Tee_Hi
I write voraciously; these days, it's mostly for songs for my band, Urban Gypsies Music Group Chi... My Blog- http://illnspireu.blogspot.com
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Hey there, random proser. I have a question for you which varies based on your genetalia (you'll understand why in a moment; I promise I'm not sexist.) If you are biologically female, describe what a period cramp feels like. Or, if you have given birth, describe the pain. If you are biologically male, describe what it feels like when someone hits etc your family jewels. I understand this will likely make people uncomfortable. But I feel like many people have trouble describing pain and also, as writers, we write about tons of gory topics or *crude* things and thus are used to this kind of stuff (at least I think we are and I know I am.) Thanks for reading this and good luck.
Written by Tee_Hi

Am I In An Alien Movie? Sigourney?

Giving birth? What does it feel like? 

Ok... So...

You know that feeling you have when you're bound up in your bowels and you haven't gone in days and your whole lower half is one big ball of containment and bloating and fullness and just-get-it-out(!)ness and you have a constant desire to push but nothing happens?

Then after several hours of that, maybe imagine that your insides are trying to remake themselves, flipping and turning and turning themselves inside-out and outside-in and back again. And it feels as though your innards are being ripped and torn and mauled and kneaded by a giant gut-kneading monster who thinks your inner pelvis is made of Play-doh, right?

Multiply that by 5. Again. Again. Now by 2. Now by 5 again. Now double it.

That's ALMOST what being in labor feels like.

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Hey there, random proser. I have a question for you which varies based on your genetalia (you'll understand why in a moment; I promise I'm not sexist.) If you are biologically female, describe what a period cramp feels like. Or, if you have given birth, describe the pain. If you are biologically male, describe what it feels like when someone hits etc your family jewels. I understand this will likely make people uncomfortable. But I feel like many people have trouble describing pain and also, as writers, we write about tons of gory topics or *crude* things and thus are used to this kind of stuff (at least I think we are and I know I am.) Thanks for reading this and good luck.
Written by Tee_Hi
Am I In An Alien Movie? Sigourney?
Giving birth? What does it feel like? 

Ok... So...

You know that feeling you have when you're bound up in your bowels and you haven't gone in days and your whole lower half is one big ball of containment and bloating and fullness and just-get-it-out(!)ness and you have a constant desire to push but nothing happens?

Then after several hours of that, maybe imagine that your insides are trying to remake themselves, flipping and turning and turning themselves inside-out and outside-in and back again. And it feels as though your innards are being ripped and torn and mauled and kneaded by a giant gut-kneading monster who thinks your inner pelvis is made of Play-doh, right?

Multiply that by 5. Again. Again. Now by 2. Now by 5 again. Now double it.

That's ALMOST what being in labor feels like.
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Take any fairy tale you loved as a kid (Three Little Pigs, Goldielocks, Cinderella, etc...) and rewrite it in an entirely different genre. Have fun with it.
Written by Tee_Hi

A Word From Hansel and Gretel

"So, there we was in the woods, all by ourselves cuz our bastard-ass parents couldn't be bothered to take care of us." Hansel told the room. "I mean, what the fuck?! Aren't parents supposed to sacrifice for children instead of sacrificing the children?"

"What Hansel is trying to say," continued Gretel, "is that we were faced with the unexpected challenge of being prematurely independent."

Hansel gave his sister a weary look, but let his twin continue. They were in a therapy session, after all, so perhaps her diplomatic way of speaking was better...for the moment.

"We had kind of expected that we would be faced with such a challenge, so I brought along bread crumbs in my pocket, but alas, birds came and ate them, so we had to mature more quickly."

"Bastards!" Hansel erupted and Goldilocks giggled, looking at him slyly under her blonde lashes. He sure did have a potty mouth, but he was way cute, nonetheless. Perhaps after session, they could-

"Right," Gretel nodded, her auburn curls bouncing as she spoke and the freckles upon her crinkly nose making Jack Horner Jack Horny. "But we soldiered on until we came upon this house made of wonderful confections."

"Candy," the gingerbread man intoned, knowingly, and shuddered.

"We was hungry, of course, so we started eatin' off it. I had just started on the most delicious-ass taffy windowsill when some doctor came out of the house. Bastard started talkin' 'bout all this candy ain't good to eat at one time...Ass-hole! Why the fuck did he build the house if we wasn't to eat off it? Dumb-ass fuck!" Hansel's bottom lip curled at the memory and he ran a hand through his shoulder-length auburn hair. His nose was missing Gretel's freckles, but Rose Red still thought he was a most delicious dish to look at. Maybe after group therapy was over-

Gretel nodded and picked up the tale. She was trying very hard to impress the therapist, Peter Pan, with her soft way of speaking, but he seemed to barely be paying attention, as his eyes were on Tinkerbell, but she kept going, nonetheless.

"Well, it turned out that the doctor was actually a nutritionist and he'd built the house as a way of drumming up business. He led us inside with promises of treats that were just as delicious but better for us, nutrition-wise."

"Tofu? Fuckin' TOFU? He called that a treat?!" All heads turned as Hansel threw a chair across the room. Fortunately, Tom Thumb had stormed out earlier, so he wouldn't be missing his seat, which now sat in a broken heap in the corner.

"Hansel, please!" Gretel coughed and eyed Mr. Pan, who had finally looked up. Her brother muttered apologies and Gretel kept going, now that Peter was attentive.

"The tofu was rather bland and left much to be desired, as did the soy milk and kale, but still we gave it a try."

"And?" the big bad wolf said. "Sucked to high heaven, didn't it? I don't know why you wanted the candy so much, either, though. Meat is the way to go." He nodded and went back to eyeballing the match girl.

"You're right, Mr. Wolf; it did suck to, uh, high heaven, as you say."

"So what'd you do?" asked the frog prince. He was enraptured with the fine young storyteller and hoped his attentiveness would draw her away from that chump, Pan.

"What-choo think we did? We kilt the bastard!" Hansel smiled for the first time, as this was his favorite part of the story.

"Yes. We tricked him into climbing into the industrial-sized confection – confection with an ‘f’ - oven and then we lit him afire."

"Fortunately, our friend, Pinocchio, was able to get us off, claimin' self-defense.” Hansel nodded, satisfaction on his face.

“And then we took control of the cottage. Now, we let anyone who comes along eat to their fill. I’ve become quite the baker and am able to replace parts of the house in no time...with Hansel’s carpentry help, of course.”

“And once we’ve got’em fattened up, we sell'em a seasoning Gretel came up with that you sprinkle on your food and it helps you to lose all the weight you put on.”

“It’s called ‘Weight No More’ and is only $19.95 for an 8-ounce bottle.” Gretel smiled her most charmingly.

Session over, Hansel walked off with Goldilocks and Rose Red, the better to try his newfound Bouncy-Bounce mattress with. Gretel was saddened to see Peter still hovering over Tinkerbell, but the frog prince, Navee, whispered in her ear, telling her tales about his long tongue, and Pan was quickly forgotten.

~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~

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Take any fairy tale you loved as a kid (Three Little Pigs, Goldielocks, Cinderella, etc...) and rewrite it in an entirely different genre. Have fun with it.
Written by Tee_Hi
A Word From Hansel and Gretel
"So, there we was in the woods, all by ourselves cuz our bastard-ass parents couldn't be bothered to take care of us." Hansel told the room. "I mean, what the fuck?! Aren't parents supposed to sacrifice for children instead of sacrificing the children?"

"What Hansel is trying to say," continued Gretel, "is that we were faced with the unexpected challenge of being prematurely independent."

Hansel gave his sister a weary look, but let his twin continue. They were in a therapy session, after all, so perhaps her diplomatic way of speaking was better...for the moment.

"We had kind of expected that we would be faced with such a challenge, so I brought along bread crumbs in my pocket, but alas, birds came and ate them, so we had to mature more quickly."

"Bastards!" Hansel erupted and Goldilocks giggled, looking at him slyly under her blonde lashes. He sure did have a potty mouth, but he was way cute, nonetheless. Perhaps after session, they could-

"Right," Gretel nodded, her auburn curls bouncing as she spoke and the freckles upon her crinkly nose making Jack Horner Jack Horny. "But we soldiered on until we came upon this house made of wonderful confections."

"Candy," the gingerbread man intoned, knowingly, and shuddered.

"We was hungry, of course, so we started eatin' off it. I had just started on the most delicious-ass taffy windowsill when some doctor came out of the house. Bastard started talkin' 'bout all this candy ain't good to eat at one time...Ass-hole! Why the fuck did he build the house if we wasn't to eat off it? Dumb-ass fuck!" Hansel's bottom lip curled at the memory and he ran a hand through his shoulder-length auburn hair. His nose was missing Gretel's freckles, but Rose Red still thought he was a most delicious dish to look at. Maybe after group therapy was over-

Gretel nodded and picked up the tale. She was trying very hard to impress the therapist, Peter Pan, with her soft way of speaking, but he seemed to barely be paying attention, as his eyes were on Tinkerbell, but she kept going, nonetheless.

"Well, it turned out that the doctor was actually a nutritionist and he'd built the house as a way of drumming up business. He led us inside with promises of treats that were just as delicious but better for us, nutrition-wise."

"Tofu? Fuckin' TOFU? He called that a treat?!" All heads turned as Hansel threw a chair across the room. Fortunately, Tom Thumb had stormed out earlier, so he wouldn't be missing his seat, which now sat in a broken heap in the corner.

"Hansel, please!" Gretel coughed and eyed Mr. Pan, who had finally looked up. Her brother muttered apologies and Gretel kept going, now that Peter was attentive.

"The tofu was rather bland and left much to be desired, as did the soy milk and kale, but still we gave it a try."

"And?" the big bad wolf said. "Sucked to high heaven, didn't it? I don't know why you wanted the candy so much, either, though. Meat is the way to go." He nodded and went back to eyeballing the match girl.

"You're right, Mr. Wolf; it did suck to, uh, high heaven, as you say."

"So what'd you do?" asked the frog prince. He was enraptured with the fine young storyteller and hoped his attentiveness would draw her away from that chump, Pan.

"What-choo think we did? We kilt the bastard!" Hansel smiled for the first time, as this was his favorite part of the story.

"Yes. We tricked him into climbing into the industrial-sized confection – confection with an ‘f’ - oven and then we lit him afire."

"Fortunately, our friend, Pinocchio, was able to get us off, claimin' self-defense.” Hansel nodded, satisfaction on his face.

“And then we took control of the cottage. Now, we let anyone who comes along eat to their fill. I’ve become quite the baker and am able to replace parts of the house in no time...with Hansel’s carpentry help, of course.”

“And once we’ve got’em fattened up, we sell'em a seasoning Gretel came up with that you sprinkle on your food and it helps you to lose all the weight you put on.”

“It’s called ‘Weight No More’ and is only $19.95 for an 8-ounce bottle.” Gretel smiled her most charmingly.

Session over, Hansel walked off with Goldilocks and Rose Red, the better to try his newfound Bouncy-Bounce mattress with. Gretel was saddened to see Peter still hovering over Tinkerbell, but the frog prince, Navee, whispered in her ear, telling her tales about his long tongue, and Pan was quickly forgotten.


~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~
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Write a love or steamy letter to a fictional character...
Written by Tee_Hi

Angel of My Heart

My Darling Castiel,

You are the finest of all beings, my Love, and I live for the moments we are together. With or without your Grace, I am like putty in your hands.

The way you look at me, the way you touch me, the way you save me from demons seeking to use my vessel as their own.

I dream nightly of your hotness touching me, releasing the pent-up desires, therein. I dream of releasing you from your coat of trench and sharing in the heaven that we make together. When we are alone, there is no one but you and I forget all else. I know you do not eat or drink, but still I long to sup at the table that is you.

Save me, my Love, from the darkness threatening to overwhelm me. I need your light, I need your love, I need your heat. I need you, Cas.

Yours,

T-Girl

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Write a love or steamy letter to a fictional character...
Written by Tee_Hi
Angel of My Heart
My Darling Castiel,

You are the finest of all beings, my Love, and I live for the moments we are together. With or without your Grace, I am like putty in your hands.

The way you look at me, the way you touch me, the way you save me from demons seeking to use my vessel as their own.

I dream nightly of your hotness touching me, releasing the pent-up desires, therein. I dream of releasing you from your coat of trench and sharing in the heaven that we make together. When we are alone, there is no one but you and I forget all else. I know you do not eat or drink, but still I long to sup at the table that is you.

Save me, my Love, from the darkness threatening to overwhelm me. I need your light, I need your love, I need your heat. I need you, Cas.

Yours,
T-Girl
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This challenge is a spiteful tribute to all red pens and their devious, defiling ink. Write a poem or short story about something you hate. But here's the catch: u hav tu spel evry singel werd rong. Hav fuhn :)
Written by Tee_Hi

Mannurz, Anywon?

Ay reely caknot stant peepol whu hav kno mannurz. Ay meen, hough harrd kan itt bei tu sae plees und thanc yoo?

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This challenge is a spiteful tribute to all red pens and their devious, defiling ink. Write a poem or short story about something you hate. But here's the catch: u hav tu spel evry singel werd rong. Hav fuhn :)
Written by Tee_Hi
Mannurz, Anywon?
Ay reely caknot stant peepol whu hav kno mannurz. Ay meen, hough harrd kan itt bei tu sae plees und thanc yoo?
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Confession time: what is one song(s) you're embarrassed to admit that you listen to over and over again.
Written by Tee_Hi in portal Music and Rap

Please Don't Tell

"Party in the USA" by Miley Cyrus. Cuz, Miley.

My children liked her when she was Hannah Montana, but now...

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Confession time: what is one song(s) you're embarrassed to admit that you listen to over and over again.
Written by Tee_Hi in portal Music and Rap
Please Don't Tell
"Party in the USA" by Miley Cyrus. Cuz, Miley.

My children liked her when she was Hannah Montana, but now...


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Is it okay to talk to yourself?
Written by Tee_Hi

Talk to Oneself?

Myself: Did you hear that, Trina? She asked if it's okay to talk to oneself!

Me: You dummy. No, I did not "hear" it. But I did "read" it.

Myself: *sigh* You know bloody well what I meant!

Me:  Calm down, girl, *pfft ...lmao*! Little does she know that we do it, like, ALLLLLL, the time!

Myself: For real. Hell, sometimes we even argue with ourself!

Me: Yeah, that's when things get REALLY interesting!

Myself: Except for maybe those around us, then it's probably scary.

Me: True dat.

Myself: But to elaborate, I think it's quite alright to talk to oneself-

Me: And argue with oneself.

Myself: Right. On occasion...Rare occasions... But it's actually good to talk to oneself, as sometimes hearing one's thoughts out loud, as opposed to just in one's head, can help one out when one has a problem. I don't know how that works, but it's true. And studies have shown that, as well.

Me: Correct...As long as it doesn't cause actual, you know, mental issues-

I: Like when I - *lmao* - show up?

Me and Myself: Oh, God, here she is.

I: I - *lol* was just trying to give an example of what can happen when things get a little crazy and oneself starts talking to two of oneself...And for that matter, shouldn't it be called "talking to twoself?"...Or maybe threeself, in this instance. Hmmm...

Me: *blink*...Aaanyway...Um, yeah. It's ok as long as it doesn't show a break from reality, in which case it may be time to see a head doctor. It may also be time to talk to someone if you're talking to yourself so much that you start to avoid other people in favor of listening to yourself.

I: Or selves.

Myself: Riiight...and thanks to you, I, I think - or should that be Myself think...thinks? - that our readers now have a good idea of what insanity looks like. Thanks alot, I.

I: *hmph* I'm leaving, then. I - *lol*- know when I'm not wanted! *walks out in a huff*

Me: *cough* So, um, I...that is, Me...hopes that we haven't shown ourselves to be so kooky that you won't take our word for it.

Myself: Yep. It honestly can be a good thing...And fun, too.

Me: So, we hope we helped you out-

Myself: And entertained you.

Me: And that you can commence with talking to yourself without fear that you're totally losing it.

Myself: Unlike, Trina, here.

Me: You DO know that you're named Trina, too, right?

Myself:...

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Is it okay to talk to yourself?
Written by Tee_Hi
Talk to Oneself?
Myself: Did you hear that, Trina? She asked if it's okay to talk to oneself!

Me: You dummy. No, I did not "hear" it. But I did "read" it.

Myself: *sigh* You know bloody well what I meant!

Me:  Calm down, girl, *pfft ...lmao*! Little does she know that we do it, like, ALLLLLL, the time!

Myself: For real. Hell, sometimes we even argue with ourself!

Me: Yeah, that's when things get REALLY interesting!

Myself: Except for maybe those around us, then it's probably scary.

Me: True dat.

Myself: But to elaborate, I think it's quite alright to talk to oneself-

Me: And argue with oneself.

Myself: Right. On occasion...Rare occasions... But it's actually good to talk to oneself, as sometimes hearing one's thoughts out loud, as opposed to just in one's head, can help one out when one has a problem. I don't know how that works, but it's true. And studies have shown that, as well.

Me: Correct...As long as it doesn't cause actual, you know, mental issues-

I: Like when I - *lmao* - show up?

Me and Myself: Oh, God, here she is.

I: I - *lol* was just trying to give an example of what can happen when things get a little crazy and oneself starts talking to two of oneself...And for that matter, shouldn't it be called "talking to twoself?"...Or maybe threeself, in this instance. Hmmm...

Me: *blink*...Aaanyway...Um, yeah. It's ok as long as it doesn't show a break from reality, in which case it may be time to see a head doctor. It may also be time to talk to someone if you're talking to yourself so much that you start to avoid other people in favor of listening to yourself.

I: Or selves.

Myself: Riiight...and thanks to you, I, I think - or should that be Myself think...thinks? - that our readers now have a good idea of what insanity looks like. Thanks alot, I.

I: *hmph* I'm leaving, then. I - *lol*- know when I'm not wanted! *walks out in a huff*

Me: *cough* So, um, I...that is, Me...hopes that we haven't shown ourselves to be so kooky that you won't take our word for it.

Myself: Yep. It honestly can be a good thing...And fun, too.

Me: So, we hope we helped you out-

Myself: And entertained you.

Me: And that you can commence with talking to yourself without fear that you're totally losing it.

Myself: Unlike, Trina, here.

Me: You DO know that you're named Trina, too, right?

Myself:...
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Who's ready for another 15-worder?! Here it is: Say something about yourself from the perspective of an inanimate object. Compliments and insults are equally encouraged.
Written by Tee_Hi in portal Comedy

Ehgads!

Says Tee_Hi's laptop, "What'the fuck is she watching now?!...God, can I please turn myself off?!"

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Who's ready for another 15-worder?! Here it is: Say something about yourself from the perspective of an inanimate object. Compliments and insults are equally encouraged.
Written by Tee_Hi in portal Comedy
Ehgads!
Says Tee_Hi's laptop, "What'the fuck is she watching now?!...God, can I please turn myself off?!"
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Writer's block.
Written by Tee_Hi

My Antagonizing Protagonist

I stare at her and she stares at me.

The clock ticks. My stomach growls.

And still we stare at each other.

Finally, something breaks.

       "Why the fuck won't you talk to me, dammit?!" I scream at her in despair.

She says nothing.

       "I've read alot, a LOT, of interviews with authors who say their characters talk to them! Some authors even say their characters talk so much, they have to scream at them to shut up!...But not you. No! You stay silent!"

I look her in the eyes and she looks back, but her face conveys no emotion.

       "WHY?! Do you not like how I started your story? Did I do something wrong? Tell me! Tell me so I can fix it! I'm all ears!"

Still nothing.

Now I'm really angry and the threats come,

       "You fucking bitch! How about I just say 'fuck you' and write you out of the damn story, huh? How would you like that, Miss High and Mighty?...Huh?...If you won't freakin' talk, I bet someone else will!"

She's nonplussed. Her mouth doesn't so much as twitch.

I try a different tact,

       "Please," I cry, tears starting to fall, "just say SOMEthing. Give me ANYthing. One small nugget and I'll go from there...Please?...Please?... Whyyyyyyyyyyyyy?"

Still, she is unmoved. I stare at her, again, thinking of all the high hopes I had for a successful collaboration. I think of all the books we could sell together. I think of all the money we could have. I think of all the fun we should be having, drinking coffee and putting words to screen. Alas, my protagonist apparently has other plans.

Mutely, she sits. Staring at me, but not moving otherwise. Her mouth doesn't move. Her nose doesn't twitch. Her hands stay folded in her lap, ever so ladylike. She neither crosses nor uncrosses her legs. She doesn't straighten her unkempt hair. She does nothing but stare.

The clock ticks. My stomach growls.

       "Talk to me before I beat the dog shit out of you!" I put my face right up to hers, but not even a hair does she move, to back away from me. "I SAID you better. fucking. talk. to. me. now, dammit!"

Out of control, I grab her and start shaking her, back and forth, screaming, then slapping her, then screaming more. I've lost myself. Never ever before have I been abusive and now here I am, bloodying the one person I need most at the moment.

I somehow manage to get hold of myself. Walking over to the wall, I beat on it with my fist until it's bloodied and the wall is smeared with red, hoping to get my anger and frustration and torment out without hurting HER any more than I already have.

Finally collected, I go back and stare at her again. 

I stare. She stares. The clock ticks. My stomach growls.

I sigh. And I cry and I cry and I cry, while my protagonist sits, silent, unmoving, unhelpful.

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Writer's block.
Written by Tee_Hi
My Antagonizing Protagonist
I stare at her and she stares at me.

The clock ticks. My stomach growls.

And still we stare at each other.

Finally, something breaks.

       "Why the fuck won't you talk to me, dammit?!" I scream at her in despair.

She says nothing.

       "I've read alot, a LOT, of interviews with authors who say their characters talk to them! Some authors even say their characters talk so much, they have to scream at them to shut up!...But not you. No! You stay silent!"

I look her in the eyes and she looks back, but her face conveys no emotion.

       "WHY?! Do you not like how I started your story? Did I do something wrong? Tell me! Tell me so I can fix it! I'm all ears!"

Still nothing.

Now I'm really angry and the threats come,
       "You fucking bitch! How about I just say 'fuck you' and write you out of the damn story, huh? How would you like that, Miss High and Mighty?...Huh?...If you won't freakin' talk, I bet someone else will!"

She's nonplussed. Her mouth doesn't so much as twitch.

I try a different tact,
       "Please," I cry, tears starting to fall, "just say SOMEthing. Give me ANYthing. One small nugget and I'll go from there...Please?...Please?... Whyyyyyyyyyyyyy?"

Still, she is unmoved. I stare at her, again, thinking of all the high hopes I had for a successful collaboration. I think of all the books we could sell together. I think of all the money we could have. I think of all the fun we should be having, drinking coffee and putting words to screen. Alas, my protagonist apparently has other plans.

Mutely, she sits. Staring at me, but not moving otherwise. Her mouth doesn't move. Her nose doesn't twitch. Her hands stay folded in her lap, ever so ladylike. She neither crosses nor uncrosses her legs. She doesn't straighten her unkempt hair. She does nothing but stare.

The clock ticks. My stomach growls.

       "Talk to me before I beat the dog shit out of you!" I put my face right up to hers, but not even a hair does she move, to back away from me. "I SAID you better. fucking. talk. to. me. now, dammit!"

Out of control, I grab her and start shaking her, back and forth, screaming, then slapping her, then screaming more. I've lost myself. Never ever before have I been abusive and now here I am, bloodying the one person I need most at the moment.

I somehow manage to get hold of myself. Walking over to the wall, I beat on it with my fist until it's bloodied and the wall is smeared with red, hoping to get my anger and frustration and torment out without hurting HER any more than I already have.

Finally collected, I go back and stare at her again. 

I stare. She stares. The clock ticks. My stomach growls.

I sigh. And I cry and I cry and I cry, while my protagonist sits, silent, unmoving, unhelpful.
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The neighborhood kids, always, avoid that tree.
Written by Tee_Hi

That Tree

The neighborhood kids always avoid that tree. For that tree has a bark that is as bad as its bite. Because it’s bark IS its bite.

Picture this:

July 2012 AD, hell.

The devil – Sate-man, as he likes to be called, to keep up with the times – is on the warpath. Hell is hot on any given day, but on this particular day in July, it’s extra hot, with zero chance of rain or even wind. Sate-man would just go above ground, but he’s got paperwork – it’s always the gotdamn paperwork, isn’t it?! – to sign so the demons can go about their business.

Fuckin’ ingrates, he thinks, can’t do a damn thing – and I mean that literally, a damn thing, hah! – without supervision. I tell fuckin’ Laziness to attach himself to Martha like red on Trump and Laziness says he needs an affidavit! An affidavit?! What the fuck?! What the hell – hell! - is this world coming to when a demon can’t even do its damn – damn, hah! – job without filing a form first?! Sheez!

So, Sate-man is slaving away under a pile of paperwork, when he soon feels parched. He rings for his butler, Alfredthazar, who enters and asks what his master would like. Sate-man says he needs some water – a lot of water – and he needs it NOW. Alfredthazar nods and says the demon-dogs have just returned with a few buckets of such liquid; would his wickedness like them to bring him some? Sate-man nods and Alfredthazar is off. Sate-man goes back to work.

An hour later, Sate-man realizes he hasn’t received his water. He rings for Alfredthazar, who enters and stands quietly.

“Do I really have to ask the question, old man? Where the fuck is my water? What happened to Cerebruston, Tripoly, and Spot?”

Alfredthazar clears his throat. “I’m s-sorry, your eminence. The dogs got detained and, well…”

“And?”

“They ended up drinking the water and had to go fetch more.” Alfredthazar was suddenly inordinately interested in the intricacies of the design on Sate-man’s floor, as he studied them intently.

“They WHAT?!”

“I…I…I’m sorry.” Alfredthazar was still scanning the floor, unable to look Sate-man in the face. “They ran into a cat and well…” he let the words trail off and prepared for a thrashing.

“They ran into a fucking CAT?! Send them in here as soon as they return and they better have the gotdamn water!”

“Yes, sir.” Alfredthazar moved faster than Sate-man thought possible for someone of his age and all was quiet again.

Fifteen minutes later, Cerebruston, Tripoly, and Spot came padding in. Sans water.

Irate, Sate-man started yelling at the trio, who cowered under his wrath. The leader, Tripoly, tried to interject with whining and intermittent growling, but Sate-man was not to be calmed. He continued ranting and raving and telling the poor canines what half-assed pooches they were. Demon dogs, indeed. “More like pussies!” he yelled.

Tantrum done, Sate-man handed down his verdict. “The three of you are now banned to a tree above-ground, inside of which you shall live for 1000 years.”

Cerebruston tried running, but Sate-man flicked his wrist and the dog was frozen in place. He continued, “You will be able to see the outside world, but no more interacting with it. No more pats on the head, no more treats, no more smiles flung in your direction.” He glared at each of the dogs, who bowed their heads, tails between their legs. “You will, however, be able to bark – bark, hah! - at young passersby – adults will not be able to see or hear you, all the more torture for you! - and, should they touch the tree, you’ll bite them, causing them to die and immediately be sent here...You might as well benefit me somehow during your banishment.”

And with that, the trio was banished to that tree.

At first, the children didn’t know anything was different about the tree, but then one day, young Timmy Witmore and his cousin, Chauncey Landers, were playing under the tree, when they suddenly heard barking.

“Timmy! It sounds like it’s coming from the tree!” the five-year-old redhead said. Chauncey ran his hand over a branch, then suddenly yelped. His hand was red and bleeding and swelling up. They ran for Chauncey’s home and told his parents what happened. They rushed him to the ER, but it was too late. Shortly thereafter, the boy died. His parents just thought he sliced his hand on a bark and got infected and that the dog barking was a coincidence. But Timmy knew better. As children do, he told all his friends. Some didn’t believe him and they had to investigate for themselves. Upon hearing the barking, they’d run away, frightened.

And so, the neighborhood kids always avoid that tree.

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The neighborhood kids, always, avoid that tree.
Written by Tee_Hi
That Tree
The neighborhood kids always avoid that tree. For that tree has a bark that is as bad as its bite. Because it’s bark IS its bite.

Picture this:
July 2012 AD, hell.
The devil – Sate-man, as he likes to be called, to keep up with the times – is on the warpath. Hell is hot on any given day, but on this particular day in July, it’s extra hot, with zero chance of rain or even wind. Sate-man would just go above ground, but he’s got paperwork – it’s always the gotdamn paperwork, isn’t it?! – to sign so the demons can go about their business.

Fuckin’ ingrates, he thinks, can’t do a damn thing – and I mean that literally, a damn thing, hah! – without supervision. I tell fuckin’ Laziness to attach himself to Martha like red on Trump and Laziness says he needs an affidavit! An affidavit?! What the fuck?! What the hell – hell! - is this world coming to when a demon can’t even do its damn – damn, hah! – job without filing a form first?! Sheez!

So, Sate-man is slaving away under a pile of paperwork, when he soon feels parched. He rings for his butler, Alfredthazar, who enters and asks what his master would like. Sate-man says he needs some water – a lot of water – and he needs it NOW. Alfredthazar nods and says the demon-dogs have just returned with a few buckets of such liquid; would his wickedness like them to bring him some? Sate-man nods and Alfredthazar is off. Sate-man goes back to work.

An hour later, Sate-man realizes he hasn’t received his water. He rings for Alfredthazar, who enters and stands quietly.

“Do I really have to ask the question, old man? Where the fuck is my water? What happened to Cerebruston, Tripoly, and Spot?”

Alfredthazar clears his throat. “I’m s-sorry, your eminence. The dogs got detained and, well…”

“And?”

“They ended up drinking the water and had to go fetch more.” Alfredthazar was suddenly inordinately interested in the intricacies of the design on Sate-man’s floor, as he studied them intently.

“They WHAT?!”

“I…I…I’m sorry.” Alfredthazar was still scanning the floor, unable to look Sate-man in the face. “They ran into a cat and well…” he let the words trail off and prepared for a thrashing.

“They ran into a fucking CAT?! Send them in here as soon as they return and they better have the gotdamn water!”

“Yes, sir.” Alfredthazar moved faster than Sate-man thought possible for someone of his age and all was quiet again.

Fifteen minutes later, Cerebruston, Tripoly, and Spot came padding in. Sans water.

Irate, Sate-man started yelling at the trio, who cowered under his wrath. The leader, Tripoly, tried to interject with whining and intermittent growling, but Sate-man was not to be calmed. He continued ranting and raving and telling the poor canines what half-assed pooches they were. Demon dogs, indeed. “More like pussies!” he yelled.

Tantrum done, Sate-man handed down his verdict. “The three of you are now banned to a tree above-ground, inside of which you shall live for 1000 years.”

Cerebruston tried running, but Sate-man flicked his wrist and the dog was frozen in place. He continued, “You will be able to see the outside world, but no more interacting with it. No more pats on the head, no more treats, no more smiles flung in your direction.” He glared at each of the dogs, who bowed their heads, tails between their legs. “You will, however, be able to bark – bark, hah! - at young passersby – adults will not be able to see or hear you, all the more torture for you! - and, should they touch the tree, you’ll bite them, causing them to die and immediately be sent here...You might as well benefit me somehow during your banishment.”

And with that, the trio was banished to that tree.

At first, the children didn’t know anything was different about the tree, but then one day, young Timmy Witmore and his cousin, Chauncey Landers, were playing under the tree, when they suddenly heard barking.

“Timmy! It sounds like it’s coming from the tree!” the five-year-old redhead said. Chauncey ran his hand over a branch, then suddenly yelped. His hand was red and bleeding and swelling up. They ran for Chauncey’s home and told his parents what happened. They rushed him to the ER, but it was too late. Shortly thereafter, the boy died. His parents just thought he sliced his hand on a bark and got infected and that the dog barking was a coincidence. But Timmy knew better. As children do, he told all his friends. Some didn’t believe him and they had to investigate for themselves. Upon hearing the barking, they’d run away, frightened.

And so, the neighborhood kids always avoid that tree.
8
3
4
Juice
73 reads
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Upon reading the ageless nonsense captured in famous nursery rhymes, you may be thinking "contrary marys and merry kings and muffets and poseys and dumpties....what a load of twaddle! .. How has that survived all these years?" but then the next day as you sit by yourself and find your mind rehearsing the verses involuntarily, you realize: They're catchy as heck. Write your own nursery rhyme. Fill it full of semi-sensical but catchy phrases.
Written by Tee_Hi

Rhymes for the Nursery

PIG 'N HOG

piggle wiggle, piggle wig,

a pig in a poke

sat down beside

a hog in a cloak.

both of them were shy,

so neither one spoke

'til they saw and heard

what they thought was smoke.

said the pig to the hog,

"i think we're toast",

said the hog to the pig,

"perhaps a roast."

toasty, roasty,

two chops on a plate,

they tried to run,

but were too late.

================================

NUNU

cluckity cluck cluck,

cock a doodle doo,

there once was a hen

and her name was Nunu.

she ran to paris,

then she ran to peru

and then she ran

to timbuktu.

10
4
6
Juice
68 reads
Donate coins to Tee_Hi.
Juice
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Upon reading the ageless nonsense captured in famous nursery rhymes, you may be thinking "contrary marys and merry kings and muffets and poseys and dumpties....what a load of twaddle! .. How has that survived all these years?" but then the next day as you sit by yourself and find your mind rehearsing the verses involuntarily, you realize: They're catchy as heck. Write your own nursery rhyme. Fill it full of semi-sensical but catchy phrases.
Written by Tee_Hi
Rhymes for the Nursery
PIG 'N HOG
piggle wiggle, piggle wig,
a pig in a poke
sat down beside
a hog in a cloak.
both of them were shy,
so neither one spoke
'til they saw and heard
what they thought was smoke.

said the pig to the hog,
"i think we're toast",
said the hog to the pig,
"perhaps a roast."
toasty, roasty,
two chops on a plate,
they tried to run,
but were too late.

================================
NUNU
cluckity cluck cluck,
cock a doodle doo,
there once was a hen
and her name was Nunu.
she ran to paris,
then she ran to peru
and then she ran
to timbuktu.
10
4
6
Juice
68 reads
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