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Archive for the ‘Writing’ Category

Mascot

Tuesday, August 7th, 2007

Mascot

So here’s this week’s Barefoot Kraken, regarding that all-important team-spirit building device, the mascot.

Now I realize that for some of you, this whole mascot fad may be a bit confusing, so I’ve done some research and developed a guide for anyone wanting to get in on it, as the kids say.

Uncle Nathan’s Guide to Mascots and the Creation Thereof

Step one: Pick an animal. For the least confusion, this should be either a cougar, eagle, or tiger. That way if you move from one school to another, there will be an 82% chance that you won’t have to buy new merchandise.

Step two: Draw your animal snarling in rage with claws extended, because nothing says team spirit like “I’m going to rip out your jugular and strangle you with it.”

Step three: If your animal lacks the appropriate features to instill a decent amount of fear while growling, you may opt for giving it huge biceps instead. Because it obviously works out. Even though it’s just a bird.

Step four: Take your muscle-bound, fang-baring mascot and create a costume that might possibly be the same animal, but could pass for a cuddly polar bear if need be. Then tell someone to put it on and dance around the court like a psychotic easter bunny. Because that’ll show the other team you mean business.

Rachel’s entry ›

Panda!

Tuesday, June 5th, 2007

Panda and Sword
As the Philosopher once said:
“Even the panda, being but a beast of small stature when lying in the mud, has every recourse to take up arms against those oppressive forces of human nature—greed, jealousy, and verisimilitude—and strike a blow for the preponderance of earthly denizens foraging out their days in the wilderness of lonely hope.”

Tomfoolery

Tuesday, April 17th, 2007

Balloon and Goat

Chief among the pastimes of that community was the surreptitious acquisition of a father’s hot air balloon, whether by a secret night outing or a cleverly placed diversion of viking look-alikes in a neighbor’s ferret pen.

The balloons allowed a level of freedom hitherto unknown to these country children, who might otherwise have never ventured beyond the borders of their respective family estates. As it was, however, the surrounding settlements became quite accustomed to the periodic discovery of distraught livestock perched atop trees, barns, and commonly Mrs. Henett’s outhouse.

The Highlight of the Conference

Tuesday, February 6th, 2007

Hairball

Then Edna, having brought most of the audience’s wandering minds back to complete alertness with an exclamation of, “And now for something completely different,” reached behind the podium, and with a tug and grunt of exertion produced something quite different indeed.

At this point, almost all of the select few that had not been alerted by her previous announcement were forced into weary coherence, leaving only the man in the plaid overalls completely immune to the situation. Though as it turned out, he had been dead since half-past four.

Hollow Giving

Tuesday, October 24th, 2006

Hollow Giving
Pa: Here you go, Jimmy. I’ve got a present for you.
Jimmy: But, Pa, I feel a healthy indifference toward radishes!
Pa: I know, son. ::Pats Jimmy on the back::
Jimmy: But Pa! Are we mutants?
Pa: From the look of our hands, old chap, I’d have to say yes. Now shut up.

Hallowgiving

Thursday, October 19th, 2006

Arachniturkey

Thanksgiving and Halloween are really quite similar, you know. I mean, they’re practically on top of each other when it comes to the calendar, they’re both bursting with your standard fall color scheme, and while you worship the devil during one, the other has you paying homage to a wad of congealed berry juice (practically the same thing).

I think combining the two would definitely save time. Who needs to spend hours cooking a full turkey dinner when you can just go collect some candy? Though I guess one drawback would be the name, since it would most likely come out sounding like “hollowgiving”, which might make some people doubt the sincerity of the love and thought behind the candy and bits of deli meat being tossed into their sacks.

History in the Making

Monday, October 2nd, 2006

Squirrel Helm

Over time the story became somewhat cloudy and muddled (sometimes it wasn’t a squirrel, but a rat), but the smith ever after maintained that it was the most stunning revelation he’d ever had. “If that vermin hadn’t decided to relax on the sun-warmed hull of my latest creation,” he told his chair (he was pushing 80), “I’d never have realized what I’d been missing all these years.”

And medieval war-fashion was never the same.

The Toyland Untensil Rebellion, Part 2

Monday, September 25th, 2006

Eggbeater Bear

Excerpt from the diary of Hedgewold von Bufhousen

July 15, 1992

Dear Eloise,

This may come as a shock to you, but I was right all along. That creepy bear from the Wellinghouse Foundation’s annual Donation Drive and Chariot Race hates me.

I woke up from a deep, and what would have been rejuvenating, sleep around three o’clock in the morning to see it standing in my doorway, an eggbeater gripped in its villainously-stuffed paws. I was so startled, that I believe I fainted quite away. Upon rising in the morning, I found my entire shoelace collection a horrendous mess of frayed tangles – as if someone had taken an eggbeater to it. I believe this is more than mere coincidence.

From now on, I shall take a can of Raid to bed with me.

The Toyland Utensil Rebellion, Part 1

Wednesday, September 20th, 2006

Spatula Ballerina

Excerpt from the diary of Hedgewold von Bufhousen

July 10, 1992

Dear Diary, or should I call you Elsa? I know we’ve been through a lot, and I’ve had my share of, shall we say, episodes, but even you can attest to the fact that I am categorically not insane.

Having said that, I now have the duty to report a most intriguing turn of events. I was sitting quietly in my reclining chair, my lovely hand-carved tobacco pipe firmly clutched in my handsome knuckles, when my eyes fell upon the mantle above my fireplace. More specifically, upon the small ballerina music box which Aunt Reginald had the foresight to bestow upon me last Easter.

I know this may sound strange to one such as yourself, but I’m quite positive the girl was holding one of my spatulas above her head! Though how she came upon it in the first place is a mystery to me, as is the apparent discrepancy in my spatula’s size from when I used it to get taffy off the cat last fortnight to now, as it sat, no more than an inch long, in the handless grip of a plastic doll. I must be getting old. In fact, I find myself not even liking fudge the way I used to.

P.S. Did you know a ballerina can also be called a danseuse? I find that rather humorous for some reason.


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