barely grown.

But, sadly, that is not world not all understand, as the big blue many think they do, when all answers come only heard, seen, and felt as fables.

(Dolphins) in Phosphorescent Sea by Maurits Cornelis “M. C.” Escher

Made in the year 1923

Location when painted; varies areas of Netherlands

1000 words can’t express what has changed thus far,

Speaking as only one soul,

Looking past of what has happen,

And show some kind of emotion.

Where in others want to gaze as steel,

Frozen forever,

Unmovable but not close that as,

The noble Iron Man,

For we are only human!

Just closing our eyes,

And sleep,

Just go back to sleep,

Go on counting the bodies like sheep,

And forget it all,

As to seen as a horrific dream of vinegary awareness . . .

Becoming closer to verve,

But far from imagination of endless coyness,

What an evil game it has become.

Straightforward theater settings;

Just as girls being them,

And boys will be boys,

Simple but a fact,

Of being themselves with less of the freedom,

To do so!

Hearing nothing but,

Mordred’s Lullaby drowning,

Choking,

Sparing nothing but the ashes of,

Death at its worst,

But it’s most welcoming greeting.

Just as looking to futuristic flights,

Of airplanes covering the sky,

Going places,

The few and golden get to do,

As if mindless and warping routine.

Following the streaks left behind,

Ending up to oddly,

Boundlessly lose yourself,

To join the dances of the thin lines,

Of morphing pale clouds . . .

Crying to skies for all to hear,

“Don’t mess with me”,

To deaf ears that care little,

But maybe just one or two,

Heard?

Don’t you worry child,

In time,

Something is to come,

Anything at your fingertips!

Forgetting all of the spring setback sore,

Summertime sadness,

Autumn animosity,

And wintry weather wantonness,

That follows close behind every passing year.

Leaving little else left to do,

Is just counting stars,

And hoping for something,

Anything . . .

An uprising that would be change,

But only known as a dream,

To some that are called fools.

Children that have become untouchable on the bare,

Just as my skin,

Unwanted or lack the need for care,

For it wasn’t made for them.

Shattered heart,

Swelling eyes,

Tried body of the fail and

The numbing useless!

But not this time,

Right here and right now,

A change is to come!

So come little children,

Who was as been seen in nothing but a dark superfluous light . . .

And make something happen.

The need to become stronger,

Is now or never,

Companions!

Let them know,

The last to know,

Of what you can do!

Do not think of this in vain,

For there is always,

Always,

Somebody to die for,

Beyond yourself!

Following nights to come,

You’re going down in history,

For all to remember from that day onward!

Release what is holding you back,

That she-demon,

Let her go,

And embrace what is left,

What is central you.

It’s never too late,

To make a change,

You just need a start.

Make the memoires,

Make the future.

You want to be happy?

You have to make that happiness,

On your own;

With words and actions,

No one can do but you.

March on as the diluted,

Unforgettable,

Pink elephants on parade!

Break free,

Don’t become a cannibal,

Such as me!

A troublemaker to some,

Who was found less of a bother . . .

I believe in chances as they didn’t,

Those chances are you,

Make them,

Please . . .

For all the things I’ve done,

Make only sense for them not to die.

Having the bodies scatter the ground,

And show no remorse to those,

Who wanted nothing more than insipidness . . .

They want a world of rubble,

All the people to act as mindless,

And disposable,

Like a zombie.

I already see that waving flag.

As my last exhale to you,

The game changers to this world,

I’m very glad you came,

Just in time . . .

1000 words can’t express what has changed thus far,

Speaking as only one soul,

Looking past of what has happen,

And show some kind of emotion.

Where in others want to gaze as steel,

Frozen forever,

Unmovable but not close that as,

The noble Iron Man,

For we are only human!

Just closing our eyes,

And sleep,

Just go back to sleep,

Go on counting the bodies like sheep,

And forget it all,

As to seen as a horrific dream of vinegary awareness . . .

Becoming closer to verve,

But far from imagination of endless coyness,

What an evil game it has become.

Straightforward theater settings;

Just as girls being them,

And boys will be boys,

Simple but a fact,

Of being themselves with less of the freedom,

To do so!

Hearing nothing but,

Mordred’s Lullaby drowning,

Choking,

Sparing nothing but the ashes of,

Death at its worst,

But it’s most welcoming greeting.

Just as looking to futuristic flights,

Of airplanes covering the sky,

Going places,

The few and golden get to do,

As if mindless and warping routine.

Following the streaks left behind,

Ending up to oddly,

Boundlessly lose yourself,

To join the dances of the thin lines,

Of morphing pale clouds . . .

Crying to skies for all to hear,

“Don’t mess with me”,

To deaf ears that care little,

But maybe just one or two,

Heard?

Don’t you worry child,

In time,

Something is to come,

Anything at your fingertips!

Forgetting all of the spring setback sore,

Summertime sadness,

Autumn animosity,

And wintry weather wantonness,

That follows close behind every passing year.

Leaving little else left to do,

Is just counting stars,

And hoping for something,

Anything . . .

An uprising that would be change,

But only known as a dream,

To some that are called fools.

Children that have become untouchable on the bare,

Just as my skin,

Unwanted or lack the need for care,

For it wasn’t made for them.

Shattered heart,

Swelling eyes,

Tried body of the fail and

The numbing useless!

But not this time,

Right here and right now,

A change is to come!

So come little children,

Who was as been seen in nothing but a dark superfluous light . . .

And make something happen.

The need to become stronger,

Is now or never,

Companions!

Let them know,

The last to know,

Of what you can do!

Do not think of this in vain,

For there is always,

Always,

Somebody to die for,

Beyond yourself!

Following nights to come,

You’re going down in history,

For all to remember from that day onward!

Release what is holding you back,

That she-demon,

Let her go,

And embrace what is left,

What is central you.

It’s never too late,

To make a change,

You just need a start.

Make the memoires,

Make the future.

You want to be happy?

You have to make that happiness,

On your own;

With words and actions,

No one can do but you.

March on as the diluted,

Unforgettable,

Pink elephants on parade!

Break free,

Don’t become a cannibal,

Such as me!

A troublemaker to some,

Who was found less of a bother . . .

I believe in chances as they didn’t,

Those chances are you,

Make them,

Please . . .

For all the things I’ve done,

Make only sense for them not to die.

Having the bodies scatter the ground,

And show no remorse to those,

Who wanted nothing more than insipidness . . .

They want a world of rubble,

All the people to act as mindless,

And disposable,

Like a zombie.

I already see that waving flag.

As my last exhale to you,

The game changers to this world,

I’m very glad you came,

Just in time . . .

As I said before,

She’s a pixie,

Jumpy and likeable!

In some ways,

There is some comparing that we are alike,

But take different routes in what we love,

When it might be the same thing . . .

Another pair of eyes,

Really she is,

In seeing the confessions,

Unlock able and time warping plots,

That is fiction made by fans.

Stating now,

She has more guts than anyone else,

Able to post what she feels like,

Little care of what’s to come,

To what I see at least,

That is.

Her defenses might come up,

But only for that she’s ready to give,

The hidden answers to what other may not understand,

In fan fiction,

Pop culture books,

Television of the now!

Agree with her or not,

She’s a firecracker ready to burst,

As jashykins,

With a lowercase j,

I might as well add,

Is a passionate person . . .

Just as the rest of us.

And even though this might come off,

Well thought through,

She at least needs to know,

She is just as great as the next blogger,

Whether she believe it or not!

Here it is to you jashykins,

From one fan to another,

You’re just all around awesome,

I hope you know that.

A bright morning it was, sun at the center of the sky, blue as ever, thinning clouds scattering as cloth rips in the atmosphere.

Soft clicks and knocks, of doors closing; opening, and locking shut once done, with patters of feet moving about the wooden floors, an distorted sign of a airy groan soon filled the silence of the afternoon day.

“Rough morning, huh?” Asked; a tried voice that was nearby the other.

The groaner looked across and down to see a young man, baggy gray coat, with hints of a long black t-shirt at the ends of the sleeves and end of the coat, and tatter jeans, bent down, fixing his shoelaces, not taking in notice of being stared at.

A hand gesture and a shrug was his only answer, creeping up his pale blue jacket as he did, quickly fixing up the low ponytail of their hair, the other not seeing it, before done with his laces, did he look up again and asked for repeat when the other’s hair was back in place.

Only a shrug this time was given.

“Lost your voice or something?”

The other only patted the open skin that showed neck, tracing faint bruises, faded, but still visible.

“The bastard got a name or an address at least?”

The other only rolled their eyes, mockingly punched the man in the arm, taking a moment to straighten up the turtle neck sweater, enough to cover the bruises. Sparing a moment to give another sign to the man, before they took down the stairs of the apartment building out to the parking lot, sounds of wood dull to stone in matter of minutes.

“What was she doing here last night?”

A quick shrug in reply.

The man gave a sigh, shaking his head in disbelief, before saying. “Is it really worth not giving me any hint of this shit, not one thing?”

The other shook their head in a motion of that answer wasn’t going to happen any time soon.

“Unbelievable . . . that’s just . . .”

“Please, Randy, just stop.”

The words came out in cracks, dried away and sandpaper rough, lack was sleep echoed along in the eyes that ran in slivers of red around the iris, the eyelids barely staying open from little hours of sleep and the bright sun.

“You don’t have to go today, I’ll just tell them you’re sick and can’t make it.”

“No . . .” The other weakly reply back, keeping their head down, away from the man and the sun, soon adding in the following. “I can’t miss today. It’s my last warning and one step away from losing the one thing that’s keeping me away from them.”

“That’s why she was here?” Randy asked, stopping his steps looking to his friend, hand reaching out to stop the other from moving and most likely falling from a misstep.

A nod was given when he pulled away.

Randy place his hands over his face to keep the anger from coming out, running his hands up his face and through his hair, sending locks in different directions, soon smoothing them out, eyes still on his friend when doing so.

“Perry . . . you can’t keep living like this! With them breathing down your neck to go back . . . and that woman is overstepping her boundaries here.” Randy stated, glancing at Perry’s upper sweater.

“She’s blood to me, Randy, she has a right to act to out and be like this. The only thing she can’t do is force me back, neither, her nor the others.”

“But Perry, man, you’re just digging your own grave at this rate. Go tell them straight and be done with them.”

“If only they were that understanding as you, Randy, but alas, that doesn’t come easy. Even of what she said was true about what is going on back at home, why in the world would I do it, when the results are not even in my favor to leave after it.”

Randy listened on as Perry went on about his family, eyeing a street clock to see it wasn’t until another two hours until getting to work, and his friend was in needed for some coffee.

After three stoplights, they walked into a café, Randy telling or in short matters order Perry to go find a place for them to sit, as he got the drinks. Perry gave a deep breath of a nod, and went to do so.

Not long when they were sitting together, by a window, having a fine view of the small town they lived in.

In shorts of the silence, Randy broke it with a question.

“So what’s wrong with the old geezer?”

“Stroke; a level six I believe, it has left him bedridden for the last month or so. Shanton has become very restless because of it. Asking, pleading, and acting out for me to come home and help out.”

Randy leaned on his open hand, as it elbowed the table to keep his head up, the other rising the cup to mouth once in a while for a slip. An eyebrow rose from Perry words.

“They do know he’s the reason you left and skip like water stones to over here, right?”

“Whatever they do know, it’s only father’s side.”

“This is just bull.”

“I can only agree with you at this point.”

To that, they went on chatting, changing the topic about what was to come at work. Randy stating to Perry that if he feels too ill to work, he calls it a day and go home. Yelling boss or not, Perry guilty knew his friend was going to handle whatever their boss through at him.

Later that night, Perry was able to handle a day’s work and able to fit in a few more hours of work than normal, before calling it in. He and Randy clocked out; heading to a close by diner they usually went to for dinner, before going home.

Sitting at the bar, ordering, and waited. Their chatter soon followed that as clockwork.

“You could have left early.”

“And have the Mr. Weningham pretty much hang you, no thank you.”

“What, it wouldn’t be that bad, it would have been worst if he didn’t deiced to bring his daughter to work today. Than I would have kissed my ass goodbye, but she makes like an overgrown pup, I wouldn’t even get a bark out of him.”

“Always finding excuses, yes?”

Randy just flipped the bird to the other’s teasing tone, grinning happily for the change of mood and that the food came just in time.

“I am willing to say I do, but I have reasons.”

“I think you meant excuses, Randall.”

“Quiet, only my mother calls me that ugly adult name.” Randy replied back, flinging a piece of veggie at Perry that landed just on the rim of his plate.

“May at least let one think you are one, you overgrown child.” Perry said in return, a light laughter left his lips not long later.

Randy was about to give another snarky say to the other, but stopped when catching someone at the front entries of the diner walk him.

“Oh come on, one day without this bullshit, please.” Randy grunted in hush words, motioning Perry to look over his left shoulder to see who it was.

“Why did she bring him along?”

“Brother?”

“Not quite close, cousin. Sage is . . . how one should say it . . .”

“A dick?”

“May as well be one, yes.” Perry answered in a sigh, getting up from his jacket covered chair, glancing at Randy, before back at the two at the door, stating. “This will only take a moment, hopefully, be right back.”

Perry left, leading the other two outside, speaking, faces make cold and hard at each other at each passing word.

Randy thinking the worst, even more so when the three were leaving view of the window, thinking fast, left money on the counter, grabbing his coat and Perry’s jacket, soon following after them.

Rounding the block, coming near the back part of the diner, hearing voices; one he was very familiar with. Sadly, it was in their native tongue.

“Perry, vous savez ce n’est pas juste à l’oncle! Rentrez chez vous, vous faites tout vous inquiétez sur une petite tif avant vous deux. Qui est un non-sens juste inutile et totale!” The one named Sage stated, in the calmest anger he could pull, a loose arm wrapped around Shanton crying from part of the chat Randy must have missed.

“Il pourrait vous! Mais pour ce qu’il a fait était inoubliable! Me jeter et de se débrouiller par moi-même parce qu’il ne peut pas comprendre de moi! Ni mes voies! Non, je refuse de revenir à cet homme! Je ne vais même pas mentir de dire que je me suis offert de cela . . . maladie, il pense que j’ai! Je ne vais pas, vous ne pouvez pas me faire!”

“Qu’en est-il votre ami . . . comment pensez-vous père aura à ce genre de personne. Il serait négliger et savoir qu’il ya quelque chose de beaucoup que . . .” Shanton started out with, but was cut off when Perry gave a shout for her to stop.

A hand rose in matters to hit, but didn’t make a motion to go on, eyeing his cousin was about to jump him if he did so.

“Randall n’est pas votre préoccupation . . .” Perry started out with, toying a bit of his ponytail in thought before saying. “Si l’on veut l’appeler ainsi. Il vit une vie tout à fait unique, celui que je peux comprendre et ne pas être pour fuir. C’est quelque chose que je sais père ne sera jamais. . .”

“C’est une étape, vous serez plus et venez à la maison.” Shanton said to him, moving away from Sage, getting close to pull Perry into a hug, but he brushed her off.

“Ce que je suis n’est pas une étape.” Perry said coldly to her, before leaving them there, grateful to Randy was near, any fear before, lingered but it wasn’t the main focus anymore.

“Shanton ne parlait pas que, Perry.” Sage retorted, before speaking softly to Shanton that it was best they called it a night and head back, to try again later.

Perry willed every fiber of himself not to turn around and face his family again, rushing to Randy. Thanking for bringing his jacket while slipping it on and ushered off together back to the apartment complex.

“You okay?”

“Oh yes, just another rift, same as always. Less hands-on this time though. Thanks for coming to look for me. Another second with Sage and it wouldn’t have ended well.”

Randy gave a nod, adding in. “I don’t know, the dude was a bit bigger than you. I doubt I couldn’t even take him down.”

“I would like it if Sage stayed from you and me for the best.” Perry stated, glancing over his shoulder, making sure they were alone, with the last words from what Sage said echoing in his head, unknowing he leaned a bit on Randy as they walked on.

“Umm . . . Perry?”

“Yes, Randy, what is your question?”

“I am in trouble with your family or something?”

“Why would you say that?”

“I heard you say my name and I was just wondering if . . .”

“Don’t mind that. It was a slip of the tongue to get riled up is all. Nothing to worry about, I assure you.”

“Okay . . .”

The tone of use in that one word, alone made Perry sad within, with a sigh and a light push to the other, who comply with a shock grunt, but a smile with the other had one.

“Would it be any trouble to spend the night?”

“Nope: not at all in the slightest! Unless, of course, you, o’ dear master Perry, are not up for a late horror movie night ‘til dusk, and being family free from bullshit weekly?”

“I fully agree and up for it. Your mother calling tonight also, monthly check up, ten sharp, not a second later.”

“Aw, damn it and I have hoping to have a mother and Ruby free night.” Randy ranted a bit in complained, but still they headed back to the apartment, walking up the side stairs to the second floor, entering into Randy’s home.

“I call her and get the popcorn ready. You can pick the first screamer. Their all on the third, top, shelf on the left, no real order . . . so don’t waste your time order them by year or anything.” Randy stated with the ending sounding a bit mocking, as he headed to the kitchen, as Perry headed for the living room.

Perry gave a guilty laugh when being founded out, midway of doing the deed, and just scanned the names; enthusiastically not to fix them, coming to an old movie but one that had fond memories.

Hearing boastful keenness from the kitchen, having Perry shake his head and setting the movie up, with unsure skills to get the DVD going, in time when the popcorn was done, along with the chattering, the play button was finally able to be pressed.

Resting on the couch, not long having some company, the light hum from the movie played.

“Haven’t seen this in a while, in what a year or something, nice pick!” Randy called out, munching on the popcorn.

“Thought of everything that happen today, thought something like this could smooth out the wrinkles.”

“Or feeling nostalgic of someone culture.”

“Don’t get too full of yourself. There is only one bed and we both need to sleep on it.”

“Ha-ha, I forgot how to laugh, French Boy.”

“Another: nostalgic moment that it is, yes?”

“Only this time, you smell better and not look like you about to off yourself.”

Perry rolled his eyes before adding the words. “A real charmer you are, Madame Randy.”

That nickname made Randy flinch, when remembering of how that happen. Only: knowing that it was an odd way to start up a friendship, with or without a towel, in any other case.

“Too far . . . forgive me, Randy, I didn’t think . . .”

“No, its fine, it made you to remember to knock. I’ll take it as it is.”

Perry was about to counter that answer, but a blood chilling scream broke the chatter, bring the two back to the movie, laughing of how much that scene lack frightening it had, compare to the last time they watched, years back.

It was nearing three-thirty-five in the morning, they called it a night. Randy sparing some of his night clothes for Perry to use, less of a hassle to head over to his room to do it, soon setting themselves in bed, giving muffle goodnights.

Yet, before having sleep take its hold, Randy spoke out.

“Through thick or thin?”

A huff a chuckle was heard, before an answer.

“Même si le monde est contre l’inconnu uniqueful.”

The End.

Translations from French to English

Liberté-Freedom

Perry, vous savez ce n’est pas juste à l’oncle! Rentrez chez vous, vous faites tout vous inquiétez sur une petite tiff avant vous deux. Qui est un non-sens juste inutile et totale!-Perry, you know this isn’t fair to uncle! Come home, you’re making everyone worry over a small tiff before you two. Which is just pointless and utter nonsense!

-Il pourrait vous! Mais pour ce qu’il a fait était inoubliable! Me jeter et de se débrouiller par moi-même parce qu’il ne peut pas comprendre de moi! Ni mes voies! Non, je refuse de revenir à cet homme! Je ne vais même pas mentir de dire que je me suis offert de cela. . . maladie, il pense que j’ai! Je ne vais pas, vous ne pouvez pas me faire!-It might to you! But for what he did was unforgettable! Throwing me out and to fend for myself because he can’t understand about me! Nor my ways! No, I refuse to go back to that man! I won’t even lie to say I treated myself of this . . . sickness, he thinks I have! I won’t, you can’t make me!

-Qu’en est-il votre ami. . . comment pensez-vous père aura à ce genre de personne. Il serait négliger et savoir qu’il ya quelque chose de beaucoup que. . . -What about your friend . . . how do you think father will take to that kind of person. He would overlook it and know there is something much than . . .

-Randell n’est pas votre préoccupation. . . si l’on veut l’appeler ainsi. Il vit une vie tout à fait unique, celui que je peux comprendre et ne pas être pour fuir. C’est quelque chose que je sais père ne sera jamais. . . -Randell is none of your concern . . . if one was to call it that. He lives a very unique life, one I can understand and not be shun for. He’s something I know father will never become . . .

-C’est une étape, vous serez plus et venez à la maison. -It’s a stage, you’ll be over it and come home.

-Ce que je suis n’est pas une étape. -What I am is not a stage.

-Shanton ne parlait pas que, Perry. -Shanton wasn’t talking about that, Perry.

-Madame Randy -Madam Randy

-Même si le monde est contre l’inconnu uniqueful.-Even when the world is against the uniqueful unknown.