Open House: The Reason Why You Lock Your Doors

AN OPEN HOUSE: THE REASON WHY YOU LOCK YOUR DOORS

A Play in One Scene

by

Sean Jones

Sunglasses

So theres this guy…

Thats how people start stories right? Anyway, here we we go. Yeah.

So he is awalkin’ down the street, some average joe smith. He is yeh high and had a cigar in his mouth, which is weird, because who smokes a cigar these days? I thought that freudian guy kind of made it for anyone to be walking around, minding his business, with his mouth full of di- smoke! From the cigar! But the most noticible thing on his face were his sunglasses. Man he had good sunglasses!

So he is awalkin’ along the street, not caring about anything you know? Those sunglasses are blocking out his eyes, so you cant see where he is looking. But the I notice somthin’. I noticed that he wasn’t stopping, not for nothing you know? Pedistrians, children, hot dog vendors, schoolbuses filled with children , nuns, cars, old ladies, buses with nuns, and a box of kittens.

He is just barrelling along a straight line, no regard for anyone in his way you know? But somehow this guy is perfectly fine. So I’m watching this guy, and I’m thinking, and while I am thinking I come up with three theories.

1. He is moronic. Not likely due to his awesome sunglasses which only cool people should have, and even stupid people have limits.

2. He was blind. I mean, that tie with that shirt? At the very least he was colorblind. The sunglasses were a good indicator of this, but unless the guy just became deaf and the male version of hellen keller, that wasn’t likely.

Finally, there was my third idea. He was asleepin’, I mean asleptwalkin’. A Sleep Walkin’. This was the most likely, because he wasn’t wearing pants. And if I remember one thing from scooby-doo, aside from the fact that every real estate agent is evil and wants you off your property, is that you should never wake up someone who is a sleepingwalkin’.

So there I am, running in front of him, shouting at people to get out of his way. But I had to shout real quietly you know? So that I wouldn’t wake him up. But no one heard me, so I was basically pushing people out of his way for him. But I’ a real fast runner right, so when the traffic light changed… I was on one side, and he was in the middle.

A bus came. It was filled with children, nuns, and a box of kittens. Karma told me his time had come.

I wont horror you with the gory details of the devastating crash, but I will share with you the bright side of all of this.

At least I got these cool sunglasses.

Finite Life Returns

Due to lack of interest in anything other than Finite Life, I must return to it, much to everyone's pleasure I hope.

Here is a brief teaser on the next chapter.

Student Five: Ako Izumi

Timid Athletic Girl

The Sight Of Blood Makes Her Weak

Her Scar Bears Her Shame

Student 4: Yue Ayase

Philosophizing

No Point In The School System

She Is Baka-Black

It's All in the Wrist: Background 02

The class was out. School was over, for the day at least. It was a Saturday, which usually meant fun nightly activities suitable for youngsters tonight and a needed day off tomorrow. That does not include Akio, who was quite busy moping as he put his shoes. Kiyoshi, who was most certainly not moping, was eternally confused by his reluctance to work, but it did not matter. That is just how things work, they would work tonight, and half of them would be miserable. Kiyoshi thought about asking him about his extreme dislike of working for the Sasaki, but that would break the silent code between them; no talking about the past. It didn’t matter though, Kiyoshi would go to work, and enjoy it, and Akio would go and be silently cursing everyone in sight, that was just how it worked, and tonight wouldn’t be different.

Student Three: Kazumi Asakura

The Paparazzi

Her Camera Always On Hand

Always For A Scoop

Student Two: Yunna Akashi

The Basketball Star

Affection For Her Father

Nickname Is The Kid

31 Haiku: Student One, Sayo Aisaka

Floating Through The Room

Immune To The Change Of Time

Misunderstood Soul

UPDATES

Yes, I have finally got around to actually formatting my blog a bit, and my gosh it looks better. I'm sure Florence will enjoy it as well. Anyway, besides the much appreciated change it how it operates, writings are being updated as well.

Wrist is on a semi-regular schedule, from now on, if it does update, it will be on a Saturday.

As for Off, I plan on updating it once every 1-2-3 days, though the updates will be short to compensate for that.

Anyway, thank you all for keeping up, and enduring the previously horrible site design.

Off: 11/6/11

I was on a bullet train, traveling at speeds surpassing 200 miles per hour. Twisting and turning in an infinite number directions at once, but always feeling like it was going upwards.

It's All in the Wrist Background 01

The pencil twirled around in his hand; manipulated by his skillful fingers in amazing ways. It was quicker than anyone else in the school who had a similar reflex to boredom, but with such a overly narrow superlative, that wasn’t anything difficult to comprehend, or indeed, difficult for the boy to do, as the pencil spun and swirled with an excited flair, without his eyes even on it. The excitation was not an extension of his mood, as he was quite bored with everything around him. His eyes showed it, as they slowly moved from target to target in the classroom, neither stopping nor slowing at any particular time. He observed many students taking notes, some prevalent to what the teacher was talking about, some not, and just as many students doing whatever they felt like doing. Like him.

too much

too many smiles, not enough words
too much friendship, not enough thought
too much fun, not enough morality
too much company, not enough normality
too much happiness, too little reality

New Updates

I know that most people do not like Riddle, so this will be great news for them. Riddle is over for the foreseeable future! I have more chapters written, but not typed, and i don't particularly want to type them up. The next thing I will start posting will either be It's All in the Wrist or Hit Me Up, but right now it is looking like It's All in the Wrist. Sorry for the Riddle-ness.

Riddle 25 and 26

Waking up. It's a odd thing that most carbon based lifeforms have a tendency to do once their sleep has reached an end. Different people wake up different ways, after different forms of resting. Diversity is key. Some people wake up like a crazy person, arms flailing, noise blaring. Some people are on a hair trigger and those people typically kill the first person they, assuming that the intruder were an assassin sent to kill them. Some awake slowly, like a lazy cat on a windowsill
I am normally a cat person. I wake up slowly and calmly, as if it had all been apart of my diabolical scheme and no, I'm not just lazy.
This time I found myself awake, without a feeling of drowsiness leaving my mind. One moment I was staring into the eyes of a beautiful maiden, as we walked for eternity. Then I was looking at Cheri's dull ceiling. My eyes felt like they hadn't closed or even moved for hours, minus the eyestrain. My body wasn't tired, and it lacked a normal, post sleep condition.

Riddle 24

Dreams can be either incredibly odd, or incredibly telling. For some people, myself included, dreams are a wondrous thing. They allow for the impossible to be possible, the unreal to become tangible. Dreams aren't always amazing, nightmares were the true plague of this spectacular realm. Personally, I almost never had a nightmare, not since I was really young. That might explain my empathetic support of dreams. The dream I had last night was both odd and telling. It went something like this.
Step. Step. Step. I was walking down a hallway. From the looks of it the hallway looked similar to an abandoned hospital. Doors adjourned each side, and, out of curiosity, I opened the first one I saw.
The smell hit my nose before the light hit my eyes, and a smile grew on my face. It was an exact copy of Robin's restaurant. I walked over to the bathroom door and flung it open. There was Robin, dead as a doornail. It wasn't even the bathroom that the door led to, it just led to the stall he was killed in. I could feel tears building up around my eyes, so I closed the door. As I was wiping the salty water in my eyes, I heard bustling from the kitchen. Natural my detective instincts drew me over to investigate. Once my presence was located in the kitchen, I was greeted by a familiar face.

Riddle 23

We were absolutely stunned by Nazo's recent development. However, a true Holmes knows how to get back on his feet when he is floored.
"What do you mean?" He turned his head so that he was looking directly at me.
"I know everything about this package. It was made in the mid west, some place like Colorado. The image is kind of blurry. Then it was shipped to a nearby store via a white truck with red lettering across the side and the truck kept making this really annoying this thudunk noise. The store was called Gigante or something like that. About two weeks ago a young glasses wearing girl." He pointed to Cheri. "You to be precise, bought this package. It then sat in the second from the bottom drawer in your fridge until you just recently decided to rip its organs out and eat them." His deadpan face mocked us, though it was mainly directed at her.

Play Update

After a recent and heartfelt talk with a friend, I have been convinced too write a new play slightly based off of his story. It will be my first attempt at a drama, as well as a full play,

Riddle 22

One would expect that with such an aura of happiness being exuded, we would be recklessly riding the damn bike all the way home. Hazardously endangering our lives like the stupid young kids we are. So that same one should be ashamed for assuming, as we had the surprising intelligence to wait until we had left the city before we decided to become rather suicidal, because we did in fact ride that bike.
We came to a rather loud halt, curtsey of a shiny metal trash can that we neglected to notice. Fortunately we had the soft grassy lawn to break our fall, instead of our previous cushion; Me. Despite almost many times, we were not scared but rather we laughed the whole experience off, as if it was no big deal. We got off the lawn and stumbled, not unlike a zombie, to the door. Once we were inside the house, Nazo and I collapsed on the nearest couch, my our more mature partner went somewhere else in the house. I didn't really care as my legs were practically on fire, and all I wanted was sleep.

Riddle 21

"It is true that some people in Jones International committed fraud, but that was out of my sector. I work directly under Mr. Killmeyer, as his senior secretary. And while he wasn't one of the ones who were fraudulent, everyone at our branch of Jones international was feeling the pressure released by the media and our CEO, Greg Jones. Even the lower members such as myself were feeling it. But the ones who suffered the most were the group of people who were in between the higher and lower echelons. The heads of departments primarily made up this group. Mr. Jones is one of those people; he is head of the Jones International branch located in the city.

Riddle 20

"Preposterous!" shouted the banker. "It was suicide wasn't it?" At this he pointedly looked at the
deputy. Dave flinches at the glare, but nonetheless he stuttered.
"T-that's right… We already declared this a s-suicide." At this Cheri spoke up.
"Police code 747, a suicide case can always be reopened if enough evidence exists that it could be murder or manslaughter, and this one looks like murder to me." Now two death glares were focused on our deputy, intent of making him keel over. Needless to say we weren't that lucky, as his standing up attested to, he was very much so alive. I turned my head away from the scared deputy, and instead turned my head towards Ms. Howard.

Riddle 19

"Good game."
I smiled and shook the old Medical Examiner's hand, making sure not to hit the chess pieces on the board in between us. I was given congratulations and a smile, curtsey of the old man and my Watson. Nazo was busy feigning boredom on his face. Clap. Clap. I turned my head to the recently emitted clapping sound. There stood the Chief and his underling, the deputy.
"I must say that I've never met a man who had beaten our M.E. in chess. I myself have never come close."
"Thank you. And in turn I must say that I didn't think that you would take so long for a case that your staff had already claimed to be solved."
"Just trying to be through, but thankfully I had my trusted deputy to do all the dirty work before hand."
"I don't think that he will be referred to as such in the near future?" I muttered under my breath.
"What was that?"
I cleared my throat as if to suddenly gain importance.
"The case isn't solved sir. Not even close."
"Why would you say that?"
"Before I explain everything, I would like you to round up a few people."
"Who?"
"Andrew Killmeyer, Laura Howard, and finally Ms. Sara Troy."
"Alright, but this better be good."
"I assure you that it will."
I turned back towards the M.E. and asked.
"Up for an easier challenge?"
"It's good to know that I can still win at this game." said the M.E..
Cheri hung her head in shame.
"Now now, there will be none of that as there is no shame in losing. Besides, you were a worthy opponent."
Nazo and I congratulated her on her commendable sportsmanship, and I had to bite my tongue to prevent myself from uttering words that would most likely get my head on a pike by dawn tomorrow. As if sensing this, my partner delivered well textbook Muay Thai elbow jab to my stomach, therefore knocking the wind out of me.
"Your not one to talk."
"Noted..." That was all I could saying with whatever remaining air was in my lungs.
The bells on the front door signaled the arrival of my requested humans, followed closely by Mr. McHale. They all were forced to sit down at the same table, as it made for easier interrogation.
"Alright Noah, the people you requested are here. Impress me."
"And I shall sir."
I turned to face everyone, but especially the trio of my request.
"The game of chess can never start without all the pieces present. So now I will begin what will be a perfect game, amusing those who wished to be amused.
I walked over to right in front of the table, looking solely at them.
"You would think that a man committing suicide would leave a suicide note right?"
Two yes's arose from the elders of the trio, while the youngest, Sara, just sniffled.
"Then why didn't Robin have one?" No one responded to my rhetorical question. I sighed in response to their lack of response. After my sigh I moved over to the cash register and started fiddling with it.
"Two months and a few days ago, the now deceased Robin pulled me aside. He told me this ' Noah, I don't plan on dying. But if for some reason I do happen to pass away, I left my will and testament underneath the most bountiful place in the store. If your not yet 18 when this happens, then give it to Sara, if you are, then its all yours.'"
I finished my fiddling with the cash register and lifted it up enough for me to reach underneath it. I pulled a cobweb covered letter from out under it. I brushed the debris off then handed it to Sara.
"Ms. Troy, would you do the honors?"
She gulped and nodded simultaneously. Her hand trembled as she reached for the letter, as if it were her only lifeline. My fellow former employee slowly opened it and gasped.
"T-this is his handwriting..."
"Go on."
Sara then began to read the life changing bill aloud.
Dear Sara and or Noah.
If you are not one of those people, please either A) put it back where you found it, or B) give it to one of the said people, as it is not polite to read another persons mail.
Hello Sara and or Noah, as by now the person reading this must be one of you two.
I can only presume that if you are seeing these words, then I am most likely dead. If not, please give it back, it would ruin the whole sense of … whatever a will is supposed to fell like...
Still reading? Then I have passed away.
I wish no tears unto you, as my life was a happy one, filled with joy. That is why, even with the present circumstances, I will not go into any protection program. I love the store I have spent countless years building up to much to see it disappear. And I guess I would miss you two as well.
The reason I was spurred to write this will happened to occur when I was visiting a friend who owned a store downtown. I was leaving out the backdoor for some silly reason when I caught ear of some revealing words about a nearby financial institution. Upon realizing what they were saying, I reported it to the media. Then I backed away, with no intention of getting myself further involved in what I saw.
But back to the will. As I told Noah, you, Sara Troy shall inherit everything I own. The catch? Once Noah turns 18 he gets everything I own, so try not to scratch anything will you?
I know I don't have much, but do with it what you will.
Signed Robin Gordon
Tears were falling freely from the current heir to Robins Bakery. I put my arm around her as a sign of comfort, and when I did so I was surprised by the lack of chill down my spine. Sara though, was not content with my generous gesture, as she, for lack a better word or phrase, tackle-hugged me, burying her tear cover face into my chest. I was almost relieved when I felt the death glare via Cheri, as it assured me the world wasn't ending.
We stayed like that for a while, before I determined that she had enough 'Noah Time', and disentangled ourselves. I moved over to my standing position, only this time I had a certain will and testament with me. I cleared my throat, in order to regain what lost professional appearance I once had, which earned a chuckle from an easily amused Probi.
"I was always happy with my life... That doesn't sound like a very depressed person now does it Chief?"
"No Noah, it certainly doesn't." He spoke with a dark tone in his voice. I smiled a I begun to nail to the first nail into the killers coffin.
"In fact, I believe it's perfectly natural for to say that someone in this room killed Robin."

Riddle 18

The air shifted around me, transforming from a state of rising tension to an atmosphere of what seemed to be respectful fear. Cheri and Dave were trying, and failing, to keep up the illusion of being calm. Only Nazo and I could keep that illusion up, except that Nazo was the only one that truly held that emotion tightly. The chief of police walked up to me and held out his hand. I grasped it with as much force as I could muster, not surprised when my hand was met with equal, if not greater, force. His eyebrow raised in a pleased surprise.

Riddle 17

Screams and shrieks were exclaimed at a rapid velocity throughout the street. The only thing more common was dives for personal safety. We swerved left and right, lacking the balance required for the basic act of riding a bicycle. Nazo was practically hanging off me, all for the naive possibility that his own life might be spared. A bump on the sidewalk drove said boy's knee sharply into the small of my back, and I regretted, not for the first time that day, that Cheri was not the one hanging off my back. The thought of that gave me a lecherous smile, though it was soon erased by my shouts.

Riddle 16

The light of the shining sun was streaming through the open window, and, as if designed to, hit the side of my face perfectly. I stirred, before opening my eyes to see a sleeping angel. Except that this angel had no wings... and short black hair instead of long flowing blonde hair... So I guess she wasn't an angel, but I liked my hyperbole, so no complaints from the peanut gallery. I looked down and was surprised, relieved, and disappointed, all in that order; surprised that we were both still clothed, relieved that I wasn't naked, and disappointed that she wasn't. Nonetheless I decided to enjoy the feeling of us being incredibly snug together, and closed my eyes in order to feign sleep. Moments later I felt her move, and with a yawn escaping her lips I made the miraculous conclusion that she was leaving her sleep-like state to a rather more alert existence. Or she was just waking up. Potato, tomato, they're both still food. In order to awake me from my false state of rest, I received a sharp poke to the cheek.

Riddle 15

The bedroom door was flung open as if it had been kicked down by federal agents. Milliseconds after three vaguely humanoid bodies collapsed on the bed, clearly exhausted. Hyperventilating was the only sound heard throughout the room for a while. Eventually I decided to voice my opinion. "That wasn't a very pleasant walk." A kick to the leg from our resident Probi gave me a clear view of his opinion on the matter. Another kick from Cheri reinforced this, though from the sound of it she also kicked Nazo, so all was good.

Riddle 14

There were five customers who went to the bathroom around the time of the murder, three men and two women. The bathrooms were unisex, as having only one set of a bathrooms save a lot of money and space. We got them all to sit down at a table so we could quickly answer their questions. Cheri and Nazo were standing off to the distance, close enough that they could hear us yet far enough that they wouldn't be easily heard if they wanted to talk. First Dave and I started off with their names. There was Angie Fleming, the tall blonde who exuded an almost cheerleader-like aura. Laura Howard, an office worker with brown hair tied up in a bun, wire framed glasses adorned her tan face. Mike Coulter, a book author who spent a lot of his time at the bakery, apparently trying to write the next great American novel. He was a good friend of mine, often asked me what I thought of a recent chapter. His editor, Tony Flynn, a strict glasses wearing man whose head was middle of its goal to become completely bald. Finally there was a Mr. Andrew Killmeyer, the perfect personification of a business man, the type of guy I always saw on the news as the banks were collapsing. We then began to ask more... probing questions, which they responded to in the order of introduction.

Riddle 13

Questions and answers fired past me in a way almost perfectly mimicking bullets. Except you couldn't dodge these bullets, you could only hope that they missed their intended target. I wasn't able to return fire, as only Cheri had a conveniently metaphorical gun and she wasn't aiming to kill. Then I kinda forgot where I was going with this metaphor and glanced over at my partners. Nazo had that same deadpan expression on his face, while Cheri was answering the cops current question. I decided that I should perhaps pay attention to this, lets face it, rather important dialogue. And as always my timing was impeccable.

Riddle 12

I could hear someone calling the police, probably Cheri if the sound of the voice was any consideration. There was a pair of arms around me trying to comfort me. Sara. I could feel tears falling onto my neck, and while I also felt tears on my face, I knew the weren't hers. But none of that mattered. All that matter was the man lying down on ground dead. Memories of him flashed before my eyes; my first day coming here, my first heavenly roll, meeting Sara, working the register, the celebration of my first day of work, my first tip, every one of my birthday parties since I was seven. And it was all gone, never going to happen again, never another bearlike hug or huge smile. Gone. I felt a tug on my sleeve that snapped me out of my memories. I jerked my head up savagely to meet my challenger. It was Cheri. I glared into her eyes, and was surprised by what I saw. Sympathy, understanding, sorrow, and most importantly I saw reason in her eyes. I looked around at what I saw. Somehow the police had arrived without me noticing, and then there was a certain girl with a parasitic attachment to me. I stood up with conviction, while my parasite fell off surprised.

Riddle 11

The bell on the entrance jingled as the door flew open. I walked in and took a deep breath of the air I had grown to love over the years. I looked over to the counter to see one of my two favorite people in the world, Robin Gordon, my substitute father figure. Upon my arrival I was greeted by a large shout. A huge smile grew on my face and I ran back behind the counter and was hugged by the gigantic ginger named Robin.

Riddle 10

When I arrived downstairs I heard the tell tale signs of boiling water. Upon further investigation I discover three cups of instant ramen noodles near said boiling water. Since Cheri was preparing the ramen, I plopped down beside Nazo at the, of course, black, breakfast table. Thirty seconds later we each had a hot steaming bowl of processed calories, my personal favorite, in front of us. We dug in with a vigor that would disgust most vultures. Good thing they were extra large cups, otherwise we would be out almost instantly. Broth spilled everywhere, except on ourselves of course, it wouldn't be right for us to appear unprofessional. After a bit Nazo suddenly looked up with a blank expression on his face.

Riddle 09

I woke to the sound of loud beeping. I automatically hit the snooze button, despite this being the first time in months I had even used an alarm. I looked over at my temporary sleeping partner to find her in the middle of waking up. I noticed that her state of dress was... actually she had all of her clothes on, odd. Cheri was in mid stretch when glanced at me, and froze. She remained that way for a good 15 seconds, a blush that could make a tomato commit murder in jealousy on her face. Just as I was about to move to see if she was alright, she turned away at a superhuman speed.

"L-look down..."

Riddle 08

"What?..."

"You heard me."

Nazo looked at Cheri for a bit before switching back to me. He seemed to be considering his options. While he was doing that Cheri walked up to me and leaned against me. The action made me raise an eyebrow, but other than that I remained motionless. Eventually Nazo came to a decision and sighed.

"I don't suppose there is anything else I can do... Alright, you got yourselves a partner."

Cheri smiled and drew the boy into a hug, burying his face in her... more feminine parts.

Riddle 07

We burst into the room in an intentionally over dramatic fashion. Cheri immediately went over to her laptop and booted it up. I stood behind her, observing. She began to search the word Nazo on the internet. Various results came up, but nothing that would be of use. There were some Japanese translation sites, in which I could see that Nazo translated to riddle. There was also appeared to be a... questionable type of site. Cheri cocked her head at the screen.
", a place for all your desires to be fulfilled..."
She turned to look at me
"Should we click on it?"
"Sure, whats the worst that could happen?"

Riddle 06

The sound of pouring was all that he could be heard in Cheri's kitchen. Steam rose up from the liquid, which happened to be a cheap brand of tea. The only ones in the room were Cheri and I, the boy who we found at the hospital was up in Cheri's room; handcuffed.

Riddle 05

I flopped on the ground, completely exhausted. My body wasn't meant to handle 15 miles of biking, not with the extra person sized weight on the handlebars. Though we did stop for a quick breather, it wasn't enough. Cheri let me lay on the ground for what felt like an hour, though actually three minutes.

Riddle 04

My eyes cracked open, leaving me with quite a feast for my eyes. I looked away from the beautiful sight.

I didn't know it was possible to wriggle out your clothes like that when you were asleep. I got up and put the covers over her, shielding her from my gaze. I looked down to see that I was still wearing my dark red t-shirt and my black track pants. Then I stretched and yawn, then walked over to pick up my bag from the ground. I did inventory, and as usual everything was there. I heard a yawn from behind me, so I turned around to find a rather awake girl. Her glasses were crooked on her face, and she looked completely out of it.

Riddle 03

She held me for a while, in a way that I could feel her heartbeat. Dun dun, dun dun, dun dun. Of course I also felt something much more interesting to the teenage mind. I thought about coping a feel, but decided against it. She had complete control over me after all, pissing her off would not be the wisest thing to do. Time passed, and after a while I had gotten annoyed at my 'master'. Then she started snoring. I rolled my eyes in exasperation. I then decided to do something incredibly daring/stupid. A poke, to be precise, in a rather awkward place. I whispered into her ear.

"Oi, time to wake up."

Riddle 02

I looked at the room I was in, but at the same time I didn't real look. I was trying to wrap my head around what had happened. My first loss. The contract. Her presenting the contract. That stupid contract. Me signing the contract. Her underwear. THAT GOD DAMN CONTRACT. I hung my head in shame for a moment. I need to get my emotions under control. I actually started doing deep breathing exercises.

Riddle 01

A drop of sweat ran down my neck. It wasn't a tired sweat, nor the sweat that you get when its hot outside. It was a cold sweat, a sweat of nervousness. I had a good reason for this sweat on my neck, a very damn good reason. The game of chess laid out in front of me was that reason. To the normal observer, there was a decently tall man with black/silver/white/blonde/with even a few strands of pink hair, me, and a black haired girl with glasses sitting on the other side of the board. Even a beginner at chess could tell that the girl, Cheri, was absolutely dominating the game. I could only watch in horror as she moved her queen. The single word she said rang in my ears. It made me flashback to the events that played out earlier, in a way that I can only assume is similar to when a persons life flashes before their eyes right before they die.

"Checkmate."

Daily Update (Temporary)

I have been a bit lax on weekly update schedule, mainly because of school, as it is a very important year for me. Fortunately, I have a project I wrote a year ago that I shall upload at a pace of a chapter a day until I am finished. This will also give me time to work on a few things, school included. As a note, this project represents my writing skill a year ago, and I like to think that I have improved since then.

What Happens in Vegas, Rarely Stays There

A lot of people asked me what my problem was, at which point I either punch them in the face for annoying me, or if they actually cared, I told them, with a slap instead of a punch.

I did not have a normal childhood. Well, I did, until I turned ten, at which point it went not so much downhill, as much as falling face first into the earth with the speed and velocity of a Peregrine falcon.

Remember when your parents made a big deal out of you turning the big one oh, and tried to make your tenth birthday the best possible. I don't. I remember my parents, who were a little tipsy at the time, deciding that I was going to 'become a man', and that we need to celebrate my birthday in an adult place.

This turned out to be Vegas. Only God knows how they made that connection.

So anyway, we took a train to Vegas, whose state was only a few states away from our own proud Oklahoma, and fortunately that went smoothly. We got to our hotel, if you could call it that, as the more accurate description was "What would happen if the architect only figured out he was building a seedy motel halfway through construction", but I didn't care. Hell, I was ten, and I thought I was here to have the greatest birthday party ever.

This did not prove to be the case, when my parents imprisoned me in our room with a pair of furry handcuffs that were not only surprisingly effective, but also provided to every couple in the hotel. I really don't want to think about implications of that.

There I stayed, for what felt like a dozen days. Of course, as a child, time feels longer than it actually is, so I was exaggerating. It was only a half dozen.

Eventually one of the hotel staff decided that maybe they should clean their rooms for a change, and I was found. At this point people usually ask where my parents went, and honestly, I have no idea. It is not something I have ever asked them, and it's going to stay that way.

So the hotel staff found me, and that's how I got drafted into the day to day lives of those living in Vegas. I suppose you could call them Vegans.

I started out working as a poker dealer, because they had an opening after the last guy "Got into a pharmaceutical incident", whatever that meant. Well, turns out that if you can't cheat, or spot others cheating, you can't really work as a dealer in Vegas, at least, not that kind. After the seventh time a guy five aces, my employer decided to move me to another industry. By which he meant the sketchy bar down the street, which his friend owned.

After showing up there, I was immediately taught the basics of bartending and given the job of daytime bartender. This was actually a nice gig, as it meant I worked from 7 to 12 in the morning, then slept, only to be woken up at 3 to clean the place.

This continued on for a few months until I was woken out of my slumber at 5 in the afternoon, something unprecedented. My employer told me that one of his girls was sick, and threw a pile of clothing at me, which I dutifully put on because I was such a good worker.

Needless to say, I wasn't prepared when I walked out of the bathroom only to be pushed into one of the "special rooms" that only the dancers used, and told to strip.

At the risk of damaging my already destroyed reputation, I will refrain from saying what went on there. All I can say is, I did not know that could do that there!

Anyway, that never happened again, mainly because I adamantly refused it, so my employer kept me at my bartending job.

A few weeks later, I was minding my own business, searching under the counter for a particular brand of beer, when a loud drunk slammed his hand onto the table and started yelling about me giving him the hardest stuff I had. I really hope he was talking about drinks.

I looked up and saw, here's a shocker, my dad, and thankfully that woman that he was fondling was my mom, unlike future incidents…

He then proceeded to give a performance that wouldn't fool a five year old, spouting nonsense about how he thought he and mom lost me and looked endlessly for me. He then took me from my home, back to mom, who cried for a good 12 seconds, before giving the slots another go. Later that week, we headed back to Oklahoma, away from all the drugs and hookers I had become accustomed to.

That, ladies and gents, is how I spent my sixth grade year.

Author's Note

After nearly two months of writing nothing but Finite Life, many things have happened. I wrote my second over 15,000 story. I started PenSoulFingers. And other things. But now, it is time for a break. I will undoubtedly return someday to Finite Life. But chapter seven was a legitimate stopping point, and continuing without complete love and devotion to this story. I know that this isn't a very professional thing to do, but in all honesty, I do not care. I wrote this story for myself, and the fact that anyone else would read and like this story is completely baffling and extremely pleasing. Alas, this story has not turned out as I would have liked; however, my child is my child, and I will never completely ignore this story. And because I do love this story, I will never stop updating it, but it might not be as on schedule as it previous was. New children are being born, and they need love as well.

Thank you for bothering to read this, or any of The Finite Life of a Dating Sim Heroine. I cannot express my gratitude in any way whatsoever, but to say this. There is nothing more  fulfilling in the world than exploring the infinite possibilities of a finite life.

Finite Life Chapter Eight: Experiencing Your First Time, Again

I looked around to confirm that, yes, I was in my room. The pink walls and ceiling were oddly comforting, mainly because I had been quite cross at all of the pink for the past six weeks. Or is it technically the next six weeks? No matter, it didn't matter in the end.

Evened Out (A failed old story)

There was a pretty woman in London. Not exactly a groundbreaking statement, as there has been a large number of women, and decent amount of them were pretty enough to warrant the compliment. London has had a great multitude of pretty girls, which would probably explain why people tend to flock there and not, for example, Abingdon, a town that unfortunately did not have as high of a pretty woman to people ratio that London had. It was a darn shame, really, as not many people know that the lack of a plethora of these woman that had led to the closing railway station, a feature that has not been truly replaced. Too many faults in life can be traced back to the pretty women in London. This pretty woman was absolutely not an exception to that tendency to trouble others, and may be used as an example of why good Samaritans are more likely to get shot in the back nowadays, after being drained of money and medical supplies of course.

Woman may come in all shapes and sizes, unless she is considered to be beautiful by many; at that point she is almost certainly one specific size. This woman, who shall hence be known as Mabel Kipling, was, all things considered, quite a good person at heart. She was kind and courteous, and never stepped out of line. Actually it is more correct to say that she never stepped out of line publically, but that is inconsequential. If Mabel had worked a day in her life, she would have probably gotten a helpful job to benefit the community, like putting her flower arranging skills to work by setting up the most exquisite little gardens on the balconies and porches of London for the sole purpose of making the commoner's day just a smidgen more pleasant. Instead she had settled for the common upper class hobby; searching for a husband.

Today she was doing just that, and was minutes away from a marvelous visit from a man her father knew. Mabel 's father, who is so barely involved with the series of incidents soon to follow that he is only referred to as Mabel's Father. Same for her mother of course, except she is called Mabel's Mother and not Mabel's Father, as calling her Mabel's Father is only done by the foolish, the nearsighted, and the obscenely drunk. Together the two had the creative title of Mabel's Parents. The nice young man she would soon be introduced to was ever so slightly more important than Mabel's Parents, so he gets a name, which shall be Charles.

Charles was in that odd time in between being fashionably late and being annoyingly late, and time dictated that his position would be slowly shifting to the latter while Mabel sat patiently. It is important to note the difference between normal patience and forced patience. Normal patience was usually a sign of good character, as they would have to have a degree of sympathy that would allow them to overlook an error in punctuality. Forced patience was when someone would rather like to be angry at the latecomer, but is inhibited from doing so by a malevolent force; a rather revolting and distasteful example would be an Ugly Stepmother, who is better know by her other name, Mabel's Mother.

Given that Mabel's Mother had won her previous hobby, if you consider winning to be finding an upper middle class husband willing to marry you, she had since turned her time to a most horrendous activity; talking.

"I know that you father said that they would be there at six, however I'm sure that there is a perfectly good reason for his tardiness." Mabel's Mother spoke in a lofty tone, as If she were speculating to the winds and expecting them to carry her words over to her step daughter. These words, taken out of context, would point to Mabel possessing forced patience, a statement that is both right and wrong. She was being forced to be patient, though it was her own self that was exerting the force. Her good half wanted to be patient, and was making her private, more snarky half agree to her terms. The snarky half had of course acquiesced to the terms, as if there was something that both halves wanted, it was a husband. That was why the good half remained in control, as her more interesting half talked far too many words than what was culturally acceptable, as everyone knew that a husband did not want a chatterbox for a wife, because no man wanted to go to his wedding bed the night he tied the knot and get down to the more physical pursuits of marriage while listening to an audio soundtrack.

"I know mother." Mabel spoke in a voice that suggested that she was tired, but perfectly willing to carry on. So it was an accurate summarization of how she felt at that moment. "I just wished that father would be a bit more accurate when he gives us his estimated time of arrival. I wouldn't mind him showing up latter, as long as I am not sitting here waiting as if he were to arrive any second now."

'Any second' turned into 'this second', for the sound of a heavy front door closing was heard throughout the house. The common father would have announced his presence, run up the stairs and taken a sharp right turn next to the tea stain that had be so tastefully covered up by one of Mabel's flower pots, and apologized to his family why he had been so late. This goes to show the majestic difference between the common father, and an upper class one like Mabel's Father. He instead opted to send the housemaid, who shall never be mentioned by name or given a wondrous title like Mabel's Parents, as her main purpose was to send messages in the comfort and safety of someone else's home.

The women of the house, or at least, the Kipling women, walked out of the sitting room and down the stairs. It was there that Mabel greeted her father, and, in her eyes, the most important person on the planet, her potential husband. Charles was a rather well dressed man, if well dressed meant he knew how to put a bowtie on the right way. The bowtie test was the simplest test that the men of London used to reveal a man's dressing ability. It was also the most complex test, for getting a bowtie on is considered far beyond the skills of any non-Londoner.

Charles also had a few other attributes, none of them worth mentioning. What was worth mentioning was the eagerness inscribed on his eyes as they run up and down Mabel's body; examining every twist and turn of her body.

"I absolutely adore your dress Mabel, haven't seen anything quite like it before." Charles spoke as if his words were falling out his mouth like a waterfall, only his teeth stopping him from speaking what was truly on his mind. That was the real primary purpose of the teeth; otherwise anyone would go around saying anything they thought, and that meager clerk down on Bank Street who constantly attempts to get one to follow up on their interest payments, but is always to meek to pose any sort of authority would be hanged for treasonous and verbose remarks against Her Majesty and one of her rather voluptuous feather dusters.

"Thank you, though it would be difficult for one to see it again, as I am the only one in all of London who owns such a dress." Mabel spoke in a somewhat boisterous, yet partially subdued voice.

"That just means I will have to visit you again." Charles then flashed a smile so charming that everyone in the room, nay, the house, had to look away for fear of being blinded by its uncanny nature. It was a smile that he practiced in one mirror everyone morning; in fact he had even patented it, "The Smile that Sings", because like a song it expressed his emotions with the same grace and fervor that existed in that drunk man attempting to sing along to the orchestra located in the party that he crashed. The wonders of song are truly inexplicable. The reason it was only one was that his maids had expressed a slight displeasure over finding multiple replacement mirrors every day, so he was forced to resign himself to one mirror a day.

"I will certainly look forward to it." Mabel curtseyed before remembering that not only were her parents blatantly listening to her rather deep and complex dialogue, but her father was making grunts similar to a drug induced bulldog that were obviously intended to get her attention.

"Well I would certainly look forward to all of us going up to the drawing room, and I would be quite disappointed if we didn't." Mabel's Father mumbled under his breath just barely loud enough for Mabel.

"Ah yes!" Mabel exclaimed before following her father up the stairs to the aforementioned drawing room. She stole quick glances back at Charles, who seemed to be rather preoccupied with the folds of her dress.

The drawing room is the most important room in the whole house, and is usually a vast chamber meant to entertain. Many historians and English folk believed the term to come from the phrase, "Withdrawing Room", which was a place that the owner of the house, his wife, and one distinguished guest may go to for more privacy. This is a completely untrue statement, as the actual beginnings of the word-phrase were far simpler than that. The drawing room was called that only by the residents of the house, and its purpose was only to entertain. The owner and his guest would go into the room, and they would immediately begin the rapid consumption of alcoholic beverages commonly referred to as a 'binge'. Little did the guest know that only his drinks were actually alcoholic, and that the owner was merely drinking water. Once the guest had passed out, the owner would take out his quill and ink and begin to artistically draw on the poor man's face. Then he had a sketch artist, a thing that can be picked up off the street for anywhere from two to two and a half pence, sketch the face down on a piece of parchment. Then the guests face was rubbed off and he was sent on his merry way in the morning, albeit with a horrible hangover and the distinct feeling of having needles stabbed into their face. The sketch would be both a souvenir of the good times, and also excellent blackmail material.

Alas, that was not the case for this particular incident, for the blackmail strategy had already been tried by countless women, and had a limited success rate, including but not limited to Mabel's Mother.

Riddle Considerations

I was considering to upload Riddle, an old project I worked on a very long time ago. But then my laptop broke, and that kind of stopped that from happening.

Finite Life Chapter Seven: The Normal Ending

I had my eyes were closed. I tried to shut them so tight that there wasn’t any light entering them, which was about as useful as lighting a match next to the sun, because I turned the lights off before I got under the covers.

I could not get myself to sleep, which is really difficult because of how insanely tired I was. It was confusing, as one would think that when one is ridiculously tired, one would go to sleep instantly. Not. The Case.

Meta: Or How We Stopped Worrying and Learned to Write a One Act: Scene Two

Meta: Or How We Stopped Worrying and Learned to Write a One Act:

Scene Two

by

Sean Jones

[Curtains open, showing Margret in a medieval like dress, brushing her hair]

Margret:

Oh alas and alas, alack and alack. My days, filled with nothing but the most tedious and romantic of activities, toil on without notice, as my chambermaids and noble ladies of my court now are completely enthralled in their own passionate lives, filled with love and adventure that only ones other half, their soul mate, can bring. Oh, I wish that my own existence would be validated by a nice, handsome man. It may be a bit petty and shallow. Alright… There is a high amount of pettiness and shallowness involved. But that isn't the point. I am a princess; I should have more people proposing to me than that idiot Kyle. He proposed in such a dull and gray manner.

[Enter Henry in a fancy shirt]

Henry:

Miss, I could not help but hear your magnificently crafted words that seem to be transcribed by the absolute genius that exist inside all humans' hearts. Or by me. But truly, what is the difference?

Margret:

The difference is that I do not care for all men's hearts, only the entirety of one single man, could you be that one?

Henry [Aside]:

I freaking love being the playwright

Henry:

I think that I could, you know, mayhaps give you my whole self, on the condition that you give me yourself to me in all your splendid glory.

Margret [ Scathingly]:

Ah, your words are matched only by your face and looks. Come sit.

Henry:

That was written to be a compliment.

Margret:

Be quiet dearest, otherwise you might spoil the mood.

Henry:

Yes, the mood. Back to that. *Ahem* Your eyes sparkle like the moon lit sky, giving me the rare privilege of the stars being so close to me. Your lips are full and exotic that they make even me seem blank and boorish in your company. And your bosom is so-

Margret:

I'm going to cut you off there.

Henry:

But I had another two paragraphs to go!

Margret:

*Sigh* I never would have thought that I would ever say this, even if it is in the script. Would you consider skipping the whole "woo the women" part and kiss me instead?

Henry:

Gladly.

[They lean into a kiss; eyes closed. Jack walks in dressed in robes. He gets behind them and claps his hands. They freeze. He grabs Margret's arm.]

Jack:

And you thought that Magic was fake.

[He drags her offstage, leaving Henry alone. Once offstage, there is a loud clap that snaps him out of it. Henry falls forward.]

Henry:

What in the sweet slithering snakes was that? Where did my marvelous… what was her name?

Offstage Whisper :

Margret.

Henry:

Oh yes, my marvelous Margret! Oh, why have you forsaken me? Oh what a cruel world!

[Collapse to ground and starts weeping, Enter Sara in a fairy costume]

Sara:

Hey. [doesn't respond] Hey, listen. [doesn't respond. She kicks him.] HEY!

Henry:

*Groan* What do you want?

Sara:

For you to listen obviously.

Henry:

Well I am.

Sara:

I saw what happened.

Henry:

Don't bring that up.

Sara:

But I know where to Margret.

Henry [jumps to his feet]:

Margret! Where is she? And more importantly, who is she again?

Sara:

The women you were just about to kiss…

Henry:

Ah yes, of course. Where is she?

Sara:

She was kidnapped by the super evil sorcerer, Jack.

Henry:

That's a really stupid name.

Sara:

I know. Anyway, he took her to his evil lair.

Henry:

Where is this lair?

Sara:

I don't actually know, I do however have this convenient map. [Pulls out paper]

Henry:

That is part of the script.

Sara:

Shut up, it's a map.

[Henry snatches the map]

Henry:

In that case, I'll lead us to his castle.

Sara:

Not a castle. Its a fortress.

Henry:

Fortress schmotress, its that way.

[Points off stage]

Sara:

Are you sure? It looks to be that way.

[Points opposite of Henry]

Henry:

Don't be silly, lets go.

[Walks offstage. Lights darken. Lights come back up. Talk while going to other side.]

Sara:

I said that we-

Henry:

Shut up.

Sara:

The maps says-

Henry:

Shut up.

Sara:

East is not opposite of north.

Henry:

SHUT UP!

Sara:

Cam I just say one more thing?

Henry:

No.

Sara:

I told you so.

[Exit Henry and Sara]

[Blackout]

[Lights on]

Henry:

Well that was easy. You would think that he would have a moat or something.

Sara:

Moats are horribly expensive and mostly for show.

Henry:

I'm surprised that there aren't any guards. You figure that an evil wizard would have a minion or two, but it looks like-

[Guard jumps onstage]

Aha, you fell for my brilliant plot for living you out by insulting your master.

Guard:

Actually, I was getting dressed. What kind of moron invades a fortress in the middle of the day? You woke me from my nap.

Henry:

Shut up! My plan worked didn't I?

Sara:

You're all morons.

Guard:

No matter. I am here now. For the past years I've worked here and not one intruder has disturbed the master. He is so incredibly sure of my capabilities that he fired all the other guards. I know in my soul that you! Shall! Not! Pass!

[Charges Henry, who dispatches him instantly]

Sara:

Well that was anticlimactic.

Henry:

You were a worthy soldier, and I value your resistance.

[Exit Henry and Sara]

[Blackout. Lights up. Doors on each end.]

[Henry and Sara enter through one of the doors.]

Henry:

Where is he, where is the scoundrel Jack!

*Beat*

You sure this is the right place?

Sara:

No, but feel free to check every room in this fortress until you find them.

Henry:

I'd rather not.

*Offstage giggling*

What was that?

Sara:

The lascivious pleasings of a lute?

Henry:

What?

Sara:

A girl, most likely Margret.

Henry:

Who was she again?

Sara:

For crying out loud! She's the girl you've been searching for!

Henry:

Oh her, where is she?

Sara:

Probably somewhere in this room.

Henry:

Dammit! She could be anywhere!

Sara:

Well there is one door, which is where the sound is coming from…

*Beat*

Screw it.

[Opens door, Margret and Jack fall out, clearly just previously making out.]

Henry:

My soul and body! What is going on?

Sara:

When a man and a woman love each other-

Henry:

Not you, them!

Jack:

Well I was kissing this girl, how about you?

Henry:

I was busting my butt, crossing nonexistent moats, getting lost and eventually getting unlost, and fighting guards, all to save her! Which is why I shall now rescue you from his tyrannical grip.

*Beat*

I'm over here you know.

Margret:

I don't want to leave.

Henry:

I'm sorry what?

Margret:

I love this man. With all my heart and soul I love him.

Sara:

Oh my god more flashbacks.

Jack:

Will you please leave me now; I have things to see and people to do.

Henry:

No, I refuse! I reject your lines and substitute my own!

Jack:

Is it possible for you to make sense? Because right now I highly doubt that.

Henry:

Fight sir, and face my wrath!

Jack:

Alright.

[Claps his hands; everyone freezes. Jack walks up and punches him. Clap again and unfreeze]

I win.

Henry:

Dirty cheat! Resorting to cheap tricks!

Jack:

Would you prefer if I fought one handed?

Henry [Muttering]:

Yes please…

Jack:

Very well

[Pulls out wand]

Prepare to die.

Henry:

Crap, Little Bro/Sis!

[Enter younger sibling, who curls up into a ball. Henry crouches behind him/her]

HA HA! Now that I am in cover, I get a 4+ cover save which ignores your low Armor Piercing wand.

Jack:

Ignoring the technical jargon, you still aren't in cover. I can see you perfectly.

Henry:

No you can't

Jack:

Yes I can.

Henry:

No you can't!

Jack:

Yes I can, yes I can!

Henry:

Really? How many fingers am I holding up?

Jack:

Three.

*Beat*

Henry:

You still can't hit me…

Jack:

Watch me! *Begins chanting*

Sara:

Oh no, the super ultra unblockable instant death curse spell.

Jack:

Abracadabra!

Henry:

You missed.

Jack:

No I didn't, it hit you in the side!

Henry:

Then it passed through my clothing!

Jack:

Argh… Fine! Abracadabra!

Henry:

Miss.

Jack:

Abracadabra!

Henry:

Miss.

Jack:

Abracadabra!

Henry:

Miss.

Jack:

Abracadabra!

Henry:

Miss.

Sara:

Henry. Aren't you going to fight back?

Henry:

I was just waiting for an opening like the one you just gave me!

[Stands up]

D5!

Jack:

H-hit, you sunk… my battleship.

[Collapses]

Margret:

No!

[Rushes over to him]

Why? Why did you have to die?

Henry:

Because he was shooting me, weren't you paying attention?

Sara:

Henry, shut up.

Margret:

If only you could revive yourself and get up, to be with me again!

Henry:

That would ruin the sanctity of life and death! He awakening from eternal sleep violates all laws that nature has put in place-

Jack [Gets up]:

I'm up.

Margret:

Oh my soul and body!

Henry:

That isn't fair!

Jack:

Neither is Death, which I just avoided. Ha.

Henry:

I give up, kill me now.

Jack:

I don't care if you're dead, I just want you to leave us alone.

Sara:

I'll make sure he does that.

Jack:

Let's go my Dove

Margret:

Yes master!

[Exit Jack and Margret]

Sara:

Hey, you alright?

Henry:

Yeah, I'm just…

Sara:

Disappointed and ugly?

Henry:

Yes… wait…

Sara:

Don't e, you'll find another girl at some point I'm sure.

Henry:

Maybe, maybe not.

Sara:

Don't go emo on me now.

Henry:

Give me one good reason not to.

[Sara leans in and kisses him on the cheek]

Sara:

No more emo yes? [Henry nods] See you at the cast party.

[Exit Sara]

Henry:

Ha. Ha ha. *Laughter* I guess it really is true [Turns to audience]

Even an idiot like me can write a ten minute play.

[Exit Henry]

FIN

Meta Scene 1.5: The Transition Scene

Meta: The Transition Scene

A.K.A Scene 1.5

By Sean Jones

[Enter all actors, doing bows, any other traditions symbolizing the end of a show]

Director [in audience]:

Wait!

[Actors react in general confusion. The director gets out of the audience and walks onto the stage.]:

What was that? It was ten freaking minutes long!

Henry:

That was the show obviously, what else could it be?

Director:

Good, it could have been good.

Sara:

Are you saying that we did a bad job?

Director:

That is exactly what I am saying.

Jack:

That's ridiculous, not to mention totally not our fault.

Margret:

Yeah! After all, whose idea was it not to have rehearsal the past two weeks?

Henry:

By the way, why did you decide to do that?

Director:

Because… Because…

Sara:

Sorry, can't here you there.

Director:

Because shut up.

Sara:

What!

Direct:

You heard me, shut your trap. I know that I was a crappy director, but you know what, an artist is only as good as his tools.

Margret [To Sara]:

Did he just really call us tools?

Sara [To Margret]:

I think he did…

Jack:

Woah, we did a fine job, right guys?

Actors:

Right!

Director:

The lot of you are biased. It shouldn't count.

Henry:

A majority is a majority, so HA!

Director:

*Sigh* Fine. [Paces around a bit] Wait, I know how to beat your majority! [Turns to audience] Hey Audience!

Margret:

Oh no.

Direct:

We're going to take a poll.

Jack:

Don't you dare!

Director:

Everyone who liked this play say Aye!

Audience:

Aye!
[Director winces]

Director:

Well… That was…

Henry:

Awesome is the word I think you're looking for.

Director:

No no, we need to be fair. Everyone who didn't like the play say Nay!

Audience:

Nay.

Director:

I'm sorry, I'm a trifle dear in this ear, could you please try again?

Sara:

Hey, that's not-

Henry:

1, 2, 3!

Audience:

Nay!

Director:

Well, I guess I have to be fair. We'll call it a draw.

Jack:

What! They so loved us more!

Margret:

Dude, I think we should give up.

Director:

Yes, the play is ruined, we are doomed!

Henry:

Wait.

Director:

Hm?

Henry:

I have an idea!

Sara:

Oh My God I'm having flashbacks.

Director:

Yes Henry, what is it?

Henry:

We have some time until the next show starts…

Director:

We do, exactly 10 minutes.

Jack:

That is mighty convenient.

Director:

No matter! Now, who is ready for some improve?

Actors:

*Groan*

Sara:

Can we not? I hate improve.

Margret:

I think you're the only one who likes it.

Director:

We have to, the some must go on!

Jack:

The show technically already happened.

Henry:

Old buddy, old pal, shut up and get ready.

Margret:

Seriously guys, no improve, we are already straining the audiences patience as it.

Director:

Then what do you suppose we do then?

[Margret holds up the script that she picked up at the end of scene 1]

Margret:

This.

Director:

What? Those are just some blank pieces of paper I found backstage, what could that possibly do to help us. [Takes script]

*Beat*

There is a script here.

Sara:

We noticed.

Director:

But why?

Henry:

I had to write it, remember?

Director:

You didn't actually have to write one, you know that right?

Henry:

Really? That's lame.

Director:

How did you even write this in so little time?

Henry:

I drank the elixir. Besides, any moron can write a script that's only ten minutes long.

Director:

But the elixir wasn't…

Jack:

Director! [He puts arm around director and leads him away]

I think at this point, we should just go with it.

*Beat*

Director:

You are right. [ Goes back to group] I don't care how this happened, but let's go!

Sara:

But we don't know any of it!

Director:

You have one minute till places. Scatter!

[Actors scramble offstage]

*sigh* Such lovable scamps

[Walks to curtain and rolls underneath]

You techies ready?

Techies:

Yessir!

Director:
Good. Oh hey *Name of a actress*, need some help changing?

Actress:

Touch me and die.

Director:

If you say so.

*Slap*

[Director walks from under curtain. Slap mark noticeable]

Hello Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to scene to of Meta: Or How We Stopped Worrying and Learned to Write One Act. While it won't be the most… prepared performance ever seen, you will certainly find it the most sporadic. Well anyway, enjoy the show!

[Director goes into the audience]

Meta: Or, How We Stopped Worrying and Learned to Write a One-Act Scene One

By Sean "Florence" Jones

Personas:

Henry

Jack

Margret

Sara

Tim: Henry's little brother

[Lights come up, Set consists of two doors on opposite ends of the stage ]

Henry:

Alright Tim, do you remember everything I told you?

Tim:

Uh-huh.

Henry:

Then repeat it back to me.

Tim:

You said that you were going in the living room, and I am supposed to lock the door and never open it 'til you slide the script under the door.

Henry:

Good boy.

[Reaches out hand with the key, but Jack stops him]

Jack:

Dude, are you sure this is the best way? I mean we could just-

Henry:

Absolutely this is the best way! It's full proof, nothing could possibly

go wrong.

[Everyone puts their cell phones in a basket, and hands it and the key to Tim. All but Tim enter the through the right door]

Margret [aside to Sara]:

Can we trust these guys, I mean what if they try something?...

Sara [ aside to Margret]:

No problem, I got protection, just in case.

Henry:

Alright! We, as fellow classmates, who have been paired together, and why are we here?

Sara:

We have a project?

Henry:

Due?

Margret:

Tomorrow!

Henry:

Very good! And why is that?

Jack:

Cause the teach assigned it to us?

Henry:

Well, I was thinking more along the lines of "We were incredibly lazy and put it off until the absolutely last moment", but that is technically correct, so... Who has written a one act before?

-Beat-

Henry:

Ok, who has written anything, ever?

-Beat-

Henry:

Fine, whatever, it doesn't matter. Does anyone have any ideas?

Margret:

How about a romance?

All but Margret:

NO!

Sara:

After all, we do have to perform this in front of the class, so lets stay away from anything that would imply anything close to good will amongst each other.

Jack: Downer ain't ya?

Henry: I think that it would be hard to write anything like that, and as for performing in front of the class... We'll burn that bridge when we get to it.

Jack:

How about somthin' actiony?

Margret:

We don't have time to choreograph anything, which also knocks out anything with dancing...

Sara:

I got this, here's the title: The life and times of the gray stone, don't have to worry about blocking for it.

Henry:

No, Kyle's group is doing that, and believe me when I say I fought him tooth and nail for it. Besides, we need something... EPIC! I want to do a fantasy adventure. The story of a handsome hero and his trusted fairy sidekick as they kick the evil overlords-

Jack:

Didn't we just say that action was too much effort?

Margret:

Besides, it's only ten minutes.

Henry:

What?

Margret: The one act, it only has to be ten minutes.

Henry:

Really?

Sara:

Yeah, the teacher told us. Don't you two pay attention.

Jack:

Not really.

[Henry grabs a drink and sits down in between the girls]

Margret:

Hey!

Sara [Digusted] :

What the hell do you think you're doing?

Henry:

Calm down, do you realize how easy it is to write a ten minute play? Any idiot could do it. Besides, all work and no play make Henry a dull boy.

Sara:

First of all, I will pretend that you never uttered that phrase. Second, You will remove yourself from this piece of furniture without causing any sort of residual damage or disturbance or god forbid , casualty. That way it may go through a purging process to remove any taint that you have left behind. And no, I do not care that this is your couch, we very attractive ladies are sitting on it, so hence it is ours. If you refuse to comply, I will be forced to resort to corporeal punishment. And by that I mean electricity; lots and lots of electricity. That electricity will travel into your body and be converted to raw pain signals, sent from your body to your brain, making you believe that you are burning alive even though in reality you are only jittering and shaking as your nerves slowly attempt to reconnect themselves in order to perhaps try to fend me off. Alas, no, because in a poor accident, a large amount of voltage will find itself jammed into where your future children reside. This will make sure that you never trouble a woman the bother of carrying your children , while at the same time create a better world by ridding your stupidity and incompetence from the human gene pool. And years from now, when you are dying alone, not even supported by a hospital, you will look back and say with your last breath, "I am… so sorry…"

Henry:

Well, that was frighteningly specific.

[Henry gets up from the couch.

Margret:

Can we please just focus on thinking of an idea, seriously this time.

Jack:

Yeah man, I just want this to be over with.

Henry:

Fine, lets think.

[Time passes]

[Jack moans (Haku suggested overly sexual)]

Henry:

Jack, be quiet, we need to brainstorm.

-Beat-

Sara:

What time is it?

Margret:

I don't know, do either of you guys have a watch?

Jack and Henry:

No.

Henry:

And there's no clocks in here...

Sara:

I wonder, whose brilliant idea was it to leave our cell phones out there?

Henry:

I didn't want any distractions-

Sara:

You were the first one to take a break!

Jack:

Guys, can we just stop for a bit, my head hurts.

Sara:

What did I just say?

Margret:

Hey now give him a break, this is tiring.

Sara:

Not you too!

Jack:

Ugh, I'm going to the bathroom, anything to escape this bitch of a racket.

[Exeunt Jack]

Sara:

Oh no you did-

[Door slams and locks]

Sara:

-n't

Margret:

Ummm, he kinda just did...

Sara:

I know. Hey, Henry, do you possibly have any thoughts that are on a ever so slightly higher intellectual level as the idea of locking us in this room in the first place?

-Beat-

Henry:

I...

Sara:

Yes? If you're going to start a thought, at least attempt to finish it.

Henry:

I have an idea!

Sara:

Oh happy day!

Margret:

Shush now, before you knock it out of him.

Henry:

We can look up ideas on... [Dun dun dun!] the Internet!

Margret:

Never mind.

Sara:

Thanks for getting our hopes up!

Henry:

No, listen. The main problem with all of this is that we have nothing to jump off of, right? Therefore, once we have an idea, which the Internet has a surplus of, we can finish this assignment in record time!

[During all of this, Tim has pushed a couch to the door to barricade it, as well as putting on headphones to block out noise]

Henry: Hey! [Knocks on door] Hey, listen!

-Beat-

Shit.

Sara:

Whats wrong?

Henry:

He's not responding.

Margret:

Well we don' have the script, so he can't open the door. I'm sure his non-response is just his way of encouraging us.

Henry:

Dammit, we're rats in a cage.

Margret:

A vicious circle.

Sara:

Why did I ever agree to this?

-Beat-

Henry:

Well, -sigh- it looks like we only have one option.

Sara:

Really?

Margret:

What is it?

[Henry runs to the other door]

Henry:

Jack! Jack I need you!

Jack:

Just a moment.

[ sound of pouring liquid]

Ahhh...

[Jack throws open the door, bottle in hand]

I have heard your prayer, and after much reflection on the toilet, I have a solution.

Henry:

What? What is it?

Jack:

In this bottle lies a special liquid, that, when ingested, increases your energy exponentially.

Sara:

Whats the catch?

Jack:

Sadly, your life expectancy might drop a bit, but a couple of months when you're 110 years old is nothing.

Margret: That's crazy.

Henry:

So crazy, it just might-

Sara:

No no, just take the damn medicine already.

Henry:

Alright, bottoms up.

[Drinks medicine]

-Beat-

[Henry runs over to paper and starts working]

Henry:

Oh yes, this goes here, and that goes there. Everything is coming together perfectly!

Sara:

Holy crap, this is really good! Go Henry go!

Margret:

How did you find this miraculous medicine?

Jack:

The sink.

Margret:

The sink?

Jack:

It's water. In a fancy bottle.

Margret:

B-but how is he?...

Jack:

Ever hear of a placebo?

Margret:

A what?

Jack [to himself]:

For crying out loud.

Jack [to Margret]:

You know what, it's magic. I cast a spell on the water to to give whoever drinks it a renewed energy.

Margret:

That's amazing!

Jack:

That it is. Say, do you want to see another spell?

Margret:

Of course!

Jack:

Alright, close your eyes.

Margret:

But If my eyes are closed how will I see it?

Jack:

Just go with it.

[Margret closes eyes, Jack begins chanting]

Do you feel the magic?

Margret:

You bet I do!

Jack:

Alright, when I snap my fingers you will fall madly in love with the first person you see.

[Snaps finger]

Margret:

Jack, is that you?

Jack:

Yes?

Margret [speaks with something like disgust in her voice]

You... You're just.

Jack:

I know...

Margret:

So incredibly sexy.

Jack:

What now?

Margret:

I can't really explain it, but I think I love you, beyond all rhyme or reason I love you with all my soul and being.

[Jack shrugs to the audience]

Jack:

Hey, after this, do you want to go have-

Henry:

Done!

Sara:

Oh merciful heavens he finished!

[Turns to Henry]

That was so amazing-

[Henry cuts her off with a kiss. She slaps him and stabs him with a stun gun]

Henry:

AHHH!

Jack:

What the hell?

Margret:

Sara, what did you do?

Sara:

Just in case... And you!

Jack:

Me?

Sara:

Yes you, why did he do that?

Jack:

First off, I'm not his therapist, I don't know what convoluted things involving a USB cord and a tape measure goes on inside his head. But if I were to hazard a guess, I would say that he had some residual energy left over?

Margret:

Well he appears to have plenty of electrical energy now.

[Henry stumbles to his feet]

Henry:

What just happened?

Sara:

Nothing but a few thousand volts here and there. Oh, and the assignment is done.

Henry:

Seriously? That means we can leave!

Jack:

Suppose so yeah.

[Slides script under door]

Henry:

Tim! Oi, little bro, the scripts done.

[Tim snores]

Sara:

For crying out loud.

Jack:

Now what?

Margret:

Oh oh, use your magic Master!

Henry:

When did Jack become?...

Jack:

Alright! Now let me think.

-Beat-

Jack:

Why don't we just walk around?

Henry:

Walk around?

Sara:

What do you mean?

Jack:

Just follow me.

[They walk around the door]

Sara:

How did you-

Margret:

You're amazing Master!

Jack:

Yeah, just a bit.

Henry:

Hey Jack, lend me hand here.

[The two boys flip the couch, while the girls pick up the script. Then they all walk out, except Tim]

FIN

Finite Life Chapter Six: Tumble and Talk

I was able to get out of the school with relatively no troubles. There wasn’t any security that I needed to pass, no teachers to bother with, nor anyone asking questions as I did so. I suppose that since teachers decided to end class whenever they feel like, it wasn’t that unusual. This suited me just fine.

Finite Life Chapter Five: First Day Part Three

Ding dong ding dong. Ding dong ding dong.

The familar tune of a school bell’s chimes was comforting. It brought me a sense of relief, a feeling that, no matter how bizzare this place may be, at least there was a little thing like that which remained the same. Another thing that remained the same, yet was something I was not very happy about, was my complete lack of understanding of the course material that the class had just spent a good few hours going over. Thankfully, the teacher wasn’t keen on testing my knowledge again, and I was quite unsure- make that very sure- of my inability to get a right answer. I also did not want to relay on Minoru for answers again, though if things kept up like this, I very well might have to. An odd thing I noticed was how Mr. Yamamoto never called on Minoru, because I knew from experience that teachers loved to wake up students and ask them questions about things they slept through. I knew that extremely well.

Finite Life Chapter Four: First Day Part 2

The inside of the school was not unlike the inside to any other school. There probably wasn’t much variation that people could put into the halls of schools. It was still cleaner and nicer than any other school I have been to. Akane skipped ahead of us, leading us to our classroom. Aki stayed back behind her next to me. I could feel him studying me out of his peripheral vision, which was probably my fault because I was not so subtly doing the same thing to him. Eventually my own patience broke, and I returned to observing Akane’s less than stationary skirt. Once I did, I felt my internal body temperature drop ten degrees as a cold hard stare of daggers began to stab me. I turned back Aki, and found him glaring at me without any of attempts at being hidden that he had before. I wasn’t the only one who felt the glare, because Akane turned around and filed a glare of equal or greater strength in return. Then they stared at each other, unmoving, as if having a mental conversation among themselves.

Finite Life Chapter Three: First Day Part 1

I was in some girl's room, wearing her clothes and worst of all, inhabiting her body. Not that she seemed to mind, for if she existed at all anymore I doubt she was in a place that would interfere with me. I don't know how I got into this world, but I would leave it any way I can, even if it permanently destroyed the sentience of one girl. But that was the wrong way to think about things. I didn't know that I had stolen this bod from anyone! It could have merely been vacated when the owner moved to a different body.

Finite Life Chapter Two: The Beginnings of a Girl

You know the feeling you get when, after a long, hard day at school, you walk home, and just after you pull some frozen chicken slices out of the icebox you notice you have a cut on your hand that you didn’t notice all day, and the rest of your night is spent wondering just how the hell it happened?

Yeah, neither do I.

The Finite Life of a Dating Sim Heroine Chapter One: The "Real World"

Twenty minutes until school is over. The year exercise in futility would end, and all the education of thousands of teenagers in all of Japan would halt as they spent their summer trying to capture the wonder and youth that they were entitled to.

Fifteen minutes until summer vacation, where the beaches were full, the teachers asleep, and the girls were barely clothed. Everyone gave up work, putting themselves entirely to relaxing and relieving themselves of half a year of stress.

Ten minutes until I lost my freedom. No longer could I rely on school to catch up on hours upon hours of sleep lost at my night job. No, instead my daytime hours would be spent working, just like nighttime.

Five minutes until I was to visit my father. It was the one day of actual rest that my mother absolutely insisted on, when she wasn’t to busy drinking or sleeping around. Despite my general dislike for my father, I was fine with meeting him and my sister for a day. I slept over there, and then got up next morning for my first day of daytime work in almost a year.

There it was, the distinct sound of a bell ringing, of students celebrating as they rushed out of the building. It was the sound of a new summer, a sound that I had dreaded for the past five years.

My name is Michio Fujii, and I hate summer.