Mellow Yellow Episode 6: Filler

John, Lena, and Ara are in the living room

John: Let’s go to the beach!

Lena: NO.

John: Why ever not?

Lena: (Slaps him across the face) NO. I want to know what happens next to Tick, Tock, Zhan, and Quinn. Weren’t you just captivated by that drama?

John: But I want to go to the beach!

Lena: (second blow) NO. This episode is just a time waster!

Ara: (on her phone) Same. I want to know what happens next in ESCAPE, but the author is not adding anything! I’m trying to text Chloe for information, but she’s not telling me! She says I’ve betrayed her and I’m dead and to never speak to her again.

Lena: (Suddenly interested) How about Jay?

Ara: Oh, Jay is human all of a sudden and now the two have a child. Honestly, I don’t ship it.

Lena: IS THIS FILLER EPISODE THAT LONG!? WE ARE JUST WASTING TIME! END THIS THING RIGHT NOW!

John: I still want to go to the beach…

Lena: Fine. At least I will have something to slap there.

 

~~~END

 

Lena: What? It ends right now! Come on!

 

~~~~~~~ENNDNDHDHDHHEHDHHD (Nothing happened. It’s a filler)

Random Ramblings

I’ve had a bunch of ideas for blog posts, but they’d be way too short to keep you nonexistent readers satisfied for the day, so I’m just going to shove them all together to make one decent-sized, hopefully-entertaining post. Yay addition and math! Forgive me if the thoughts are a bit disconnected.

 

Dental update–After fixing my eleven cavities, I’ve started taking care of my teeth. This includes flossing, which I rarely never did before. But I have a perfectly logical reason for denying my teeth optimal health. I didn’t like stuffing my fingers in my mouth. It’s annoying. So to remedy this issue, I got floss on a stick! With the wonderful floss on a stick, I don’t have to stick my fingers in my mouth anymore, so I now floss regularly.

 

Speaking of things on sticks, I want to discuss lollipops. A lollipop is just hard candy on a stick and I strongly dislike them.

A guide to hard candy:

Caramel=good

Jolly Rancher=bad (but I will eat them anyway)

I have two reasons for disliking lollipops:

a) They taste bad

b) The stick that lollipops come on is made of paper, which is water-soluble, which makes it an absolutely idiotic substance to use for the stick on which a food product goes because you put this stick in your mouth and your mouth contains saliva, which is mostly water, and as the stick is water-soluble, it dissolves in your mouth. This is contradictory to what is supposed to happen. You’re not supposed to eat the paper (as paper is not usually a food product), you’re supposed to consume the spherical hard candy on top of the water-soluble paper stick.

 

It’s an outrage, I know, I know, completely atrocious, but I’ve decided that I like apple cider as much as I do cranberry juice.

 

The one thing that I really, really want is a bronze spool of thread. It is my current ambition in life.

 

There are these bushes outside my house with these little red berries and whenever I walk past them, clouds of flies explode out of them for unknown reasons.

 

A random fact about Spinette and me:

  • Spinette cannot stand the songs Honey I’m Good by Andy Grammar and Welcome to the Black Parade by My Chemical Romance
  • I cannot stand That’s What I Like by ze unmentionable artist

 

From what direction do you peal a banana?

I peal a banana from the top.

 

I think it’s egotistic of people to say that aliens don’t exist.

 

Well, that was interesting. Maybe I’ll elaborate further on one of these topics in the future. Who knows? *Shrugs*

The Art of Writing Body Language

Body language is very important in books as it makes characters more realistic. If there were no body language, everyone would communicate like crates of semi-rotted apples and be as boring as scarecrows nailed to fence posts.

Many main characters are also extraordinarily amazing at reading body language. They seem to always be discerning loads of information just by looking into one’s eyes. Being mediocre at reading people myself, I think that body language depends more on the eyebrows.

Eyes don’t change all that much anyway. They can look at things, roll, squint, glare, and widen, and that’s about it. In real life, you don’t see a lot of “melting” or “hardening” or “growing cold”. Eyebrows, on the other hand, have a large selection of shapes that they can take, and they all mean something different. They can be furrowed, raised, cocked, scrunched, drooped, lowered, arched, straight, bushy, thin, absent, etc.

Despite being much more useful, I never see eyebrows mentioned in books when referring to body language. Nope, the eyebrows are just overshadowed by the eyes. But I suppose there’s a reason for this. Which of these sentences sounds better to you?

  • She looked into his large, depthless eyes, onyx, like the shadows of the velvet darkness encompassing the stars, and saw the deep sadness and weariness behind them.
  • She looked at his thick, bushy eyebrows that seemed like caterpillars had taken refuge in his forehead and saw the deep sadness and weariness behind them.

Peanut Butter: Some Random Thoughts

Peanut butter is an acquired taste. One does not simply adore peanut butter upon their first tasting. In fact, I absolutely abhorred peanut butter for the longest time.

But now, I love peanut butter. Sometimes I’ll eat spoonfuls of peanut butter just because I can.

I used to detest peanut butter. I would definitely not eat PB&J, would not think about peanut butter, would not eat peanut butter, would not touch anything that had previously touched peanut butter, and I would cringe at the sight of peanut butter at the store.

I used to claim a peanut allergy so I wouldn’t have to explain why I couldn’t eat a PB&J. No one questioned it (even though I loved Snickers bars and the like).

Then, in fourth grade, we had a field trip to a museum and the school would provide the lunches. They would be serving PB&J. My friend, let’s call her Catherine, has Celiac Disease, and she actually cannot eat PB&J, but that is due to the bread, not the peanut butter. So, because of this, she was allowed to bring her own lunch, but I wasn’t because my peanut allergy was made up.

So on the field trip, I ate only the crusts of the bread, because the peanut butter made me gag. I realized then that my aversion to peanut butter was a real problem. What would happen if there was nothing to eat but peanut butter, jelly, and bread?

When we got home, I lied to my mom (I know, how evil) and I told her that I ate the sandwich and that I loved it and I wanted to eat more PB&J.

The Dark Days began. Due to my supposed “love of peanut butter” we had PB&J ALL THE TIME. Sometimes, my mother would make my brother pasta or noodles and she would make PB&J for me since I “liked it better”. It was hard, and it was painful, but I ate lots of peanut butter and I acquired the taste.

After I had acquired the taste (through a great deal of hard work), PB&J actually became my favorite food and I ate it even more, which was probably not the most nutritious.

The moral of the story is that you can do anything you put your mind to, even learn to love something as disgusting as peanut butter.

A Not So Scary Short Story (I was busy eating candy)

Michael pulls on his tie.

Rewind.

His hands, however, are stiff in his pockets.

Rewind.

A chair loudly drags along the floor.

Rewind.

A book is flipped open.

Then it closes, the chair slides into place, and Michael walks out the door, whistling a hollow tune. The picture on the TV screen ripples, the pixels uncoordinated, a mess of color, until it gives a little “beep” then fades away. It is black.

I stir my tea, putting in my fifth scoop of sugar. The liquid bubbles, unsatisfied with the calories I have been ingesting over this murder case. I take another look at the video again, clicking the red “rewind” button on the front of the remote. The screen blinks to life, the now deceased Michael’s room displayed on the monitor.

Thirsty for more evidence, I scoured the screen for more, hungry for answers I could write down in my notebook. I heard the rapid-fire clicking of a pen, click, click, click, click, click. But I don’t see it on the TV screen.

The lights turn off. The constant clicking gets louder.

Beep! The video screen fades away.

My pen is gone.

Rewind.

The button isn’t working this time around.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hypothetical Situations

Hypothetical situations—we have all thought of what to do in them. Mostly, I think of what to do in “problems” that will never ever happen, such as finding the land of the unicorns, winning a Nobel Peace prize, or making a master plan to get myself out of prison (the last one is probable). Usually, I discuss these nonexistent moments while in the shower or when I’m in front of a mirror of some sort. For some reason, the mirror, while it makes most people feel self-conscious, makes me feel sane. I have named the mirror various names, Bob, Joe, Fred, Sally but then I realized that most of the names I call the clear reflective surface are for human beings and that seems out of place, so I simply call the mirror “you”. You always hear what I have to say about hypothetical situations and never gets tired of it. I’d say you is a great friend to have, but he/she/it never talks to me… which is kind of a downside, but who cares, right? You is just really shy, is all.

That’s why I’m revealing some of my hypothetical situations to you. I mean, to nonexistent readers, to you nonexistent readers. But you cannot read this so… you can read this, well… nonexistent readers can read this? This is too confusing!

From now on, “you” will be used to indicate nonexistent readers and “YOU” will be used to define BobJoeFredSally.

Let’s try this again. That’s why I’m revealing some of my hypothetical situations to you. Hopefully, you can talk, correct? It’s also for trying to make my habit of talking to myself go away, but that’s not important.

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have a Genie? Well, turn that whole thing upside down—make yourself the Genie. Even with all that power, the Genie is stuck in a teensy weensy little space and is imprisoned for life. He has to stay put in a lamp until someone walks on over and rubs it. Also, who rubs a lamp? Do you ever rub your lamp when you go to bed at night? Most likely not. I do, though, because I want to get a better job rather than be an author/blogger person. It pays so much more! Let me just tell you that. Here is how the conversation went with YOU while brushing my hair two years ago:

Me imitating the Genie: I just retired! Sorry. You are my predecessor now.

Me: What?

Me imitating the Genie: Bye!

Me: So what if that happened? What would I do? Do YOU have a stance on it?

YOU: …

Me: Waah! What is happening to me? *turning into a big blue giant in my imagination*

Me: Let me grant you some wishes! *paces* Was that a good performance?

YOU: …

Me: Not as great as Robin Williams! *some more paces*

YOU: …

Me: Can I actually do magic? *snaps fingers, nothing happens* It looks I’ll have to search for some stupid loopholes everywhere…

YOU: …

Me: Still better than the current position I have in life!

Another hypothetical situation that I often ponder is this, “If I die in a crime scene will the police look through all my personal belongings?” (you can think of the “personal” belongings I keep). If they do, what will they find? From diaries to terrible old drawings, to my secret code key that I use to write some pretty mysterious and embarrassing items, there are so many things that are strictly private! Honestly, I hope they don’t look through my records for my schooling. What if they find out that I cheated my education? That I snubbed a grade? I imagine them scowling then declaring my death of suicide because of all that guilt that I’ve been hiding.

You know what? I’m going to reveal my secret right now:

I was supposed to be held back in kindergarten because I did not know how to tie my shoes. Of course, to avoid this mishap in my education, I moved on to first grade in a different school.

**************BRAINWASHING ASTERISKS**************

I know it didn’t work.

What if that actually worked? I would become a master hypnotist! Does this mean little kids will go into my car for candy now? Whoa! Does that mean I can convince Arachnid that social gatherings are fun? Does that mean I can hypnotize the whole world to love me, to bow to my shins? IS THIS HOW I DOMINATE THE WORLD?

Are you hypnotized?

You never answer.

Come on, you can tell me anything. Just get in my white van filled with candy! You’ll love it, I promise.

Don’t call the cops!

NO!

**************HYPOTHETICAL SITUATION HAS ENDED**************

As you see, that is an example of how the wild beast Spinette acts in the wild when alone.