Monday, February 23, 2015

How to Light Off a String of Illegal Fireworks Without Getting Caught


  1. Buy as much illegal fireworks as you can
  2. Buy some more
  3. Buy a lot more (I know you bought quite a bunch already, but you probably aren't listening to me: you need to buy so much that's it's absurd the amount you have hidden in your garage. And… and, don't forget the most important part - they're all illegal! None of those dumb flowers or cheap aerials). 
  4. Get the picture?
  5. Run on your free time to get super duper fast. 
  6. Distract the local police - this is most easily accomplished by giving them a falsified tip about where to find the biggest, baddest drug lord. If your town doesn't have any, then conjure up a snappy name and pretend the criminal(s) is holding you hostage. Make certain the crime is taking place on the other side of town. The farther the better. 
  7. Connect the fireworks together with tape that isn't immune to fire. 
  8. Lather the tape - preferably duct tape - with buttloads of gasoline. 
  9. Light fuse…
  10. …Run away…
  11. If didn't pay attention to Step 5, get yourself to the hospital pronto; do so after enjoying the show, of course.
  12. Repeat until you've achieved pyromania. 
 

Saturday, February 21, 2015

The Brick of Legend

Allow me to introduce myself. I am a brick. 
What do you think of when you hear that word? That name? Do you imagine someone being pelted to death with that particular object, or do you imagine something being built - like a school or home? Personally, I'd like to imagine something of legend whenever I hear that name. 
I would be delighted to conjure up a tale of a terrific hero that existed long ago; a hero that helped people and had many accolades to his name. A story of Indiana Brick swinging around on his whip whilst vanquishing the forces of evil and discovering rich treasures. 
But, sadly, that is not to be. Perhaps it will never be. Bricks like me have gained a sinister reputation over the course of their life. They can be used for evil - bludgeoning someone to death, thrown through a window, or knocking something else over. They can also be used for good - building structures, supporting a piece of paper that won't stay down, etc. 
The character of a brick can be hard to discern from actions alone, though. Have you ever considered the fact that I may not what to be used for something evil or good; that I might want to be the master of my own destiny? I may be an inanimate object, but that doesn't mean I can't do great things. All you have to do is allow me the chance to try. 
Why won't you?

Skull Excerpt #2

I got such positive feedback on the last excerpt I posted that I decided another sample of my story wouldn't be such a bad thing. For this one, though, I wanted to take a different angle, and return to the origins of the characters that appeared in the last one. 
In this particular scene, Cody Armstrong is introduced to his newly assigned squadron: Delta Squad. I thought this would be a good scene to post, since the introduction takes place in Hangar 11 - which is what I named my blog after. 
Again, any feedback on your part is extremely appreciated. 

It was extremely cold in the hangar, and Cody shivered upon entering. The only sunlight fluttering in was coming from small windows near the roof – mere slivers compared to everything else in here.
            There were several more fighter jets and land vehicles within the dimly lit bay, most of its area dedicated to weapon storage. At least, Cody assumed it was weapons – for he saw nothing but stacks upon stacks of crates.
             Off in one corner, there was a half pyramid of crates against a wall. Three men stood near the military-grade boxes, talking casually. All three of them wore full ultra soldier armor, though only one had his helmet on.
            One of the men was twirling a twelve-inch combat knife in his hand. He wielded the weapon as if it were a harmless utensil. The sleek metal of the blade gleamed whenever one particular spot met the sunlight.
            The second man had his back turned to Cody, though he could tell the soldier was in the process of cleaning a long-barreled rifle, perhaps a sniper. He had long black hair that fell in messy clumps about his shoulders.
            The third soldier – the one with the helmet - leaned against the stack of crates, his arms folded. Cody was unable to make out his mood nor his features from the bleak visor he wore.
            Harvey’s presence stirred the group.
            “Ah, Harvey,” the man cleaning his sniper began, turning in his seat. “Was wondering when you’d show up.”
            The soldier spoke in a heavy accent Cody could only discern as Russian. He had pale eyes and a strong demeanor. Cody assumed that the care he had for his sniper proved that he was a marksman, same as Hayden.
            “Saved one for you, boss,” the soldier with the knife spoke up, tossing a small object to Harvey. He caught it easily, sticking it in his mouth appreciatively. It was a cigar. Cuban, from the length and smell.
            Cody had tried smoking in the past.
            Never again.
            Harvey lit the cigar and took a quick puff of its seemingly splendid smoke. The others didn’t really pay much attention to it, for - unbeknownst to Cody - Harvey was a heavy smoker. Had been all his life. Delta had gotten used to it over the years.
            Harvey removed the cigar from his mouth and gestured to the three soldiers.
            “This is Delta squad,” he stated, pointing to Cody. “And this is Cody. Our new recruit.”
            “And green as grass, by the looks of it,” the marksman said skeptically, coming towards Cody. “Looks more like glorified cannon fodder, if you ask me.”
            Cody stood up straighter, hoping that it would display a sense of power within him. The marksman wasn’t moved. He eyed Cody like he a bear gloating over fresh meat.
            A half smile crept over his face. He leaned in towards Cody, as if to intimidate the recruit. Unfortunately, it seemed to be working.
            “Oh, leave him alone, Cealen,” the knife-wielding soldier scolded his comrade. He shoved the marksman out of the way, allowing him to continue the introductions. Unlike Cealen, he smiled and stuck out his hand. “Name’s Zack. SSC Zachary Smith, if you want to be formal. But, as you probably know, we’re not that polite.”
            Zack, unlike Cealen, was quick with his words. He spoke in short bursts, as if taking a long time speaking was a sin.
            “I’ll let you figure out what the SSC stands for,” Zack continued, fast as a bullet.
            Cody knew that it stood for Sergeant Second Class. No doubt Zack was Harvey’s second-in-command.
            “Zack’s our nerd in the squad,” Cealen explained from behind. He had returned to cleaning his rifle.
            “Am not!” Zack retorted, spinning to face his companion. “At least one of us knows how to hack enemy hardware.”
            Cealen gestured to his gun. “I wouldn’t need to.”
            “Contrary to your belief, Cealen, you can’t just shoot everything in sight,” Zack replied.
            “Says who?” Cealen scoffed. “They pay me to shoot, not do math.”
            “Yeah,” Zack continued. “And unlike the rest of us, you weren’t born, you were government-issued.”
            “To snipe,” Cealen agreed.  
            Cody looked askance at Harvey. He smiled as he sucked back on his cigar. Apparently this kind of argument, however playful, was a common sight among Delta. Other sergeants would jump all over their subordinates for behavior like this.
            Perhaps it gave Delta a chance to ease tension.
            Zack shook his head. “You’re hopeless,” he turned back to Cody. “Anyway, he’s right. I’m the only one with real smarts in this squad. But,” he held up a finger, “that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to handle a gun.”
            “Oh, you know how to handle a gun, Zack. Most definitely,” Cealen agreed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You just don’t know how to make one dance.”
            “And that’s Cealen,” Zack introduced his comrade. “Our gifted marksman.”
            “That’s PFC Cealen Parker to you, greenie,” Cealen corrected, slapping a large ammunition clip into his sniper. Finished with repairs, he set the gun to the side. “And I’m the best damn sniper the galaxy has to offer. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”
            Hayden could give you a run for your money, Cody thought. Something told him saying that out loud was the worst decision he could make.
            “You guys certainly don’t lack for confidence,” he said aloud.
            “We like to keep our self esteem up. Let’s us be ecstatic under gunfire,” Zack joked, shrugging. Cody smiled as he pictured Delta on a boisterous battlefield, their faces bright with quirky smirks. That could explain why they were the best of the best.  
            Cody glanced past Cealen and Zack to the mysterious soldier leaning against the crates. He still hadn’t moved from his initial position, and Cody realized that his head was tilted in his direction.
            Zack followed Cody’s gaze.
            “Ah, and that is our final member: Corporal Ethan Hunter,” he explained. “But, you can call him by the name every other squad has for him: The Walking Tank.”
            Ethan pushed off the crate and strode over to Cody. At first, Cody didn’t see any reason to call him by that name, until the soldier was standing in front of him – or, rather, above him.
            The giant of a man must’ve been at least eight feet tall. Cody had to crane his neck to look into the bleak visor he wore. His huge set of armor clanked together with each step that he took. Combined, it had to have weighed a thousand pounds; Ethan wore the outfit like it was nothing.
            Silently, Cody gulped.
            This man could eat someone his size for breakfast. And that wasn’t hyperbole.
            “I think he likes you,” Cealen muttered deviously, like he was the owner of a huge, vicious bulldog that had started licking a guest.
            Ethan proffered one of his meaty hands to Cody. It was at least twice the size of any regular hand, and it was covered by a thick, bendable skin of armor.
            Hesitantly, Cody took the hand in his and squeezed.
            Accepting the challenge, Ethan squeezed back. Cody felt his knuckles grind together, felt the blood rush away from his fingertips. Ethan held on for about thirty seconds, then let go.
            Cody sighed in relief, shook his hand up and down to regain the retracted blood. If a simple squeeze could do that much damage, there was no telling the amount of havoc this beast of a man could perform.
            Ethan stepped back, folding his arms. Although the visor hid his face, Cody knew the Walking Tank was smirking. That handshake had probably forced Cody to make a hysterical face.
            “Don’t let his looks deceive you,” Zack said, patting Ethan on the back. He had to reach upwards to do so. “He’s quite the gentle giant, if you catch my meaning.”
            “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Ethan,” Cody flexed his hand several times, satisfied with the repair work he had performed.
            For a moment, the group sat in silence, waiting for Ethan to say something back. But, he remained silent. It rattled Cody.
            “Do you speak?” Cody asked, cocking an eyebrow.
            “He doesn’t,” Zack explained, matter-of-factly.
            Cody said, “Why not?”
            “He doesn’t say,” Cealen replied.
            Ethan nodded slowly in agreement. Cody was amazed at the level of familiarity within this squad. They treated one another in an odd way, as if they were all of the same consciousness. A setting like this in the military was extremely atypical. Cody couldn’t exactly place his finger on the feeling.
            Casual. That was it. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say he just walked into a fraternity. He wondered how the leaders of the military treated this squad – they probably didn’t approve of this kind of behavior.
            Then again, of all the ultra soldiers he’d met, Delta appeared the most efficient. They had earned a sinister reputation, after all.

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

I Love Lamp




"I Love Lamp" Scene from Anchorman



Things to tell if you're in love with someone (or a lamp):


  • You can't stop being around her
  • Holding hands in the hallway seems like a pretty good idea to you
  • All that matters is the person you're with
  • You turn into the biggest love fanatic ever
  • Bella's relationship with Edward is, like, the most realistic thing in the world
  • You freak out if she doesn't text you back after a few seconds
  • You're free every Friday Night
  • Friends take a backseat
  • You think you know the difference between love, lust and like, but you actually don't
  • Your internet search history has "love" written all over it
  • Girly songs are much better than anything Eminem has to offer
  • New action movie in theaters? You don't care, you go see The Notebook in 3D…
  • …And you cry the whole time
  • When she tells you the feeling's not mutual, you go and hoard ice cream, and burn her picture, and, if you're not careful, you turn into a crazy cat-man. Because that happens, guys, seriously. I'm not joking. 
Sometimes, you may fall in love just by looking at something, or someone. After all, they say that love at first sight is a real thing. And I tend to believe that. 
…As so does Brick Tamland, apparently. Because love and all of its characteristics are completely undefinable. We cannot, will not ever know what love really is. We can just take a stab at what it feels like. What we experience.  
Just remember, you're probably not going to find love if you go looking for it like these guys:


 "What is Love?" 
Hilarious SNL skit featuring Jim Carrey, Will Ferrell and Chris Kattan


Color

What would we do without color?
Imagine that… a world deprived of color. A world robbed of diversity and beauty.
It's quite a terrifying thought, no?
For color is maybe the most important thing in our lives
As humans, we associate everything in our lives with color.
We stare at it, we admire it.
We cherish it.
When we feel something; be it a burning sensation when we achieve, a cold, dark feeling when we are alone. Everything is described with color.
When we look at colors, we not only see its features, we see its depth and history.
Red with anger.
Blue with intricate beauty.
Yellow with happiness.
Black with fear.
And green with growth.
To live on a world deprived of characteristics such as these, it would be a life not worth living. We would not be humans without it.
We need color in our lives.
We need it.


"Color" Scene in The Giver





Thursday, February 5, 2015

In Space No One Can Hear You Blog


"David 8" Video from Prometheus. 
Pretty much sums up what it means to be a robot.




"First they created us. Then they tried to kill us. I deserve to know why."
"The answer is irrelevant. Does it matter why they changed their minds?"
"Yes. Yes, it does." 
"I don't understand."
"Well, I guess that's because I'm a human being. And you're a robot."


-Doctor Shaw and David in "Prometheus"


A list of things to determine whether or not you're a robot (like David, or Ash, or Bishop, etc.):

  • You have no empathy for human life
  • You don't breathe
  • You understand human emotion… though you do not feel it yourself
  • You're super smart
  • You try and kill your coworkers
  • You bleed a white, milky substance
  • You're nearly perfect in every way
  • You don't think a giant xenomorph stalking you is scary...
  • …in fact, you actually admire it
  • You follow orders without question
  • You're always collating with Mother
  • People with the surname 'Ripley' tend to hate you
  • You can play the FFF (five finger fillet) game at mach 10 speed
  • You have a compulsive need to prove yourself
  • You like to quote movies and annoy everyone else by repeating them
  • You want your creators dead
  • You really like to mess with dangerous things
  • If a coworker gets a spider alien attached to his face, you say: 'Eh, let's keep it on there.'
  • You apologize, but keep doing bad things
  • You like to shove magazines in peoples' faces. Like, seriously, that one's just weird
  • Despite all these things, you end up being the coolest guy in the movie
  • When a giant alien rips your head off, or a xenomorph queen rips you in half, or you get owned by a coworker and his fire extinguisher, you can still talk and do everything you used to
So, truly, if you want to be human, don't do any of the above things. 
Also, don't behave like this guy:

Or this guy:

And, just for kicks and giggles, this guy:

Because, let's be honest, humans are much cooler. Though, in terms of the Alien franchise, they're kinda expendable. Just saying.
And if you're a robot reading this, then at least try to act like a human being for crying out loud. 
Like this guy:






What Are You Scared Of?

Whilst we're on the topic of human emotion, I thought I'd expound on fear.
Perhaps it is the most powerful of all human emotions. It can happen in any form, in any context. Many people feel fear when their careers are at stake, or when someone is in danger.
I wanted to focus on primal fear. The fear that you get when your own life is in danger. While it may be uncomfortable to experience, it drives you to do better; to survive.
You know the feeling.
A cold tingle in your spine.
Trembles throughout your body.
Cool, unrelenting sweat.
Your mouth gone dry.
All of these and more I felt while playing one of my newest video games: Alien Isolation. If the title didn't already give it away, Alien Isolation is a game based off of the Alien franchise, which is like, my favorite movie series ever.
Maybe that's why I can't stop thinking about xenomorphs and all that jazz.
I know it might seem a bit odd to write a post about a video game, but seriously, you've got to try this one out. It's super intense and freaky, and it inspired me to write this post. Now, I've got a cool game and credit for the assignment. Win, win.
Besides, never before have I been more terrified in my life. Granted, I haven't really been in actual danger before, but this comes super-duper close.
Just indulge me for a second and watch this small video clip.
Be warned, it could be considered inappropriate. I guess it shows violence, but, then again, it's all implied, really. Though, it is based off a rated 'R' movie. If you don't want exposure to that, then don't click play.
In this clip, the person playing tries to distract the towering alien with a flash bang, but it doesn't really work out.


Ah! Always gets me, that guy.
There you have it. Pretty fantastic horror experience, I've got to say. Really changed my idea of true fear. If that didn't at least make you cry, then you're probably a robot. And that's no good.
Anyways, I'm rambling. Go and buy it if you can.
Jeez, looking back this seems like a review of the game. The developers should totally pay me for this.