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The best thing about writing is molding life to characters you find interesting. The worst about it is having these characters crowd your head, unable to get out because you haven't written down the pages for them. Continue writing? Hell, yes. This blog is a way of letting these characters out for a gulp of air. I love creating them. They remind me that there's a nutjob in all of us. Some are in for a brief appearance via short stories. Others are in for the long haul, peppering a novel I have written. Enjoy these stories. After all, life is more fantastic than we imagine it to be.

Saturday, December 5, 2009

Walls Have Ears

It has been difficult to cast a net over my thoughts this past week. They have their own trajectory, fueled by unrelated incidents that seem to have decided among themselves to have a joint visit. I had a short story plot already in mind. But it did not reflect the blender of emotions I have been sloshing through. So as a tribute to that, I figured a different story is more apt for my mood these days.

They say change is good. But nobody accompanies you in the jump off the cliff. Life is a journey you take with yourself. Enjoy reading.

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"Can somebody help me up?" mumbled the mobile phone, which lay face down on the carpet.

"Would like to, buddy. But we all know we can't help you. The last time vacuum cleaner tried, you almost choked to death," answered the coffee table.

"Let's hope the dog doesn't carry you off again. He's been frisky these days. I got brand-new scratches and bites," the door complained.

"At least he's not as bad-tempered as his mistress. What happened just now? It's like a volcano erupted! I got a kick from nowhere," grumbled the couch.

The phone started to relay why he went airborne from the bedroom door to the living room carpet.

"Hey, hey, slow down. You're choppy!" shouted the window.

"I'll help him out. This is what happened guys," offered the wall. "She found out that her problem assistant failed to follow up an important client. She called him up and the 34th war in middle earth ensued. Godzilla versus a dim-witted, scatterbrained elf."

"She's not always Godzilla. She should get rid of him. The guy's an idiot of the worst kind. An idiot who thinks he's doing nothing wrong. And I can't stand another barrage of slamming. My hinges are creaking in protest already," complained the bedroom door.

"It's her fault. She knows what's wrong with her employee yet takes pity on him after the whiplash is over. Then we brace ourselves for another shout down," said the coffee table.

"It's not technically a shout down when only one party is shouting," corrected the window.

"I agree. Remember when her old boyfriend was around? The insecure, control freak?" contributed the main door.

"It took her years to realize they were wrong for each other. Their last months were more stressful than a Black Friday sale," said the television.

"Humans don't get stressed with Sale. They love it! Look at us," said the couch.

"They don't. We do. I was praying I wouldn't get ripped apart by two women fighting over me," the curtain replied.

"Anyway, back to the old boyfriend, you didn't get to meet him, did you Vase?" asked the main door.

"No. I heard my predecessor met her end after being thrown along with a bunch of flowers the ex gave her," answered the vase timidly.

"Oh yes. I still have my pockmarks due to that incident," said the wall. "Gone are the days that lovers only tore letters. Now they have a lot of objects at their disposal. Case in point, our friend the phone. And back in the bedroom, the laptop."

"My keyboard is still recovering from the angry email she sent her staff," came the laptop's feeble reply.

"Should I worry?" the vase seemed more nervous than usual.

"Oh, don't. She won't destroy house stuff for an employee. For boyfriends, yes. But her current love is a total sweetheart," gushed the window.

"He's good for her. Calms her when the Godzilla and the 50-foot woman in her go crazy," chimed in the bed.

"She's back," whispered the main door.

"There you are," the young woman uttered upon opening the door. She immediately picked up her phone. While dialing, she walks to the bedroom, "Hey baby, I had an outburst again. Yes, I know. I should have kept my cool. But Jerry is an unteachable moron! Yeah, yeah, he's hopeless. I had a long walk after shouting at him. Will talk to him tomorrow. Yes, calmly. I threw just my phone today, nothing else. And pounded on the keyboard. But nothing else..."

"And she's sane again," announced the bed.

"You're safe," whispered the coffee table to the vase.

"Ah, those are our masters and mistresses. They're crazier than they think they are," said the door.

"True. None of us should get caught up with their drama. They usually get over it and move on to the next. You'll just go insane if you take everything they do seriously," advised the wall. "As our ancestors have done, let's do our jobs, sit back and enjoy their dysfunctional show."

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