Dog stories. (With help from people435)

Bye Fergie, I’ll see you at 3. “The owner said as he abruptly closed the door. As the sound of the car coming out of the drive-way, Fergie let out a huge, massive, fart. “God, I thought he was never going to leave.” And simultaneously, stood up on two legs. With that, he opened the fridge and reached for a cold one. After he threw that back, he reached for the steak and brought into the TV room, where he then crawled onto the Laz-E-boy, threw up his legs, and turned on the pet channel.
5 hours later…

“How can animals be so stupid, obeying every command that they give them?” He muttered, “Have some free will.” As he sat back for a good afternoon of licking, he began to ponder how long the owner was gone for. That’s when the crap hit the fan. He was cranking “Back in Black” from the TV in ACDC’s live concert in Washington, playing the air drums with is tongue, when the owner walked in. The dog looked at the owner with pale white fur, and the owner looked at the dog with a look of disbelieve. “Looks like someone’s been eating too much cat food again.” The owner said with a grin. The dog almost forgot his potty training.

What do people say behind your back.

Throughout the history of mankind, we have often been troubled by thousands of questions which appear to be merely unanswerable. Some of these are “Does the universe end?” “What’s the purpose in life?” or “Why do people watch Pretty Little Liars?” So far, we have not been able to solve these elusive mysteries of the universe. But some of the greatest minds have focused on far more plausible questions, such as “What’s really in a happy meal?” or “What is the color of love?” or even “How much wood could a wood chuck chuck if a wood chuck was Chuck Norris.” But there is one question that has been plaguing the minds of kids and adults alike. “What do people say behind your back?”

For the sake of making this easy, I’m going to tell you the truth. I don’t know what people think of you. But I do know what people think of me, so I’m going to use their perspectives as examples. What I’m going to use is what I think of me, what my peers think of me, what my teachers think of me and what my cats think of me.

What I think of me: A dashing young man who has a stunning smile, a cool black Hurley hat, an amazing military grade Timex watch, a cool back pack, a high tech spy phone that only the manliest of men would use, who has amazing courtesies, a sarcastic sense of humor, and is smart to boot.

What my peers think of me: An annoying punk who has crooked teeth, an ugly black hat made by god knows what company, an oversized Wal-Mart military themed watch, an ugly backpack that has the pattern of a static TV, a noobie slide phone that might have been high tech back in the stone age, who is rude, ignorant, and is as nerdy as big all yanchavic in his white and nerdy music video.

What my teachers think of me: A special kid who is more fit to sit in the corner and color all day than to do advanced physics. He never smiles, always wears his hat in school (even though we tell him not too), a watch that we hope is accurate because we keep asking him the time, a backpack that can apparently hold a skateboard, but can’t hold on to his homework page, a phone that’s actually a phone that he apparently can’t silence during a test, an annoying sense of humor, and seems to think he is the best student in the class, besides the fact that we ask him preschool questions.

What my cat thinks of me: A man-pig who supplies me with food, water, a scratching post (his arm), and a nice bathroom (His bed). Always tries to pet my stomach, hides the scratch marks with the huge metal thing on his arm, has a back-pack that is good for a makeshift bed when I’m not lying on his face while he sleeps. He talks in a language I do not understand, but I just assume it means “Lay on my face while I sleep,” and seems to know what kind of cat food I want.

The whole point I wrote this was to shed light on why people say these things behind your back,
And I think I have an answer. I believe people say these things behind your back because, and this is my opinion, they are too scared to say it to your face. I also believe that true friends say good things behind you back, and bad things to your face, so I’m probably a kook. Another reason they say things behind your back is because they are insecure about themselves and are looking for someone they can say bad things to that they wish they could say to themselves. One more reason is that their looking for a scapegoat to blame all their problems on. The list goes on and on and there are many reasons why they could do these things, but it really depends on their personality. They could be a really lonely person and they don’t know how to talk to people, so they take out their pent up rage on you. Or some tragic thing has happened in their life and they are sad and lost and don’t know what to do. Or maybe they are jealous of you and they want to see you brought down to their level. Or maybe their rich, snobby, and arrogant and they don’t understand love and compassion, or maybe they just suck. This is where people forget that they have to understand why a person is doing something, or you can’t help them deal with their problem and make them stop.

By Triston

Apr.5

It was a bright Saturday morning. It was such a nice day out that it should have been a crime to stay inside.

 

I was playing video games.

 

I was about to destroy the final boss that I stayed up all last night trying to destroy.  His name was the arch demon. He was the hardest boss I have ever played. Of course my mother had to come upstairs and kick me off the ps3. “Go play outside! It’s a beautiful day out.”

 

So I went outside and it was an awesome day.

 

I was eight so anything could amaze me at the time. I could run after my dog for hours on end and could not have a care in the world. The best part is when you hear a noise and it becomes an adventure, it makes you feel like the coolest kid in the world, because you thought of it. You were the first one to come up with an idea on how to cure cancer, or when me and my dog found a portal to an alternative universe, were everyone and everything looks like a Disney adventure. It is a great feeling to exercise your imagination, but now Facebook and other social apps and video games and texting and television come along were it doesn’t require you to use your head, or you could say it doesn’t allow you to use your head. As you sit their becoming more stupid by the minute while balancing between talking to your friend and playing Farmville at the same time, many people do not realize they could be doing something productive, like helping your dad with cars, or helping your mom with the cooking and reminding you need to add eggs to a cake, and other things so a cake doesn’t end up looking like a pancake.

 

But I digress; let me get back to the story.

 

As me and Lacey, my Border Collie/ Jack Russell, were sprinting down the hill, grass stains on my knees, and dirt on her fur, we stumbled by a field of oats, and we decided to re-enact an entire war and pretend the taller oats were enemies, and we were out of ammo, so we had to use a knife. As we snuck through the oats, we began to notice that there may be more enemies than I first thought. The oats were rustling and all of a sudden a flock of birds took off. “Bombers!” I screamed, as I ran for cover, but Lacey had a different idea. She looked like a cougar jumping through the air, and caught a bird in her jaws, and she closed them in a death grip around the bird’s neck. I was not expecting that, and I didn’t know what to think of it. Should I be upset? Should I be happy because Lacey killed a bomber? I was really confused by what lacey felt after killing the bird. Did she feel sad? Or happy? I know dogs can sense feelings, but do they have any of their own? I could not answer that.

 

 

The next day I took the shoe box for my dress shoes, a shovel, and my iPod to where the bird died. I told Lacey to sit and watch, and thankfully she did. I began to dig a hole for the dead bird.

After I scooped it up, put a flower on its chest, and played “Sweet Home Alabama” on my iPod while I buried it.

My Earliest Memory

My earliest memory was pretending to be something else, imagining that I was a knight. This was at are old house back in Queen Charlotte Islands, when I was around 3 or 5. I use to believe I was seven feet tall, longsword in scabbard and bow and shield on my back. To be specific I always use to think I was a Templar knight (I use to think the bucket helmets and the tabards were so cool). I could be either running through enchanted forests punting gnomes (they were actually soccer balls) or sailing across the ocean in a mighty warship that was 1000ft tall with 10000 cannons (this was me on a floaty in the ocean) or riding a mighty horse into battle.
I probably looked like a kid having a seizure in the backyard to my neighbors, “That’s one freaky kid.” They would probably say.

I think the most dangerous memory of being a knight was when I made and fired my bow for the first time.
It was quite interesting building it for the first time. I had to go all MacGyver and use household objects and a stick to make a working bow that fired sharpened sticks. First I had to find the actual bow handle. That was probably the tricky part. We lived right in front of a forest area, but trying to find a stick that could flex enough to fire but not break when I did proved a more difficult task than it seemed. As I was scouring the forest for a stick I began to feel lost and frightened from all the shadows, but then I imagined I had another knight watching my back and I didn’t feel so scared. Nothing beat monsters back like a guy with a spiked war hammer. When I finally found a stick, I made a run for the backyard when all of a sudden I heard a growl. It was the most ferocious thing I have ever heard in my small life. I stifled a scream and ran a hell of a lot faster than before (I later found out it was just my uncle trying to scare me, he succeeded.).
When I finally jumped the fence and made it back to the backyard, I learned I needed two more important things for a bow, a bowstring and ductape for grip.

After that, the best thing I could find was a shoelace and red sticky tape used for holding down cloth. That would have to do. As I was attaching the shoestring I heard a rustle in the woods, and I saw the glint of steel. I felt like I got kicked in the face by my warhorse. I began to work super quick, tying the string off and began to wrap the ductape around my stick.

When I went up to my dad to make sure I made the bowstring tight enough, he gave me a present. “Here Triston, I made you some arrows out of pieces of wood, but they aren’t sharp on the end so you don’t hurt yourself.” He said as he handed me my ammo. “Why don’t you go practice in the back yard, away from anything slanted.”

As I began to get better with my toy, I began to take it with me on trips into the woods. It was a lot less scary when I had a weapon in my hand. As I wandered the woods, I began to feel lonely and sad; I was all alone in the woods with a shoelace bow and flat arrows in my hand. Then I began to get angry. I whipped the bow off my back, put the string in the arrow notch, and fired at a tree.

It was probably one of the scariest moments in my life.
As the arrow went whizzing off trees and rocks, I hit the ground and began to crawl behind a rock. “This probably topped my uncle scaring me with growls” I thought to myself sarcastically. Then it happened, the arrow landed right in front of my face.
I let out a scream that was similar to SpongeBob drowning (if that’s possible) and grabbed the arrow and ran as fast I could towards my house.

That’s how I learned Physics.

Taking Blood

Jan.29
As I was entering the blood donation building, I could already feel the dread washing over me like I just dived in to the ocean… in January. When my dad and I went inside building, the scent was so strong; it was like I could taste the cheap pharmaceuticals of Canada and the anti-septic they wiped the injection spot with. All in all it smelled like an old folk’s home, and it was not pleasant. As we walked up to the assistant for my blood test, my eyes laid sight on it. The amazing 50 inch TV with about a dozen games to play. I could only describe it as a sanctuary in hell, or an oasis in a dry desert. Then of course the nurse cuts me ahead of EVERYONE in line and before I could even comprehend what happened, my arm was already tied with something that looked like a balloon and the pressure is filling in my arm like an overstuffed animal. She might as well have strapped me in a torture chair and starting spinning a pizza cutter.

I think the moment where I became truly nervous was when the assistant told me the doctor had stepped out and she would be taking the blood. I was already nervous enough with a professional doing it, now I’m just sweating. As she wiped the spot down with anti-septic, she began to look almost as nervous as I was. That did NOT inspire the most confidence. Finally she was able to take the little protection cap off the needle and began counting down from 3. “This won’t hurt a bit, I promise. One, Two, THREE.” The needle slid in my arm and I instantly felt cold and warm at the same time. It wasn’t actually that painful until the look of worry swept across her face. “I’m not getting any blood from this spot in the vein; I’m going to have to try a new spot.”

Well, that went on for a good five minutes, she made my arm look like a pointillism drawing before she had enough blood to fill a vial. “Well that didn’t go exactly as planned” she said apologetically. Thank you Sherlock, I thought to myself as I said thank you and hurriedly left the room. As I walked by the front desk I saw a bowl of chapstick. “Might as well get something out of this” and took one as me and my dad quickly left the building and jumped in the truck and headed back to school.