Chili Fries

I have no idea where this one came from, other than the fact that I was sitting in the Smokehouse (which is the restaurant) and actually had just about this entire experience. Having just flipped through some of The Sound and the Fury in a vain attempt to study for my midterm, it inspired this little foray into things.

For the most part, this story is as true as anything else I write.

Chili Fries

It occurs to him that he is hungry, so he turns around and heads for a crosswalk. He could jaywalk but it doesn’t occur to him to go back for food until he’s already passed the restaurant so he walks in a circle. Maybe someone saw him and thought it was a silly thing to do but he’d just tell them that he was being a law-abiding citizen.

The restaurant’s empty except for the cook in the kitchen so he puts his bag down in a seat and waits until the owner gets back, then orders his food and a drink and sits down. Some song that he’s never heard of but sounds like a remix of Stayin’ Alive comes through the speakers and he frowns in annoyance because really did someone need to make a bad song worse by rapping over it?

Oxford intrudes upon his thoughts (not for the first time) and he remembers going to the little diner for breakfast all by himself in the mornings when he woke up feeling like death because of the night before and the Greek behind the counter would yell at his wife and she’d yell back and the food was greasy and life-giving. Then he thinks about the woman in the café that sat across from him and he thought he knew her, he did, so he’d asked “Do I know you?”

She seemed surprised to be spoken to beyond a request for the salt but she gave the question some thought and replied. “I don’t think so.”

“You look dreadfully familiar.” He says by way of apology and wonders if maybe it’s the glasses or the hair that did it but she looks like someone he’s written before and that confuses him terribly.

A group of high schoolers spills into the restaurant and one of them asks if they can sit in the seat where he put his bag. He shrugs and starts to move the bag but the girl suddenly seems shocked at her own boldness and withdraws. “In a New York Mood” drifts over through the speakers and he wonders if he’s ever been in a New York mood beyond his sister’s wedding before he went to college and they played “New York, New York” and he was drunk and the family formed a kickline and danced around.

“Where are you from?” he asks and wonders whether or not it’s just the hangover that’s making him this outgoing.

He doesn’t remember what she said but he remembers that it was a region to the north of them. “I’ve been here for the last five years.” She says with a grin. “Found a job out of school.”

He’s surprised because she doesn’t look that old to him but he nods sagely. “Well then we couldn’t have met before, because I only just got here a few months ago. I’m from the States.” He’s always liked the phrase “the States” because it’s so short and easy to say plus it doesn’t imply that they all agree (and he knows they don’t).

His gaze flicks up to the television and there’s a man setting himself on fire, but he’s wearing a fireproof suit so it’s okay. Jeff Gordon advertises Jeff Gordon’s racing career and he catches a comment from one of the highschoolers about needing a dollar in quarters and for a second his hand goes to his pocket but he has no change so he goes back to eating and watching the man set himself on fire.

A boy comes in and all the girls raise a ruckus over him because somebody said he liked somebody else and he denies it. In that moment it’s obvious that he likes the girl who’s teasing him the most but she’s completely oblivious to the boy’s awkward advances and he wants to give the boy a reassuring pat and tell him that it’s okay, she’s probably a bitch anyway but he doesn’t because that would be rude.

“Perhaps time travel’s involved.” She says, winking at him. He blinks, confused (that was supposed to be his line, wasn’t it?) for a moment but then he smiles a broad grin and admits that it’s a possibility.

“You haven’t time traveled, have you?” He asks idly, secretly hoping that she’ll nod and they’ll have an adventure.

“I’m afraid not,” she admits, and then he realizes that he finished his bacon and eggs and tea and really he should stop wasting her time but then she says “have you?” and he’s got to stick around just for a little while longer, just to answer her.

His fries are gone, and the highschoolers are all trying to pay for their food, rooting around in purses and pockets for spare change while a nondescript pop-rock song plays and he grabs another drink and waits and waits and waits. There’s another man in there with him and he can almost feel the man’s hatred of these children in his way, in his restaurant and the urge to tell the man that he really needs to relax and take life as it comes seizes him but what does he know anyway? It’s not worth offending anyone over.

The girl who asked if she could sit at his seat shies away from him as he approaches the counter to pay and he’s confused, because he’s never thought himself to be particularly menacing but he seems to come off that way despite his best efforts. He wonders if everyone’s always going to shy away from him but he knows that’s not true because the girl in the café hadn’t.

He’s not sure how long it’s been since he came in but his watch is back in the States to be repaired and he’s forgotten to wear the replacement he bought—but the wall clock tells him he’s got to get moving only he doesn’t want to, because he’s got something here and the worst thing that could happen would be for it to stop too soon.

But of course he gets up and makes a bow to her, saying that it was nice meeting her. “We should do this again sometime,” he jokes, and as he’s turning to leave he hears her say “Yes, we really should” and the world seems a little brighter as he steps out into the crisp winter air and heads to the college, feeling a slight pang of regret that he’d never found out her name nor told her his own—but maybe they’d run into one another again sometime soon (but they didn’t, he recalls—and maybe that was a good thing, because after a moment like that it’s really hard to top it).

The man takes his money (the smallness of the bills still seems odd to him, he’d gotten used to the almighty pound) and gives change back, and the highschoolers are gone and now he’s gone too, out the door and halfway down the street, thinking about Oxford.

The (Real) end of Troilus and Criseyde

This was (honest!) an answer I gave for the final exam of my freshman year Chaucer class.

I don't remember what the question was, but obviously that's not important.

Troilus and Criseyde: The Lost Chapter

Author’s Note: While researching the Chaucerian work Troilus and Criseyde, I was astounded to stumble across the account of the events of the work as told by the Roman historian Lollius. To my delight, there was an epilogue to the work which Chaucer left out of his story, and it is with great pride I present to you the final chapter of Troilus and Criseyde, as translated by me. Sadly my skills as a poet are lacking, therefore I have been forced to revert to prose, though I have done my best to capture the original intent of the author.

There are a variety of ways to end a story, and with one so tragic as the tale of Troilus and Criseyde, the author has decided to end with a brief rendition of an encounter that took place shortly after Troilus’ death. It begins, oddly enough, with a simple enough setup, more common than even “Once upon a time”:

Stop me if you’ve heard this one before. Three Trojans and a Greek walk into a bar. The Greek was, of course Diomede, who had decided to stop in for a post-battle drink. With him was the fair Criseyde, who was good-looking as long as the lighting was dim. The second Trojan was Pandarus, who had snuck out of Troy in order to see his niece again and invite her to Neverland Ranch, to use a colloquialism. The third Trojan was the recently reanimated corpse of Troilus, who had staggered away from the field of battle a few hours after being slain by Achilles and wanted among other things brains and a strong drink to cleanse the palette afterwards.

Criseyde was surprised to see Pandarus in the bar, and substantially more amazed to see her former lover shamble into the bar as well. There was a rather awkward silence, broken by a nervous cough from Diomede. He knew full well who Troilus was, and had heard that Troilus was determined to kill him, and he figured the victory dance around Troilus’ fallen corpse earlier in the day wasn’t earning him any points either.

“So,” Diomede said, swallowing hard and doing his best not to run away screaming, “What brings you two to our humble abode?”

“Well,” Pandarus answered, secretly glad that someone had broken the silence, “I’m just here to see my beloved niece. I got special permission from king Priam himself to come out here and visit!”

“Mrauugh.” Troilus said, which meant something along the lines of, “I’m dead and have nothing better to do. I daresay I should not be allowed back within the walls of Troy, they would doubtless think me a cruel joke. Also, I hunger for brains, perhaps the ones inside your tiny skulls. They are like fleshy acorns to me.”

“Fascinating.” Diomede said, for lack of anything better to say.

“Troilus, my love, are you alright? I never really loved Diomede anyway, I’m so happy to see you again my heart’s sweetness!” Criseyde had finally regained the power to speak acted immediately to attempt to placate the undead being standing in front of her. Diomede looked hurt for all of a few seconds, then shrugged it off.

Well, that didn’t last long. Oh well, it’s not like there won’t be plenty of ladies waiting for me on my return to Greece once this war’s over. Diomede thought to himself, it’s not like I have any real obligations to Criseyde anyway. That’s just what you have to say to get a woman in this damn country. Hah! Courtly love. What a quaint concept.

“Mrauugh.” Troilus replied to Criseyde’s comment, which meant something along the lines of “Ha! Like I’m going to buy that line. I swore unending devotion to you, agreed to keep your honor safe no matter what, and here you jump ship as soon as I show back up? Love’s about being willing to die for one another, not wearing it like a hat and taking it off when it gets too hot. We had a great traditional love, and I was ready to sacrifice everything! Additionally, could you move out of the light? The joined eyebrow thing is starting to creep me out. Oh, and I could really go for some brains.”

Pandarus nodded emphatically. “Troilus is absolutely right! You should run away with him! It would be really, really cool, I promise. I’ve got a secret hideaway where you could go, and it would be just fantastic to see you kids getting along again, especially after how long it took me to—that is, after all you two have been through.” Pandarus didn’t feel too inclined to rekindle the former romance, but he figured the best way to get out of the bar with his brains intact was to try picking back up the game where he left off. The whole concept of this courtly love was something of a novelty to Pandarus; it provided a great way to manipulate people. Dance, puppets! Dance!

“Mrauuugh.” Troilus responded, which meant something along the lines of “Actually Pandarus, I think it would be rather silly to try picking up with Criseyde where I left off. Firstly, I’m dead now, which would make intercourse a disaster. Secondly, I’m pretty sure she and I weren’t on the same page when it came to courtly love anyway. The relationship was pretty much doomed. Oh, did I mention I seem to be able to read minds? I think it’s a side effect of wanting to eat your delicious brains.”

The author will not go any further with the events of that fateful meeting. Suffice it to say that Troilus shambled out of the bar a few hours later wiping his mouth and carrying a drink with him to cleanse his palette.

Stuff We've Seen Before

Okay, so maybe this isn't the greatest thing to start with, but I'd like to put up some of the old before I go making the new. So here's the deal, kiddies: this evening, you get the story that is about as pretentious as I can get.

Later, we'll have less pretentious stuff. I intend to sort these by levels of pretentiousness (also stuff like the Mountain Lightning series will all be sorted that way as well)--a level which will be completely arbitrary and, for the most part, completely useless to you. More experimental stuff will have a higher pretension level than something more traditional.

I posted this a while back somewhere else, but I'm irrationally fond of it, so I'm making it the first non-announcement thing to be posted.

The Secret is In this Story

Aaron Poppleton

There's a secret to not dying did you know? Nobody can do it because of the trick involved but that's okay we aren't supposed to know the secret anyway. Look closely because otherwise you won't know the secret and then you won't even be able to try it will you—that would be completely worthless to both of us, and if there's one thing I hate. It's wasting time.

There was a man you see. He thought to himself that I do not want to die. So he made a decision, which is what you do. When you come to a conclusion, you decide whether or not you're going to do something about it. He wanted to do something about it. The dying thing. He didn't like the idea. So he went looking for the secret (which you don't know yet but you might later on).

Devil was useless, perhaps due to his nonexistence. But that might not have been a problem. Maybe it was, though. Either way it didn't help the man at all. He wasted his time, the silly thing. With looking to Devils. Probably it was a silly idea anyway. The man went on, because that's what you do. On quests. For immortality (which is what the secret deals with, you know. Of course you do (no secret yet)).

Books are a good start he thought. Perhaps he should have started with them but he didn't. Which was silly, but he knew that now. The library didn't have anything under 'immortality.' Frustrating but creativity is important. The man knew creativity somewhat he supposed that it was a good place to start. Even though it wasn't where he started (planning would have helped him out more I think). Libraries have the secret but they don't tell you that.

There was nothing for it. A lack of immortality section in the library made it necessary to reeval56h666666g

'yBV “? First he had to feed the cat (cats know but they don't want to tell you. They also don't use it, because they don't mind). Then reevaluate his plan. Fiction seemed a good jumping off point. Secrets usually hide in fiction when they don't want you to know them.

So he read a lot of books (maybe too many but you can never read too many).

The secret was in front of him but he didn't know what it was yet. He didn't know because he was looking to hard.

The secret is to not look hard because otherwise you won't find it.

He didn't know but any fiction has the secret (and you know more than him now). Have you found it yet? No, it eludes me still. I guess you'll die like the rest of us then.

Nobody's pulled it off but maybe that's not true.

Fine he said I'll just refuse to die. This is pretty effective but it doesn't get you as far. He's still refusing but he won't last forever because that's not the secret.

He's still looking but there's too much thought to it. Simplify.

Earlier we said all books have the secret but that's only half true because some books are better than others. But nobody's pulled it off because time is a long time and we can't tell yet. Maybe someone will go to forever and verify but nobody has yet and that is too bad because here's the secret.

The secret is breathe slowly pick up a book (old books are best because they show the secret more) look at the book. Reading is optional (but recommended).

Do you have the secret? You don't even really need a book this will do.

Even though its short it still has the secret.

Look carefully but not too carefully because it's obvious and obvious things aren't obvious anymore when you look too hard.

A balancing act to be sure but if you find the secret you could try it too.

Now here's the big surprise (because there has to be a twist to the story or people won't think it's good and the secret won't get out) are you ready for it?

You don't need a book either. The secret is in other things but I won't list them because there's a lot of things and then the story would be too long and drag and you might miss the secret.

Less than eight-hundred words have the secret find it if you want.