<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707644074471168566</id><updated>2012-02-15T23:08:03.006-08:00</updated><category term='life'/><title type='text'>Mutt-y Minded</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muttyminded.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6707644074471168566/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muttyminded.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Sid</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07583262000126272533</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>13</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707644074471168566.post-2995139308710111003</id><published>2008-08-11T08:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-11T08:46:47.710-07:00</updated><title type='text'>GOOD VARIOUS GODS</title><content type='html'>UGH WE START SCHOOL SOON AND I HAVEN'T UPDATED SINC WE GOT OUT!!!! I'M A HORRIBLE PERSON I KNOW.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We start school on Wednesday, and as happy as I will be to see my friends, I just wish it wasn't at school... Nana and Janie start in like another two weeks. Whores. NANA, JANIE I L Y. Kyle's a weird pedo, and apparently still likes me. I've got to becareful with that one. Can't give him the wrong idea. He was practically yelling at Iggy because he doesn't know how to deal with his issues (which is probably why he has other problems).&lt;br /&gt;I saw my baby the other day. This gorgeous Ducati S2R 8oo. SOOOOOO PRETTY!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I got to sit on it this time too. Good Gods that thing is, like, made for me. I'm getting my passport photos taken today, and am still freaking out about Dad not paying into the trip yet.&lt;br /&gt;I'm still trying to get some shit done on JoH (which hasn't been very successful so far). I started up with Imaginary Boobs again though. And I'm still working on Mutt and Skylar (as always). Which is funny, because I don't have a title for their story. Well... a set one anyway.&lt;br /&gt;I haven't updated my dA in a while, but I hope to fix that soon. I really want to get back on the ball. At least a weekly update for both my dA and here. Maybe every Monday or something. 'Cause Gods know that I need something to brighten my Mondays.&lt;br /&gt;Can't remember how long 'til Paris right now.&lt;br /&gt;That's about all. :)&lt;br /&gt;Ciao&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6707644074471168566-2995139308710111003?l=muttyminded.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muttyminded.blogspot.com/feeds/2995139308710111003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6707644074471168566&amp;postID=2995139308710111003' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6707644074471168566/posts/default/2995139308710111003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6707644074471168566/posts/default/2995139308710111003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muttyminded.blogspot.com/2008/08/good-various-gods.html' title='GOOD VARIOUS GODS'/><author><name>Sid</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07583262000126272533</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707644074471168566.post-3371629014564408945</id><published>2008-06-02T08:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-02T08:33:50.399-07:00</updated><title type='text'>SCHOOL'S OUT FOR SUMMER</title><content type='html'>YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;SCHOOL IS OUT! SCHOOL IS OUT! SCHOOL IS OUT!&lt;br /&gt;I'm so happy! Finals are done, I've had at least 10 hours of sleep &lt;i&gt;per day&lt;/i&gt;. I've got new music on my iPod and I'm trying to get a job. Sounds exciting right? Not when you've got sunburn like no other mother fuckers ever been. I went shopping with my sister yesterday and got a new pair of shorts (they're great I love 'em). There's not really anything going on. Linda's out of town until Wednesday and that makes this house free of weirdness (aside from th actual weirdness that isn't caused by her hating me).&lt;br /&gt;I've gone swimming already, and got really burned (as previously noted). It hurts A LOT. My brother got this RC Helicopter, and is driving me insane. And I had a little bit of a whore moment with the guy from Lagoo Magoo, Ian.&lt;br /&gt;I updated my dA account and I feel good. :D&lt;br /&gt;That's all for now, folks!&lt;br /&gt;~Tobye&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6707644074471168566-3371629014564408945?l=muttyminded.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muttyminded.blogspot.com/feeds/3371629014564408945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6707644074471168566&amp;postID=3371629014564408945' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6707644074471168566/posts/default/3371629014564408945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6707644074471168566/posts/default/3371629014564408945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muttyminded.blogspot.com/2008/06/schools-out-for-summer.html' title='SCHOOL&apos;S OUT FOR SUMMER'/><author><name>Sid</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07583262000126272533</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707644074471168566.post-3524561678564641160</id><published>2008-05-12T12:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-12T12:03:22.678-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jack of Hearts 2</title><content type='html'>Jack of Hearts (Part 2)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We sat on the couch for a while longer, chatting like there hadn’t been a day that I hadn’t seen him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually, I moved back to where I’d dropped my groceries the night before. They were exactly where I’d left them.&lt;br /&gt;“You couldn’t put the groceries away?”&lt;br /&gt;Jack shrugged, having followed me into the kitchen. “Kind of hard to do when you don’t have opposable thumbs.”&lt;br /&gt;I stopped, giving him the look that said he was being a smart mouth. Then again, that was his nature.&lt;br /&gt;Shaking my head, I threw a can of soup at him (he caught it of course; I had no doubt in my mind that he would).&lt;br /&gt;“Just help me put the groceries away.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“So what’s the plan for the rest of the day?”&lt;br /&gt;Jack’s question surprised me in all honesty. I looked over at the clock and felt my heart sink. In my head the count down started.&lt;br /&gt;5…4…3…2…&lt;br /&gt;Ring-ring!&lt;br /&gt;Even though I’d been expecting it, my phone still startled me. Jack looked over with an eyebrow raised as I plucked the receiver out of the cradle.&lt;br /&gt;“Hello, Lucifer,” I said, trying not to smile.&lt;br /&gt;“That’s the second day, Mollie.”&lt;br /&gt;“I know. I ran into a bit of unexpected trouble.”&lt;br /&gt;I heard my boss’ dry chuckle float over the line. “Did your mother pop in for a visit?”&lt;br /&gt;Even I laughed at that. “No…an old friend decided to pull rank on me.”&lt;br /&gt;“Who?” Lucy sounded genuinely curious. “Surely not ol’ Jack.”&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I forget that both Jack and I interned at the Devil’s company while we were in college.&lt;br /&gt;She didn’t wait for me to answer her.&lt;br /&gt;“Bring him in,” she snapped. “I’ve got a job for him.”&lt;br /&gt;And that was the end of that. Lucy hung up without another word. I looked over at Jack, who had a deep-set scowl on his face.&lt;br /&gt;“Now I remember why I left town,” he muttered. “She’s such a demanding Pack Leader.”&lt;br /&gt;I blinked owlishly. Lucy ―the red-haired corporate giant― went and bayed at the moon every night. I couldn’t help but laugh at the thought. It was ridiculous!&lt;br /&gt;Jack just looked at me. “What? You couldn’t tell?”&lt;br /&gt;I shook my head, choking on laughter and holding back tears.&lt;br /&gt;He threw his hands up in a wild gesture, “She walks around in those neck breakers and doesn’t make a sound! How can you do that and not be a werewolf?!”&lt;br /&gt;Poog if I knew.&lt;br /&gt;[[INSERT BREAK]]&lt;br /&gt;Now, I really didn’t want to bring Jack into work with me. And not because the fact that he only had clothes I’d stolen from him in high school on. Nope. That had absolutely nothing to do with it.&lt;br /&gt;It was the fact that Jack was as jumpy as a fox in the hen house.&lt;br /&gt;“Jack… are you sure you want to go?” I asked him through the door of the bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;He’d basically locked himself in there ever since he’d overheard (what with his super Wolf hearing and all) my conversation with Lucy. He’d used my shower, used my toilette… I had no idea what he was doing now.&lt;br /&gt;“I don’t want to go, Mollie,” he explained, sounding put off. “I don’t have a choice on going or not. Now that I’m here… she’s the Pack Leader I fall under.”&lt;br /&gt;Oh. Man. I wouldn’t want to go see Lucy either if she had the power to dictate everything I did (well she practically does already, but this was an entirely different thing).&lt;br /&gt;“She didn’t say we had to go immediately,” I said, trying to make my friend feel better.&lt;br /&gt;The door finally opened, and gave me a wicked glare. “With Lucy immediately goes unsaid.”&lt;br /&gt;I stepped back and he crowded into the little hall with me. His hair was shorter, framing his face now.&lt;br /&gt;“Have a fun time with the scissors?” I snickered.&lt;br /&gt;Jack gave me another glare, this time running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. Just wish I could have seen what I was doing though.”&lt;br /&gt;I pat him on the shoulder (although it was a bit of a reach) and stood on my toes to ruffle his hair. “Not bad,” I said. “A little choppy...”&lt;br /&gt;Of course I wasn’t going to say that I thought it looked good. Not out loud anyway. I’d never hear the end of it if I did that. Then again, I never hear the end of anything with him anyway.&lt;br /&gt;“Ready to go?” I asked, slipping on shoes.&lt;br /&gt;“As I’ll ever be…” he grumbled.&lt;br /&gt;[[INSERT BREAK]]&lt;br /&gt;People waved at me as we passed then had to do a double take when they saw Jack. It’s not everyday someone walks in that’s a head taller than six feet (aside from Lucy that is) and doesn’t have any shoes on.&lt;br /&gt;I snickered as we passed Lucy’s secretary, whose mouth gaped open at the sight of Jack.&lt;br /&gt;“What are you laughing about?” Jack hissed, striding up next to me.&lt;br /&gt;“Oh nothing…just recalling something about first impressions.”&lt;br /&gt;“Right. My tail end.”&lt;br /&gt;I linked my arm with his, pushing the door to Lucy’s office inwards.&lt;br /&gt;“To bad the Devil isn’t in Georgia,” Jack muttered, grimacing.&lt;br /&gt;“If she was,” I said. “It’d be a dream come true.”&lt;br /&gt;The red-haired woman sat behind her desk, hunched over a pile of papers bigger around than she was.&lt;br /&gt;“It’s about time,” she snapped, not even bothering to look up.&lt;br /&gt;Lucy McNamara was the only person I had worked for my entire life. She was the meanest, snippiest, bossiest person I’ve ever known. I don’t know why I worked for her.&lt;br /&gt;“Jack,” she huffed, after scribbling something out (and finally looking at us).&lt;br /&gt;“Yes ma’am?” Jack seemed to straighten, becoming a perfect little corporate soldier.&lt;br /&gt;“You’re now Mollie’s partner in media research and marketing,” she seemed to command it with such an off-handed tone that I wanted to laugh.&lt;br /&gt;What a shrew.&lt;br /&gt;“Yes ma’am,” was Jack’s sharp reply.&lt;br /&gt;“Mollie.”&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to repeatedly bash my head against the heavy marble topped desk in front of me at how shrill her voice was, but then again... that happened every time she spoke. She’s such a successful sadist that she makes others want to harm themselves.&lt;br /&gt;“Yes, Lucifer?” I asked, the sweetness in my voice even making me sick.&lt;br /&gt;“Show him the projects you guys are working on now,” she smiled, then turned back to her papers. “Then you two can take the rest week off and catch up.”&lt;br /&gt;Now I remember. That was why I worked for the Devil.&lt;br /&gt;[[INSERT BREAK]]&lt;br /&gt;“And that is how we are going to get people to go eco-friendly.”&lt;br /&gt;I was smiling. Grinning. Beaming! It was Wednesday and now, thanks to the devil incarnate that was my boss, I got to spend the rest of the week with Jack. Cool right? Absolutely.&lt;br /&gt;“That’s pretty big, Molls,” Jack hm-ed. “Do you thinking people will do that?”&lt;br /&gt;The bark of laughter that erupted from my throat rivaled that of the cackle that came from Lucy’s. “We’re not in this industry for nothing, Jack. It only takes a little effort to brainwash people nowadays.”&lt;br /&gt;He chuckled with me, clapping me on the back. “True enough... is it time to leave now?”&lt;br /&gt;I shut off my computer and practically danced around my station, checking things that needed to be checked. “Yup!”&lt;br /&gt;“Good!” Jack heaved a great big sigh, and grabbed my hand to drag me out of the building. “So can we get food now?”&lt;br /&gt;“Haven’t I fed you enough?” I asked, trying not to trip as he hurried me along.&lt;br /&gt;“Apparently not. Chinese?”&lt;br /&gt;“Had it the day you decided to knock down my door.”&lt;br /&gt;“Oh right. I knew something smelled good. Thai?”&lt;br /&gt;I shook my head. “Too similar to Chinese.”&lt;br /&gt;“Euro-café? I know you’ve always liked the delicate little snacks they have.”&lt;br /&gt;“Nope, hungrier than that.”&lt;br /&gt;Jack stopped, looking over his shoulder to give me the evil eye. “Have you always put up this much of a fight with everything?”&lt;br /&gt;“Only when it involves you.” I gave him a sweet smile.&lt;br /&gt;“Geez, you’re evil.”&lt;br /&gt;“And you’re still holding my hand.”&lt;br /&gt;Face turning red, he dropped the appendage, and looked down at his feet.&lt;br /&gt;“Sushi?”&lt;br /&gt;Smiling, I marched the rest of the way to my car. “Raw fish? Ew.”&lt;br /&gt;He was over his sudden bashfulness in a second. “Cripes! There is no pleasing you is there?!”&lt;br /&gt;I smacked him on the arm as I unlocked the car. “Can you settle for sandwiches, you bottomless pit?”&lt;br /&gt;He ducked into my car, grinning like an idiot. “Only if you think we can get ‘em before I get furry again.”&lt;br /&gt;I almost growled, shaking my head and turning the engine over.&lt;br /&gt;“Fine. But since you’re staying with me, you are earning your keep until you can get your own place.”&lt;br /&gt;“What? Do I get to do your laundry?” he snickered, a goofy grin on his face.&lt;br /&gt;“You aren’t getting anywhere near my skivvies, Jack. Bottom-line. No, you get to do the dishes.”&lt;br /&gt;“I thought you had a dishwasher?”&lt;br /&gt;I smiled, “You get to fix that.”&lt;br /&gt;His smile deflated. “Great.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6707644074471168566-3524561678564641160?l=muttyminded.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muttyminded.blogspot.com/feeds/3524561678564641160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6707644074471168566&amp;postID=3524561678564641160' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6707644074471168566/posts/default/3524561678564641160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6707644074471168566/posts/default/3524561678564641160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muttyminded.blogspot.com/2008/05/jack-of-hearts-2.html' title='Jack of Hearts 2'/><author><name>Sid</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07583262000126272533</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707644074471168566.post-6972365838214035009</id><published>2008-05-08T12:10:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T12:10:40.235-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jack of Hearts II</title><content type='html'>We sat on the couch for a while longer, chatting like there hadn’t been a day that I hadn’t seen him.&lt;br /&gt;Eventually, I moved back to where I’d dropped my groceries the night before. They were exactly where I’d left them.&lt;br /&gt;“You couldn’t put the groceries away?”&lt;br /&gt;Jack shrugged, having followed me into the kitchen. “Kind of hard to do when you don’t have opposable thumbs.”&lt;br /&gt;I stopped, giving him the look that said he was being a smart mouth. Then again, that was his nature.&lt;br /&gt;Shaking my head, I threw a can of soup at him (he caught it of course; I had no doubt in my mind that he would).&lt;br /&gt;“Just help me put the groceries away.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“So what’s the plan for the rest of the day?”&lt;br /&gt;Jack’s question surprised me in all honesty. I looked over at the clock and felt my heart sink. In my head the count down started.&lt;br /&gt;5…4…3…2…&lt;br /&gt;Ring-ring!&lt;br /&gt;Even though I’d been expecting it, my phone still startled me. Jack looked over with an eyebrow raised as I plucked the receiver out of the cradle.&lt;br /&gt;“Hello, Lucifer,” I said, trying not to smile.&lt;br /&gt;“That’s the second day, Mollie.”&lt;br /&gt;“I know. I ran into a bit of unexpected trouble.”&lt;br /&gt;I heard my boss’ dry chuckle float over the line. “Did your mother pop in for a visit?”&lt;br /&gt;Even I laughed at that. “No…an old friend decided to pull rank on me.”&lt;br /&gt;“Who?” Lucy sounded genuinely curious. “Surely not ol’ Jack.”&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I forget that both Jack and I interned at the Devil’s company while we were in college.&lt;br /&gt;She didn’t wait for me to answer her.&lt;br /&gt;“Bring him in,” she snapped. “I’ve got a job for him.”&lt;br /&gt;And that was the end of that. Lucy hung up without another word. I looked over at Jack, who had a deep-set scowl on his face.&lt;br /&gt;“Now I remember why I left town,” he muttered. “She’s such a demanding Pack Leader.”&lt;br /&gt;I blinked owlishly. Lucy ―the red-haired corporate giant― went and bayed at the moon every night. I couldn’t help but laugh at the thought. It was ridiculous!&lt;br /&gt;Jack just looked at me. “What? You couldn’t tell?”&lt;br /&gt;I shook my head, choking on laughter and holding back tears.&lt;br /&gt;He threw his hands up in a wild gesture, “She walks around in those neck breakers and doesn’t make a sound! How can you do that and not be a werewolf?!”&lt;br /&gt;Poog if I knew.&lt;br /&gt;[[INSERT BREAK]]&lt;br /&gt;Now, I really didn’t want to bring Jack into work with me. And not because the fact that he only had clothes I’d stolen from him in high school on. Nope. That had absolutely nothing to do with it.&lt;br /&gt;It was the fact that Jack was as jumpy as a fox in the hen house.&lt;br /&gt;“Jack… are you sure you want to go?” I asked him through the door of the bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;He’d basically locked himself in there ever since he’d overheard (what with his super Wolf hearing and all) my conversation with Lucy. He’d used my shower, used my toilette… I had no idea what he was doing now.&lt;br /&gt;“I don’t want to go, Mollie,” he explained, sounding put off. “I don’t have a choice on going or not. Now that I’m here… she’s the Pack Leader I fall under.”&lt;br /&gt;Oh. Man. I wouldn’t want to go see Lucy either if she had the power to dictate everything I did (well she practically does already, but this was an entirely different thing).&lt;br /&gt;“She didn’t say we had to go immediately,” I said, trying to make my friend feel better.&lt;br /&gt;The door finally opened, and gave me a wicked glare. “With Lucy immediately goes unsaid.”&lt;br /&gt;I stepped back and he crowded into the little hall with me. His hair was shorter, framing his face now.&lt;br /&gt;“Have a fun time with the scissors?” I snickered.&lt;br /&gt;Jack gave me another glare, this time running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. Just wish I could have seen what I was doing though.”&lt;br /&gt;I pat him on the shoulder (although it was a bit of a reach) and stood on my toes to ruffle his hair. “Not bad,” I said. “A little choppy...”&lt;br /&gt;Of course I wasn’t going to say that I thought it looked good. Not out loud anyway. I’d never hear the end of it if I did that. Then again, I never hear the end of anything with him anyway.&lt;br /&gt;“Ready to go?” I asked, slipping on shoes.&lt;br /&gt;“As I’ll ever be…” he grumbled.&lt;br /&gt;[[INSERT BREAK]]&lt;br /&gt;People waved at me as we passed then had to do a double take when they saw Jack. It’s not everyday someone walks on that’s a head taller than six feet (aside from Lucy that is) and doesn’t have any shoes.&lt;br /&gt;I snickered as we passed Lucy’s secretary, whose mouth gaped open at the sight of Jack.&lt;br /&gt;“What are you laughing about?” Jack hissed, striding up next to me.&lt;br /&gt;“Oh nothing…just recalling something about first impressions.”&lt;br /&gt;“Right. My tail end.”&lt;br /&gt;I linked my arm with his, pushing the door to Lucy’s office inwards.&lt;br /&gt;“To bad the Devil isn’t in Georgia,” Jack muttered, grimacing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6707644074471168566-6972365838214035009?l=muttyminded.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muttyminded.blogspot.com/feeds/6972365838214035009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6707644074471168566&amp;postID=6972365838214035009' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6707644074471168566/posts/default/6972365838214035009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6707644074471168566/posts/default/6972365838214035009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muttyminded.blogspot.com/2008/05/jack-of-hearts-ii_08.html' title='Jack of Hearts II'/><author><name>Sid</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07583262000126272533</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707644074471168566.post-7833465891109641314</id><published>2008-04-01T19:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-01T19:44:57.369-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='life'/><title type='text'>Hope I start talking crazy, before you can understand me</title><content type='html'>Okay, so I'm most definitely done with this Dahmer paper.&lt;br /&gt;Not literally but Hell, it's due Thursday. I have Massey-bastard's class tomorrow, and I got an Ugly Doll!!!!!!! I LOVE HIM!! His name is Peaco and he has three eyes. I love him. I got some more Sudoku books today when I went to the mall with DJ.&lt;br /&gt;There were some absolutely gorgeous guys at the toy store I got those from. Ian and Brian. They were totally hitting on the A-squad man. Although, Sam might hate me if I told him. So, shh~ ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's really all for now. EW. MAP TEST FOR THE NEXT LIKE WEEK AND A HALF. YUK.&lt;br /&gt;Ciao!&lt;br /&gt;Tobye&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6707644074471168566-7833465891109641314?l=muttyminded.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muttyminded.blogspot.com/feeds/7833465891109641314/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6707644074471168566&amp;postID=7833465891109641314' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6707644074471168566/posts/default/7833465891109641314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6707644074471168566/posts/default/7833465891109641314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muttyminded.blogspot.com/2008/04/hope-i-start-talking-crazy-before-you.html' title='Hope I start talking crazy, before you can understand me'/><author><name>Sid</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07583262000126272533</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707644074471168566.post-2303766993984855761</id><published>2008-03-27T19:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-27T19:44:58.288-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Okay, so I definately feel like crap</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;UGH&lt;br /&gt;I FUCKING HATE RESEARCH PAPERS.&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They're fucking bogus. Especially when you have to do one about Jeffrey fucking Dahmer. I'm going to go crazy if I have to write anymore about that sick bastard. I swear. I mean it wouldn't be so bad if we didn't have to do a research paper on American Crime, but COME ON.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay. I'm done. I swear. No more Dahmer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things have been pretty crazy lately.I have to take th MAP test next week, I've got a crazy big amounts of homework in Trig and Alg. II, I've got a creative nonfiction I have to write for CWC and I ain't getting a whole Hell of a lot of sleep lately. AND I HAVE A HEALTH PROJECT THAT I HAVEN'T EVEN STARTED YET. I know I'll be okay once I get this Dahmer thing out of the way. But until then, I can only hope that the rest of my teachers take it easy on me.I'm glad I can get away with sleeping in half of my classes.&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm done for now.&lt;br /&gt;Ciao,&lt;br /&gt;Tobye&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6707644074471168566-2303766993984855761?l=muttyminded.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muttyminded.blogspot.com/feeds/2303766993984855761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6707644074471168566&amp;postID=2303766993984855761' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6707644074471168566/posts/default/2303766993984855761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6707644074471168566/posts/default/2303766993984855761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muttyminded.blogspot.com/2008/03/okay-so-i-definately-feel-like-crap.html' title='Okay, so I definately feel like crap'/><author><name>Sid</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07583262000126272533</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707644074471168566.post-6290626144696162030</id><published>2008-02-29T12:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-29T12:06:06.304-08:00</updated><title type='text'>TSkM</title><content type='html'>The first time I saw my mother pull on that mask, was the only time I can say I feared for my life. I had no idea what that mask meant. Well, at least I didn't then.&lt;br /&gt;I'd come down the hall to say goodnight, and had opened my mother's door to quite a scene.&lt;br /&gt;She'd been sitting peacefully on the edge of her bed, arguing with another masked creature that scared the living daylights out of me. It spoke out of its neck, where a frightening mouth full of razor sharp teeth opened.&lt;br /&gt;"Well, well. Seems like we have a little spy," it rumbled. "Come to steal away the stars and gobble them up have you?"&lt;br /&gt;I hadn't been looking at the monster, but when I did, it was looking straight back at me.&lt;br /&gt;My mother gasped, and immediately got up to approach me.&lt;br /&gt;"Étoile, what are you doing? You should be in bed!"&lt;br /&gt;She had sounded upset, like any mother would have been; but behind that was a fear that I'd never heard from her before.&lt;br /&gt;"Mama, what's going on?" I remember asking her.&lt;br /&gt;She sighed when there was a comment from the creature behind her, in a language I didn't understand then.&lt;br /&gt;"Go to bed, dear," she almost ordered. "I'll tell you in the morning.”&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I wondered if my Mom had just been waiting to pass the Manifesto onto me; because the moment she handed me that mask, that lifelong duty, she was getting flighty. She would leave the house, go out of town for any reason she could find (and she would always look for a reason I couldn’t go with her).&lt;br /&gt;Then the day I turned eighteen... she had her car packed up and ready to go, trying to find the first flight to anywhere.&lt;br /&gt;At first I thought it had been a, you know, a mommy-and-me road trip but when I walked out to get in the car.&lt;br /&gt;“You can’t leave, honey,” she said softly.&lt;br /&gt;I was puzzled then started laughing. “What are you talking about, Mom?”&lt;br /&gt;“You. Can’t. Leave.” She said again. “The contract won’t let you.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she got in her car, and simply drove away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can’t tell you just how many weeks I spent after that, trying to get away from the town, even if it was just an inch outside that city line. It never worked though. Something would always happen; something would always get in the way. Car crashes, highway construction― things that all seemed pretty natural. Then. Oh then, weird things started happening. I would start to feel nauseous the closer I got to the city line. I would black out as soon as I stepped on or over the line.&lt;br /&gt;The weirdest one was my final attempt to step over that confining boundary. I’d gotten out of my car a few hundred feet away from my invisible fence, and had simply started walking towards it.&lt;br /&gt;That was how I met Brother.&lt;br /&gt;He’d come out of the tree line on the side of the road, laughing out of that gaping hole in his neck that was his mouth. He turned toward me, that mask hiding his face, much like the one I’d inherited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scared out of my mind, I’d frozen, trying to ignore that little click of recognition in the back of my mind.&lt;br /&gt;“You’re mother tried the exact same thing when she became the Star-keeper,” he roared in laughter, as if it were the funniest thing in the world.&lt;br /&gt;And to him it probably was.&lt;br /&gt;“You can’t leave, Étoile. It violates the Contract and as your Brother, I can’t let you walk across that line. I’ve been taking it easy on you lately. But if you try this again I will kill you.”&lt;br /&gt;And that silly grin had been plastered across his throat the whole time he had said that.&lt;br /&gt;I was starting to wonder why no one had stopped or there hadn’t been any accidents yet because of Brother being out in the open.&lt;br /&gt;“I have a mask, Étoile. No one else can see me. All they are seeing is you standing out here. All by yourself.”&lt;br /&gt;Then, I’d been outraged. Someone could have come over and gotten this monster away from me, and I could have walked right on over that line without any trouble― because apparently he’d been the one causing all of those things to happen to me.&lt;br /&gt;My anger had fueled me to keep walking forward, regardless of the consequences at this point in time.&lt;br /&gt;“This is your last warning, girl,” he growled, grin dropping.&lt;br /&gt;“THIS IS YOUR FAULT!” I had shouted at him.&lt;br /&gt;“Perhaps it is,” he said very curtly, getting to his feet and out of the grass. “It’s not that horrible, Étoile. I’ve been stuck in this forsaken town since the Stars fell. At least at some point you can leave.”&lt;br /&gt;That’s when I’d realized I’d stopped, slightly mollified by his words. He was right. I knew he was. I just had to find a way to cope with the Contract until I could pass it on to someone else.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The store was extremely busy today. The door was opening and closing almost non stop, and the bell I had put in the door frame was driving me INSANE. I had no idea why everyone suddenly wanted flowers today. Had something happened?&lt;br /&gt;The only other time the store was this busy was on Prom week, though you don’t hear me complaining. More flowers gone, meant more flowers in, which meant more money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nearer to the end of the day, the bell in the door frame had been so generously taken down by one of the taller men that had come in (because Lord knows I couldn’t reach that high). So I hadn’t heard my latest customer come in.&lt;br /&gt;I was pulling some flowers from the large, glass door-ed refrigerator, when he came in and couldn’t hear him clear his throat over the hum of electricity running through the giant machine.&lt;br /&gt;“EXCUSE ME,” was what surprised me out of the flower arranging task I had set myself to.&lt;br /&gt;“Oh I’m sorry,” I said, trying to calm my now racing heart. “How may I help you?”&lt;br /&gt;“I need a small bouquet of daffodils.”&lt;br /&gt;I rushed over behind the counter, to find my order pad and tried not to rip the pen that had gotten tangled in my hair. &lt;br /&gt;“Alright, may I have I have your name, sir?” I asked, actually getting a look at him this time.&lt;br /&gt;The angles in his face were strange, almost harsh, and his eyes were a pale gold. Shaggy brown-black hair hung slightly past his shoulders, and he was almost scary tall. “Coyote.”&lt;br /&gt;“Were your parents hippies?” I asked before I had time to stop myself.&lt;br /&gt;“The originals,” he grinned, almost as if he were used to it.&lt;br /&gt;I was trying to get over the embarrassment of actually having blurted that out. “Oh.”&lt;br /&gt;“Don’t worry. I get that all the time.”&lt;br /&gt;“And your last name, sir?” I asked, trying to get back to business mode.&lt;br /&gt;He raised an eyebrow at me. “What if I don’t have one?”&lt;br /&gt;I tried not to go ballistic at that, hoping that years of anger management would help. “You don’t have a last name?”&lt;br /&gt;“Never have. Don’t plan to change that now.”&lt;br /&gt;“That’s hard to believe, sir,” I said, hoping it wasn’t to painfully obvious that I was gritting my teeth for all they were worth.&lt;br /&gt;“How much are the flowers, Miss?” he asked, a smugly amused look on his face, almost as if he knew how much this was getting under my skin.&lt;br /&gt;“For a bouquet of how many, sir?” I asked.&lt;br /&gt;“Why are you angry with me?”&lt;br /&gt;“I’m not angry. How many flowers would you like sir?”&lt;br /&gt;I heard his slightly put off sigh. “One bouquet of seven and then I’ll take however many odd flowers it’ll take to keep you from being angry with me.”&lt;br /&gt;“I’m not angry with you,” I said as gently as I could.&lt;br /&gt;“Tch. Now you’re just lying through your teeth.”&lt;br /&gt;I gripped my pen until my knuckles were white. “Sir, I close in fifteen minutes. I do not want to still be here arguing with you on whether I am angry or not. So there is only going to be one bouquet of seven daffodils, alright?”&lt;br /&gt;I slapped my pen onto the pad of paper I had just taken his order on and marched back to the back of the store. “Come back in ten minutes!” I hollered.&lt;br /&gt;I went back into the workshop; to do the work I had just been given. And, thinking he had taken my advice, I threw a heavy piece of matte boars into the back door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What on earth was that?” I jumped, facing the otherwise quiet man that was standing in the doorway.&lt;br /&gt;“I knew you were angry.”&lt;br /&gt;“Shut up,” I barked at him, and opened the back door to the flower-fridge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It didn’t take me long to get the flowers cut and wrapped at all, I’d been doing this same thing since I was old enough to work (which was funny enough, because along with the Manifesto I’d gotten the family flower shop).&lt;br /&gt;“Here,” I growled and shoved the flowers at him. “That’s ten dollars with a discount for you to never come back to my shop again.”&lt;br /&gt;Coyote snorted at me. “For making you angry? That hardly seems fair.”&lt;br /&gt;I walked casually over to the door, holding it open for him. “Yeah? Well, it’s my store. Don’t plan to change that now.”&lt;br /&gt;I was mocking him now and happy about it, because it was the truth too. I was my store.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;“The NERVE of that guy!!” I shouted.&lt;br /&gt;“Oh I know what you mean. That happens to me all the time.”&lt;br /&gt;I threw a shoe at Brother’s head, hearing a satisfying grunt of pain.&lt;br /&gt;“What was that for?!” he growled, and snapped up the shoe I had just thrown in his mouth.&lt;br /&gt;“DON’T. YOU. DARE.” I spat out, storming over to grab the shoe out of his jaws. “If you eat another one of my shoes, Brother, I WILL hurt you.”&lt;br /&gt;The gaping mouth opened so he could stick his tongue out at me.&lt;br /&gt;“You threw it.” Brother pushed the Aquarius pitcher at me, and I could hear the stars whirling around inside the thick glass. “C’mon, girl. We have to get going.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I snarled. “Yeah, yeah. People wanna see the Stars.”&lt;br /&gt;Walking to my dresser, I pulled the sash of my Star-keeper ‘uniform’ a little tighter around the waist. I slid the heavy red and white mask over my face before slinging the Aquarius Pitcher over my shoulder.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I thought being the Star-keeper was the coolest thing.&lt;br /&gt;No one was out after dark until I put the Stars out, and I could see people watching for me to come by with Brother, pop the cork on the Aquarius Pitcher and slowly fish a handful of stars out to put in the lamps high above the houses.&lt;br /&gt;I’d always wondered how the Stars got up there when I was little, but now I didn’t even think about it. I would get onto Brother’s shoulders and he would simply stand on his hind legs. Occasionally, I wouldn’t even get down once the Stars were in the lamps and would just get piggy-backed all across town by my faceless monster of a companion.&lt;br /&gt;“Étoile?” Brother’s gruff voice brought me out of my slight reverie. “Are you alright?”&lt;br /&gt;I shook my thoughts away. I’d had a bad feeling since I’d left the store earlier that night, and apparently Brother was picking up on that.&lt;br /&gt;“I guess so,” I told him. “I don’t really know. I think I’m just tired.”&lt;br /&gt;Large clawed hands wrapped around my ankles to keep me from falling off his shoulders, as I pulled some more Stars out of the large, cool glass sphere and deposited them into the almost invisible the Star-lamps.&lt;br /&gt;“Well, don’t fall asleep yet. We’re almost done.”&lt;br /&gt;Sighing, I closed the pitcher again. “Alright, alright.”&lt;br /&gt;I heard laughter behind us as the children came out to jump around at Brother’s feet, and try and get us to play a game with them. Brother cackled at them, leaning over to walk on all four feet and snapping at the children.&lt;br /&gt;“You guys came along at just the right time, I was getting hungry,” he growled.&lt;br /&gt;I rolled my eyes and hopped off his back. Brother loved being outrageous at any chance he could grab. It was one of the things that made my job a little bit more tolerable.&lt;br /&gt;“Come here, munchkin,” he said gnashing his teeth at the children who were squealing with delight.&lt;br /&gt;“Brother, you lazy bum. We can’t stop for dinner.” I called when I had walked ahead a bit.&lt;br /&gt;He raised his head from where he was getting pets and rubs from the group of children that had flocked out to greet us before bounding to catch up with me.&lt;br /&gt;“Party pooper,” he teased when all the kids groaned in disappointment, grinning like a fool.&lt;br /&gt;“Oh, hush,” I chided. “You hate kids.”&lt;br /&gt;“You’re absolutely right,” he guffawed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We only had a handful of Star-lamps left to visit, and since we’d seen the kids the banter between Brother and I had been rather playful and light-hearted.&lt;br /&gt;Well, that is, until: "Étoile, there’s someone following us.”&lt;br /&gt;I was sorely tempted to spout something terribly foul, but Brother stopped me before I could say a word. “They’ll know that we know they’re following us if you say anything like that, girl.”&lt;br /&gt;“We’ve never had a problem with that. So, why now?”&lt;br /&gt;Brother stood on his hind legs so I could put Stars into the next lamp.&lt;br /&gt;“How should I know why. That’s not my job. I’m simply here to help you out.”&lt;br /&gt;I growled at him angrily, then pulled on his ear.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6707644074471168566-6290626144696162030?l=muttyminded.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muttyminded.blogspot.com/feeds/6290626144696162030/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6707644074471168566&amp;postID=6290626144696162030' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6707644074471168566/posts/default/6290626144696162030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6707644074471168566/posts/default/6290626144696162030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muttyminded.blogspot.com/2008/02/tskm.html' title='TSkM'/><author><name>Sid</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07583262000126272533</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707644074471168566.post-5306573705736556134</id><published>2008-02-27T12:14:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-27T12:14:58.585-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Star-keeper Manifesto</title><content type='html'>The first time I saw my mother pull on that mask, was the only time I can say I feared for my life. I had no idea what that mask meant. Well, at least I didn't then.&lt;br /&gt;I'd come down the hall to say goodnight, and had opened my mother's door to quite a scene.&lt;br /&gt;She'd been sitting peacefully on the edge of her bed, arguing with another masked creature that scared the living daylights out of me. It spoke out of its neck, where a frightening mouth full of razor sharp teeth opened.&lt;br /&gt;"Well, well. Seems like we have a little spy," it rumbled. "Come to steal away the stars and gobble them up have you?"&lt;br /&gt;I hadn't been looking at the monster, but when I did, it was looking straight back at me.&lt;br /&gt;My mother gasped, and immediately got up to approach me.&lt;br /&gt;"Étoile, what are you doing? You should be in bed!"&lt;br /&gt;She had sounded upset, like any mother would have been; but behind that was a fear that I'd never heard from her before.&lt;br /&gt;"Mama, what's going on?" I remember asking her.&lt;br /&gt;She sighed when there was a comment from the creature behind her, in a language I didn't understand then.&lt;br /&gt;"Go to bed, dear," she almost ordered. "I'll tell you in the morning.”&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I wondered if my Mom had just been waiting to pass the Manifesto onto me; because the moment she handed me that mask, that lifelong duty, she was getting flighty. She would leave the house, go out of town for any reason she could find (and she would always look for a reason I couldn’t go with her).&lt;br /&gt;Then the day I turned eighteen... she had her car packed up and ready to go, trying to find the first flight to anywhere.&lt;br /&gt;At first I thought it had been a, you know, a mommy-and-me road trip but when I walked out to get in the car.&lt;br /&gt;“You can’t leave, honey,” she said softly.&lt;br /&gt;I was puzzled then started laughing. “What are you talking about, Mom?”&lt;br /&gt;“You. Can’t. Leave.” She said again. “The contract won’t let you.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she got in her car, and simply drove away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can’t tell you just how many weeks I spent after that, trying to get away from the town, even if it was just an inch outside that city line. It never worked though. Something would always happen; something would always get in the way. Car crashes, highway construction― things that all seemed pretty natural. Then. Oh then, weird things started happening. I would start to feel nauseous the closer I got to the city line. I would black out as soon as I stepped on or over the line.&lt;br /&gt;The weirdest one was my final attempt to step over that confining boundary. I’d gotten out of my car a few hundred feet away from my invisible fence, and had simply started walking towards it.&lt;br /&gt;That was how I met Brother.&lt;br /&gt;He’d come out of the tree line on the side of the road, laughing out of that gaping hole in his neck that was his mouth. He turned toward me, that mask hiding his face, much like the one I’d inherited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scared out of my mind, I’d frozen, trying to ignore that little click of recognition in the back of my mind.&lt;br /&gt;“You’re mother tried the exact same thing when she became the Star-keeper,” he roared in laughter, as if it were the funniest thing in the world.&lt;br /&gt;And to him it probably was.&lt;br /&gt;“You can’t leave, Étoile. It violates the Contract and as your Brother, I can’t let you walk across that line. I’ve been taking it easy on you lately. But if you try this again I will kill you.”&lt;br /&gt;And that silly grin had been plastered across his throat the whole time he had said that.&lt;br /&gt;I was starting to wonder why no one had stopped or there hadn’t been any accidents yet because of Brother being out in the open.&lt;br /&gt;“I have a mask, Étoile. No one else can see me. All they are seeing is you standing out here. All by yourself.”&lt;br /&gt;Then, I’d been outraged. Someone could have come over and gotten this monster away from me, and I could have walked right on over that line without any trouble― because apparently he’d been the one causing all of those things to happen to me.&lt;br /&gt;My anger had fueled me to keep walking forward, regardless of the consequences at this point in time.&lt;br /&gt;“This is your last warning, girl,” he growled, grin dropping.&lt;br /&gt;“THIS IS YOUR FAULT!” I had shouted at him.&lt;br /&gt;“Perhaps it is,” he said very curtly, getting to his feet and out of the grass. “It’s not that horrible, Étoile. I’ve been stuck in this forsaken town since the Stars fell. At least at some point you can leave.”&lt;br /&gt;That’s when I’d realized I’d stopped, slightly mollified by his words. He was right. I knew he was. I just had to find a way to cope with the Contract until I could pass it on to someone else.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The store was extremely busy today. The door was opening and closing almost non stop, and the bell I had put in the door frame was driving me INSANE. I had no idea why everyone suddenly wanted flowers today. Had something happened?&lt;br /&gt;The only other time the store was this busy was on Prom week, though you don’t hear me complaining. More flowers gone, meant more flowers in, which meant more money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nearer to the end of the day, the bell in the door frame had been so generously taken down by one of the taller men that had come in (because Lord knows I couldn’t reach that high). So I hadn’t heard my latest customer come in.&lt;br /&gt;I was pulling some flowers from the large, glass door-ed refrigerator, when he came in and couldn’t hear him clear his throat over the hum of electricity running through the giant machine.&lt;br /&gt;“EXCUSE ME,” was what surprised me out of the flower arranging task I had set myself to.&lt;br /&gt;“Oh I’m sorry,” I said, trying to calm my now racing heart. “How may I help you?”&lt;br /&gt;“I need a small bouquet of daffodils.”&lt;br /&gt;I rushed over behind the counter, to find my order pad and tried not to rip the pen that had gotten tangled in my hair. &lt;br /&gt;“Alright, may I have I have your name, sir?” I asked, actually getting a look at him this time.&lt;br /&gt;The angles in his face were strange, almost harsh, and his eyes were a pale gold. Shaggy brown-black hair hung slightly past his shoulders, and he was almost scary tall. “Coyote.”&lt;br /&gt;“Were your parents hippies?” I asked before I had time to stop myself.&lt;br /&gt;“The originals,” he grinned, almost as if he were used to it.&lt;br /&gt;I was trying to get over the embarrassment of actually having blurted that out. “Oh.”&lt;br /&gt;“Don’t worry. I get that all the time.”&lt;br /&gt;“And your last name, sir?” I asked, trying to get back to business mode.&lt;br /&gt;He raised an eyebrow at me. “What if I don’t have one?”&lt;br /&gt;I tried not to go ballistic at that, hoping that years of anger management would help. “You don’t have a last name?”&lt;br /&gt;“Never have. Don’t plan to change that now.”&lt;br /&gt;“That’s hard to believe, sir,” I said, hoping it wasn’t to painfully obvious that I was gritting my teeth for all they were worth.&lt;br /&gt;“How much are the flowers, Miss?” he asked, a smugly amused look on his face, almost as if he knew how much this was getting under my skin.&lt;br /&gt;“For a bouquet of how many, sir?” I asked.&lt;br /&gt;“Why are you angry with me?”&lt;br /&gt;“I’m not angry. How many flowers would you like sir?”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6707644074471168566-5306573705736556134?l=muttyminded.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muttyminded.blogspot.com/feeds/5306573705736556134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6707644074471168566&amp;postID=5306573705736556134' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6707644074471168566/posts/default/5306573705736556134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6707644074471168566/posts/default/5306573705736556134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muttyminded.blogspot.com/2008/02/star-keeper-manifesto_27.html' title='The Star-keeper Manifesto'/><author><name>Sid</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07583262000126272533</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707644074471168566.post-5581312294981137306</id><published>2008-02-18T17:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-18T17:57:06.801-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes I think I'd like to watch it burn</title><content type='html'>I feel like I haven't updated in a while, but you know what, that's okay, I'm trying to keep up with shit like this, and it's really hard to do when you're in charge of a stupid fund-raiser for an organization that you're completely dedicated to.&lt;br /&gt;I don't really think that there is a lot to say.&lt;br /&gt;OH!&lt;br /&gt;We've started a new project in Creative Writing. It's a children's Literature Project. I'm &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;REALLY&lt;/span&gt; excited about it.&lt;br /&gt;I hope to post some pages up here as I get them done, but that might require a scanner ((which I don't have, persistent asking aside.))&lt;br /&gt;I think that's really all for now.&lt;br /&gt;Ciao!&lt;br /&gt;Tobye&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6707644074471168566-5581312294981137306?l=muttyminded.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muttyminded.blogspot.com/feeds/5581312294981137306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6707644074471168566&amp;postID=5581312294981137306' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6707644074471168566/posts/default/5581312294981137306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6707644074471168566/posts/default/5581312294981137306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muttyminded.blogspot.com/2008/02/sometimes-i-think-id-like-to-watch-it.html' title='Sometimes I think I&apos;d like to watch it burn'/><author><name>Sid</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07583262000126272533</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707644074471168566.post-4341047891498856182</id><published>2008-01-17T11:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-17T11:57:15.415-08:00</updated><title type='text'>King Henry VIII had Six Wives</title><content type='html'>KING HENRY VIII HAD SIX WIVES…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day was really no different from any other I’d had. I was busy scribbling stars onto my already finished homework, not even really looking at what I was actually doing.&lt;br /&gt;“Tobye?” &lt;br /&gt;I looked up at my name and into the bright red eyes of my friend Nett, who was giving me an amused look.&lt;br /&gt;“Can I help you?” I asked and tried not to sound too angry.&lt;br /&gt;“No, but it might be good if you paid attention,” he mentioned before turning away.&lt;br /&gt;“Now why would I do that?”&lt;br /&gt;“Because that Wolf of a teacher we have is―”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AHEM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so that wasn’t really how it started. That’s just how I’d wished it had started. If any of my days were actually like that it would be a down right miracle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Walker’s Cove, no day went that smoothly. There were too many kids who just weren’t quite human anymore. So instead of the lucky 7h 00 in the morning, I was stuck getting up three hours earlier then that because the Wolves in our town don’t know how to SHUT UP.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So instead I wound up making breakfast for Dad, Seven, Sallie, Mollie, Jasz, and Blyue (plus whichever brats happened to have slept in my house). And that usually consisted of whatever I could make out of what we had in the sadly empty pantry.&lt;br /&gt;“Morning,” was my greeting from my one and only older brother, Seven, as he walked down the stairs on the other side of the kitchen.&lt;br /&gt;“Right,” I nearly growled in reply.&lt;br /&gt;“The Wolves keep you up?” he asked as he flicked the button that made the coffee machine groan to life.&lt;br /&gt;“Now, that ez a bloody stupid question, Seven,” I barked, my slight accent noticeable amongst my annoyance.&lt;br /&gt;“Don’t get huffy.”&lt;br /&gt;Seven hopped onto the counter next to where I was mixing pancake batter and ruffled my hair. “Can I help?”&lt;br /&gt;I laughed at him, though it came out sounding more like a rough bark than anything else. “Of course you can’t. The last time you tried to help me make breakfast, Seven, you nearly burned down the house.”&lt;br /&gt;He grimaced at me and shrugged. “Hey, it was nice of me to offer.”&lt;br /&gt;“Oh, please. You just said it so you could get pancakes faster.”&lt;br /&gt;He stuck his tongue out at me and then that was the end of that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Break One&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Listening to my sisters fight about who got to take the nice car to school (which, of course, we all know is the important thing in life) was the highlight of my morning. Me? I was happy to take Dad’s beat up old Jeep.&lt;br /&gt;Which was where my day took a turn for the wrong.&lt;br /&gt;Nett met me out front, fidgeting just a little bit as I strolled up to him.&lt;br /&gt;“You alright?” was the first thing out of my mouth when I saw the much taller teen trembling like a leaf.&lt;br /&gt;“Ha. No. I’m way too weirded out to even THINK about going in that building.”&lt;br /&gt;I put a hand on his arm. Nett never acted like this. He was much too calm for this kind of hysteria. And the fact that his French was trembling wasn’t helping. He was ready to break down and blurt everything out in English, which was something he’d never done in the twelve long years I’d known him. &lt;br /&gt;“What’s wrong, Nett?” I asked, slipping right into my first language.&lt;br /&gt;You see, Nett refused to speak English, which meant, it was only me and the French teacher who ever understood what he was saying. However, that also meant that I acted as translator for everything he said to the teachers. He just didn’t bother talking to other students.&lt;br /&gt;“Nett…” I pressed, trying to get the answer he was trying not to give me.&lt;br /&gt;“Ajax is back.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Break Two&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ajax. AJAX. AJAX. Bloody Demon Spawn of Satan Ajax.&lt;br /&gt;Okay well, maybe not spawn of Satan but Demon nonetheless. He’d been gone for a few years now, doing Goddess knows what on the other side of the Faerie Hills outside of town.&lt;br /&gt;I hated Ajax. And he hated me. I was okay with that though. It meant it gave Seven, my gay-wad of a brother, a reason not to still be in love with that stupid, pompous, evil son of a ―&lt;br /&gt;You get the idea.&lt;br /&gt;As of now I had thought about skipping school, breaking my lovely record, if it meant not having to deal with Ajax. However, that meant leaving Nett and everyone of my sisters there with him.&lt;br /&gt;My sisters wouldn’t have a problem with that. They liked Ajax. And I was the only one he had a problem with, of ALL the Carliyle girls. I wanted to scream and shout at my stupid sisters that he was a Demon and he was a jerk, but Seven wasn’t going to have any of that. Nope. (I remember distinctly, “Tobye, what is wrong with you? Just because Ajax is a Demon doesn’t mean he isn’t sweet.” I also remember distinctly laughing in his face, but that’s beside the point.)&lt;br /&gt;The point was Ajax was bad news, whether my family knew it or not.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A faceless teacher walked right up to me then and bellowed, “Shouldn’t you be in class?”&lt;br /&gt;“Absolutely, sir,” I said and smiled sweetly as I could before decided that it would probably be best for my immediate health if I did just that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Break Four&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I don’t know what you’ve got against him,” was what our teacher said, “but you guys can put it aside. At least for this class, because I’m out of seats and you two are going to HAVE to sit next to each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course he said that AFTER Ajax had practically thrown me to the floor, face contorted with something uglier than human rage. His lips were pulled back from sharp teeth and the gold of his eyes seemed to circle into a pinpoint of black.&lt;br /&gt;I looked away because if I knew that if I didn’t something bad would happen.&lt;br /&gt;“What’s the matter, Tobye? Did I scare you?” he hissed, even as the teacher tried to get him to sit back down.&lt;br /&gt;“Jerk,” I muttered and moved to get up.&lt;br /&gt;I didn’t need to look to know that Ajax was glaring daggers at me, and I could distinctly hear him cursing me under his breath. He wouldn’t do anything serious. I knew that. If he did it would ruin all chances for him to get back into Seven’s good graces.&lt;br /&gt;“You can’t be his favorite forever, Tobye,” he said, his thin voice grating against my nerves.&lt;br /&gt;It was going to be a really long day. I could already tell.&lt;br /&gt;I gave him one long glare before turning to the board and tuning back into the teacher.&lt;br /&gt;“…King Henry VIII was one of England’s kings during the Renaissance…” he droned on and I tuned right back out. I knew how this went.&lt;br /&gt;KING HENRY THE EIGHT,&lt;br /&gt;TO SIX WIVES WAS WEDDED;&lt;br /&gt;ONE DIED;&lt;br /&gt;ONE SURVIVED;&lt;br /&gt;TWO DIVORCED;&lt;br /&gt;TWO BEHEADED.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6707644074471168566-4341047891498856182?l=muttyminded.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muttyminded.blogspot.com/feeds/4341047891498856182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6707644074471168566&amp;postID=4341047891498856182' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6707644074471168566/posts/default/4341047891498856182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6707644074471168566/posts/default/4341047891498856182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muttyminded.blogspot.com/2008/01/king-henry-viii-had-six-wives.html' title='King Henry VIII had Six Wives'/><author><name>Sid</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07583262000126272533</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707644074471168566.post-6592089157690392971</id><published>2007-12-19T16:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-19T16:30:06.742-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Such a loveable lamb</title><content type='html'>Tomorrow is the final day of finals and I can't wait to be done with them. Then Christmas break is on baby.&lt;br /&gt;I'm so excited I want a new camera for Christmas so bad. I dunno what I'm gonna do for eighteen fucking days though.&lt;br /&gt;AND I FINALLY GOT MY NEW PHONE YAY OMG IT'S SO RAD. &lt;b&gt;ITS ORANGE&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so glad Daddy got it for me {{I'm a spoiled brat I know, shut up}}&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm so happy right now it's not even funny. I'm working on a story that is just going and going right now. I'm on page 25 and that's the most I've writtten on a signle story in a realy long time. And I think I know why too. Usually I start planning out stories in my head so when I write it it's not really that exciting. So now that I'm not doing that, I'm really happy to write this. :D&lt;br /&gt;I think that's all for now.&lt;br /&gt;I might start putting up little mindlings. And art. I dunno yet.&lt;br /&gt;I think thats all for now. For real this time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tobye toes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6707644074471168566-6592089157690392971?l=muttyminded.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muttyminded.blogspot.com/feeds/6592089157690392971/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6707644074471168566&amp;postID=6592089157690392971' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6707644074471168566/posts/default/6592089157690392971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6707644074471168566/posts/default/6592089157690392971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muttyminded.blogspot.com/2007/12/such-loveable-lamb.html' title='Such a loveable lamb'/><author><name>Sid</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07583262000126272533</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707644074471168566.post-6006369976917646908</id><published>2007-12-13T15:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-13T15:43:12.420-08:00</updated><title type='text'>As silly thoughts go through my head...</title><content type='html'>I'm like super uber busy tonight but I still decided that I was gonna post.&lt;br /&gt;I've got some bogus Company Christmas party to go to. And I've already told two guys from school and my little brother that if they laughed at me, I would totally wipe the floor with there asses while wearing my 3 inch high-heels and black tights. I would totally do it. Ollie was laughing at me because I had to wear those. UGH. But I can't exactly wear sweats and a shirt, you know.&lt;br /&gt;It's official, putting up with my brother and my dad is damn near impossible. But thats okay. I'm daddy's little girl , and little brothers worst nightmare, so I can do anything I damn well please.&lt;br /&gt;I think that's kind of it for now......&lt;br /&gt;I  updated my dA a bit, but other than that nothing new&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ciao&lt;br /&gt;Tobye&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6707644074471168566-6006369976917646908?l=muttyminded.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muttyminded.blogspot.com/feeds/6006369976917646908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6707644074471168566&amp;postID=6006369976917646908' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6707644074471168566/posts/default/6006369976917646908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6707644074471168566/posts/default/6006369976917646908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muttyminded.blogspot.com/2007/12/as-silly-thoughts-go-through-my-head.html' title='As silly thoughts go through my head...'/><author><name>Sid</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07583262000126272533</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6707644074471168566.post-2178689780986464976</id><published>2007-12-09T14:00:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-09T14:02:38.504-08:00</updated><title type='text'>OH NO SID-MONSTERS BACK</title><content type='html'>I'm going to promise myself that I will keep up with this one. At least twice a week. &lt;br /&gt;We're gonna see how long this'll last. ((Long enough I hope))&lt;br /&gt;There's not much to say really, I'm tired I don't feel the greatest and my brat sister just left and left my room in a mess. :P&lt;br /&gt;PUU&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ANYWAY Yeah, that's all for now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tobye :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6707644074471168566-2178689780986464976?l=muttyminded.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://muttyminded.blogspot.com/feeds/2178689780986464976/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6707644074471168566&amp;postID=2178689780986464976' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6707644074471168566/posts/default/2178689780986464976'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6707644074471168566/posts/default/2178689780986464976'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://muttyminded.blogspot.com/2007/12/oh-no-sid-monsters-back.html' title='OH NO SID-MONSTERS BACK'/><author><name>Sid</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07583262000126272533</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
