Silent Swiss

Underneath the rubble, a golden key lay. A gloved hand picked it carefully out of the remains of the safety deposit box in the banks crumbling plaster wall. His hand raised it to eye level, blew off the sooty ash, and then turned between his fingers so it caught the dim shafts of light, peaking through the vaults door. The key was about an inch and a half long, solid gold with the numbers 3176 engraved on the handle. They matched. He twirled it in his fingers so it flashed and sparkled from the halls light, reflecting off the dark walls. He slipped it in his chest pocket and turned hurrying out of the devastation. The concrete remains crumbled and cracked below his combat boots as he staggered to the thick steel door. Grasping the vaults door frame, he swung himself easily over the smoldering wreckage of an expired detonator, and slipped through the dark shadowy halls of the office building. Exiting the building out a back basement door, an idle black Audi A4 was sitting next to a graffitied dumpster. Silently, he hopped the railing and accumulated trash bags lining the concrete low wall and slipped into the cars back seat. He closed the door, and turned to face a man dressed in an Swiss tailored black suit. In one hand he held a black leather brief case and in the other a sleek magnum pointed directly at his face. The thief calmly removed his mask. The man lowered the his gun. Without a word, the thief extracted the tiny golden key from the network of tiny pockets lining his chest, and placed it on top of the brief case, pushing it slowly across the glossy leather surface towards the man. The mans eyes fell to the key. He picked it up, raising it to eye level catching the dim light from the dank ally street lamps out side the car. Silently he slipped the key in his own breast pocket and pushed the brief case across the leather seat toward the thief. The thief gave a nod to the man and stepped out of the car as silently as an owl leaving its perch in search of prey. The door shut with snap, the tires screeched, and the car roared out of the alley, leaving a mist of alley sewage frothing in its tire wake. The thief watched the car whip around the corner into the road, its brake lights a slash of red in the dark night. He turned and in a second was swallowed by the darkness.

The Kitchen

On those days of sticky hot weather I love to sit and smell:
sipping soda,
munching Swedish Fish,
thinking of cool Scandinavia.
Listening to the kitchen sounds of sizzling sauteing steaks,
absorbing delectable smells of a stewing soup.
I could sink into a stupor of submission to the kitchen.

Gamble

He was trapped in chance. The odds were not in his favor. The decision could cost him more than poker chips. Red dice jingled in his moist left hand. He let them go, bouncing across the green felt.
"Snakes Eyes!"
Relief swept over him and then terror. Out of the darkness slithered something huge...

Five ways to deal with: "Flies in the Soup"

1. Delighted, she places the fly in her mouth, slowly letting the soggy warm carcass dissolved in her mouth.

2. Completely aghast, she grabs her mouth with her left hand and her undulating stomach with her right, and belches her soup across the dinner table.

3. Mrs. Fulton carefully spoons out the fly, sets it down next to her china bowl, and proceeds to eat the steaming pea soup.

4. Running to the kitchen, she desperately grabs a set of chop sticks and grabbing the fly by its rear leg, slowly lowers the fly in a small plastic box. Running to the living room, she opens a chest drawer and adds it to the other dozen creatures found in previous pea soups.

5. She swaps bowls with Mr. Fulton.

Ms. Guinn's Class Adventure

It was a sunny Monday morning and all of Ms. Guinn's class arrived to school on time. All the class was seated quietly with their hands folded when they noticed that Ms. Guinn was not there.

Just then Eleanor noticed a letter on the board. It was addressed to all of them.

Olivia sprang from her seat, opened the letter, and read to the class:

"Just because I am not here,
do not worry or feel fear.
You must work together as a group,
like ingredients that make up soup,
If you work together you will find me,
just begin in the library."

The students looked at each other wondering what this could mean. Orion jumped out behind his desk and read the last line of the riddle: "...just begin in the library."
"Ms. Guinn wants us to go to the library! We should go to the library and meet her there!"
So Ms. Guinn's class all filed out of her class room and proceeded to the library.

When they arrived, they did not seem Ms. Guinn waiting for them. They waited. And waited. And waited. Tired of waiting, Adeline proposed, "Maybe we should look for another letter like the one she left us in our class room." "Yeah," cried Jacob, "Maybe Ms. Guinn left us another clue!" "It must be here in the library," added Antania,"Hidden!" They all agreed, and set out in the library in pairs to look for Ms. Guinn's letter.

After five minutes of frantic searching, Maclain and Lizzy noticed a corner of a white envelope, similar to the first letter concealed behind a stack of children's book. Student Renny and Anna also saw it, and hurried over, calling to the class that they found the missing letter. The rest of the class gathered around holding their breath to see what Ms. Guinn wanted them to do next.

Jack opened the envelope, unfolded the note and read aloud:

"Just because I am not here,
do not worry or feel fear.
You must work together as a group,
like ingredients that make up soup.
Working together like in team sports,
my next clue is somewhere next to the basketball courts.

Jack looked up after he read the letter and shouted, "We should go to the basketball court. That is Ms. Guinn's next clue!" "Just like the library. I bet that letter is also hidden." Ella said thoughtfully.

So the students all hurried outside to the basketball court. When they arrived it was deserted. They all walked over to the basketball court, but did not see the letter anywhere.
"Maybe we should look for another clue like the one in the library and our class room." said Maclain. So again they split up in pairs, and set about searching the basketball court and play ground.

After ten minutes, Daniel shouted that he saw a corner of envelope. "I see it too!" yelled Travon exuberantly. The rest of the class ran over, and at the very top of the slide, an envelope was peeking out between the end of the play structure and the top of the slide.

Richard scampered up the slide, grabbed the letter, and tossed it down to Andy. Andy caught it, the turned over the envelope, and ripped open the next clue. Andy unfolded the paper and read aloud:

"Just I am not here,
do not worry or feel fear.
You must work together as a group,
like ingredients that make up soup.
Now to find me, return to my room,
and you might find me next to the balloons."

"What balloons is she talking about?" asked Jasmine.
"We don't have any balloons in the class room." added Kya.
"Why would there be balloons in our the class room?" piped up Aiden.

Wondering why there could be balloons in the class room, they all sprinted back to Ms. Guinn's room. When they arrived, the sight they saw made their jaws drop...

Ms. Guinn was standing in the front of the classroom next to a huge bushel of balloons. Next to the balloons was a table with a huge birthday cake. Ms. Guinn smiled and laughed at the astonished looks on her children's faces. "You must have forgot it was my birthday. I thought we could have a little game and work together to celebrate. You all did a wonderful job working together and solving my riddles. Let's celebrate and eat cake."

The students cheered, and all lined up so they could each get a large slice of cake. They ate the cake together and talked happily remembering their adventure. Ms. Guinn smiled in the back round and laughed. It was a good day.

Something Rotten

Rex Prince was standing in his office. The lights hummed in a dull baritone while the plastic blinds bounced against the white window sill, propelled by the AC vent above him. He lowered his head into his hands.
"This headache will not stop throbbing," he mumbled, "Those ridiculous pollen trees coat my car and the inside of my tender lungs."
He coughed, and then opened his office door, thinking to himself that he should get a cup of coffee to relieve the pain. He opened the door to the small kitchen in the back of the copy room. Claude was there too. He turned and smiled at Rex. He was holding two steaming coffee cups.
"I thought you looked a little ill," he said, handing him the larger of the two mugs. "Allergies and pollen have the same effect on me as you apparently."
Res brought the steaming cup to his nose and inhaled. It smelled sweet, most likely Colombian. He drank deeply, the steaming coffee sering his throat. The drink hit his system like raw adrenaline, causing his nostrils to flare and his eyes to open wide. It was delicious, but held a hint of a pungent taste Rex had no explanation for...
(Act Four, Scene One...)
"Olivia, get your butt down here so we can talk!"
Claude let go of the stage banister, and turned away, facing the audience his hands crossed against his barrel chest.
"I don't know what she is doing up there. She has been looking for her sweater for the last half an hour."
Claude turned and faced the leather couch on which Horatio and Hamilton were sitting patiently.
"Where is your dad again?" he asked slyly.
"Upstairs." replied Hamilton.
Claude grunted and looked at his watch.
"I am going to get her," he said as his ran up the stairs taking two steps at a time.
After about thirty seconds of silence in the living room, Olivia came bounding down stairs pulling a sweater over his head.
"I couldn't find it till I looked under the bed," she said, grinning at both of them. She turned to Hamilton. "I thought your dad was asleep, but his door was open?"
"Well, he's taking his five o'clock nap..." said Hamilton his voice trailing off.
He got up, and jogged up the stairs. When he got to the upstairs landing, his dad's door was indeed open. His heart froze. Muffled bumps and scraping were coming from the inside of the bedroom. Hamilton braced himself, and charged into the bedroom his fists barred, ready for a fight. Claude was already there, a dripping knife in his bloody left hand and his dads neck in the other.
"He just wouldn't die fast enough," he grimaced, turning squarely to face him. With a yell, he leapt forward at Hamilton, the knife bared. Hamilton side steeped the mad Claude, flattening himself against the bedroom wall. Claude tripped, stumbled, and then landed on his own knife with a scream. He moved no more.

Code name: Caleb 007 Florence

It may sound foolish, but I have always dreamt of being James Bond. Aside from the many cheesy plots and sticky situations he often gets into, James Bond seems to be someone who continues to make regular returns to the Hollywood stage and leaves with the lady and victory. Bond, also known by the notorious yet secret code name 007, is a character that I admire for his determination and daring, and one who seeks the quest of glory among criminals and women since his first appearance over forty years ago. Equipped with state of the art gear, Bond is a man who seems to vanquish terrorists and drug runners alike, and seemingly ending up with the girl. Bond, although a hero, also can be misjudged as a women loving agent, often appearing complacent and arrogant among fellow British Secret service henchmen. I therefore encourage everyone to look past the women living side, and realize that deep in his heart, Bond is truly follows the motto: "world before women." James Bond does have a heart, and if the world did look past his suave stature, most would find it hidden just below the surface if his slippery character. Often, I too would feel obliged to rid the world of evil and end up with a Hollywood sweat heart myself. Bond continues to maintain this urbane craftiness throughout all of his films in which I take most influential likeness too. With his uncanny ability to dodge bullets and assassination attempts, I tip my hat to such an astute and world caring person.

Photography Blog

The day is cool as a breath of air sweeps through the grass. Shafts of light cut through the trees creating a kind of splotchy perimeter around the field. The ground is warm and dry, the grass cut short so that sports of all kinds can be played here. I am sitting still, my face squinting up into the sun. Birds chirp and sing, cars rumble off in the distance, yet in this field, an element of peacefulness reaches me isolated me from the outside world. A metallic click snaps the warm air as a camera shudder bites the atmosphere, forever freezing that moment. I open my eyes and turn to face a glossy concave camera lends feet from from my face. The moment diminishes in a blink of an eye. My dad peers out from behind its sleek black frame. He has finally finished breaking in his new camera. This is his fifth shot, hopefully his last.

(The rather inappropriate) Shaggy Dog Story

"Dad I am leaving!"
"Alright, be home before twelve please!"
"But Dad it ends at twelve, and it takes over a half an hour to get home. Plus, I have to drop off Crystal home and..." (his voice trials off)
"Nope, be home before twelve."
"But dad..."
"No son! If I have told you once, I have told you a hundred times. Always remember: age before booty!"