Monday, December 28, 2009

Story #46 - Virginia

Please remember, this story is a work of fiction and does not reflect my actual views. That being said, Maryland is the best state.

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Virginia
by Dan Schwartz

I wanted to live in the land of bad decisions. In order to live in the land of bad decisions, you have to make some bad decisions.

For years I thought Virginia was the land of bad decisions. I couldn't see any other reason why anyone would live there. It was the worst of the south combined with the worst of the north. It had nothing to offer to anyone. So I went.

At first, it wasn't so bad - I was disappointed in new and innovative ways. But soon I was surrounded, the horrible masses crowding around like zombies. The soulless, dead eyes of defense contractors and yuppies and hicks. I had forgotten one of the most important rules: the only thing worse than Virginia is Virginians.

The state of Virginia is not the land of bad decisions. You can make bad decisions there, as you can anywhere. But Virginia does not forgive or forget. It makes you want to not make any decision, not a good one, not a bad one, not now, not ever again.

Next stop: West Virginia.

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Monday, December 21, 2009

Story #45 - Hiking A Mountain

Hi everyone,

Here is a new story for you, it may or may not be based on true events.

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Hiking a Mountain
by Dan Schwartz

I wanted to live in the land of bad decisions. In order to live in the land of bad decisions, you have to make some bad decisions.

I went up to hike a mountain, and I tried to do it in the exact wrong way possible.

First thing, I didn't tell anyone where I was going. I figured, who needs to know? I'll just go up and come back down. It doesn't have to be a thing. It turns out this is something you are not supposed to do, ever.

Then, I made sure I only brought with me two granola bars, as it was all I had and I was confident that I did not need anything else for sustenance. I certainly didn't bring any water.

I wore mostly the wrong clothing. I didn't even know what to wear for a mountain hike, so I put on some boots and whatever else I had on. I was ready.

I made sure I was confused about distances, so I didn't know how long the hike would last and where it would lead. I also tried my best to avoid maps, which is harder then it sounds.

I started my hike. I took the paths that were difficult, the ones that led up. About an hour or so into it, when I was getting tired, I met a bear. It looked up at me. I waved and said hello. It did not like this.

Luckily for me a passing couple took pity on me and carted my decaying flesh down the mountain, but man, let me tell you. Try not to meet a bear.

***

Monday, December 14, 2009

Story #44 - Punched A Mailman

Hi everyone! LOBD is now back from its self-imposed hiatus! If I make a post in 2009, then it can only be considered a year long. LOBD will now post on Monday nights/Tuesday mornings. Let's pick up where we left off.

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Punched a Mailman
by Dan Schwartz

I wanted to live in the land of bad decisions. In order to live in the land of bad decisions, you have to make some bad decisions.

I saw my mailman come up to my front door to deliver the mail. "Hi Fred," I said. Then I punched him in the face. I punched him other places as well, but the face was the most satisfying.

The next day I didn't see Fred, but it was Sunday, so it was understandable.

On Monday my mailbox was overflowing with mail, and most of it was profane to man and god. A lot of it was just junk - coupons and unwanted mail and the like. I saw a few envelopes that had drawings of penises on them, and others that were addressed to "Fuck You I Hate You." I also got tons of spam - someone had printed out their spam e-mail and mailed them to me.

On Tuesday, I was targeted by a direct mail company that had my address somehow. Now I get special offers for everything. And they know everything about me - what I like, what my habits are, mostly from magazine subscriptions (which don't come anymore).

And on it went. At Christmastime I didn't get any cards, despite relatives who say that they sent them. They withheld all mail on my birthday - my box was empty. And I never receive mail with my name on it anymore - always "Occupant" or "Resident" or "Spineless Douchebag."

I could complain - and I did, loudly - but in the end I am happy with my decision. I keep every piece of mail that comes my way. My place is overflowing with letters. I am thinking of making an archive and an index.

***