Monday, March 29, 2010

Story #58 - Punched A Plate Glass Window

Good evening to you! I hope you are doing this well. This week may or may not be the start of a new thing! We shall see! But yeah, uh, Thursday might be a good day to check back with this blog.

By the way, you should be reading Newt Gingrich In Space. Just saying.

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Punched A Plate Glass Window
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 this on TV once. A guy got really upset about something, and during a musical montage, he punched his fist through a window. It seemed cool. The guy had a cut on his hand, yeah, but in general he was okay - except of course for the crippling psychological damage.

So I thought, why can't I do it? The first thing I did was carefully pour a glass of whiskey, then drink the rest of the bottle. (The glass was for later.) Then I faced my opponent. It was a solid pane, and it was very clear. "Okay," I said. "Let's do this."

Well, that guy on TV must have had some arm strength (or cutaway glass) because the window just would not break. I punched it as hard as I could, but all I got was a hand that hurt. So I tried to get myself really angry. I figured that if I had to take crippling psychological damage to do this, then so be it. I thought of every fucked up thing that had happened - not just to me, but to everyone at any time. I got angry at people I loved. I imagined that there was nothing I could do, not ever, not for any time.

It worked. The glass shattered into tiny pieces.. My hand got all bloodied and dark. It was brilliant. And I immediately felt better.

Then I lost my balance. Here's a tip: don't try this on the eighth floor of an eight-story building.

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Monday, March 22, 2010

Story #57 - Flipped Over A Table

Hi everyone, hope you are having a good time. Here is a story about something!

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Flipped Over A Table
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 was having some tea at my place when I decided to flip over the table I was sitting at, newspaper, mug and all. It was not difficult. The mug crashed, and the table just kind of stood there on its side. It was fun. I decided to do it somewhere else.

I went to a restaurant. I ordered some fried eggs and a coffee. The server was nice. When I got my food, I immediately turned over the table. Everything landed on the floor, including a mess of napkins and some salt and pepper packets. The server reached down, took a knife off the ground, and stabbed me with it. Fortunately, it was not a major wound.

Next I went to a bar. There were a bunch of people at the same table as me, all my friends. We were having our drinks. I moved to flip the table, but it turned out it was bolted to the ground. This was a problem. Luckily, I had brought bolt cutters. "Excuse me," I said to everyone, and crouched under the table and got to work. This time I was able to flip the table just by standing up.

You read and you see videos and you think that flipping a table is cool. But they never show you the aftermath. The glaring eyes, the anger. The mess on the floor. They never, in short, say what to do next. So I just kind of stood there for a minute, and then ran away. A number of people ran after me.

So far I have flipped over 73 tables, not including ones I own that I put back up and then flipped over again. And as of this writing I have only been knocked unconscious three times.

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Monday, March 15, 2010

Story #56 - Chased Cars

Greetings! I hope you enjoy this story. Please take care of yourself. Happy Let's All Kill Julius Caesar Day!

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Chased Cars
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.

My dog does this thing where, when a car goes by, he chases after it. So I thought, why can't i do the same thing? I stayed outside my house and waited. A car passed by. I ran after it. The car went even faster. I caught up with it. It was at a stop sign. Then the car door opened, and a man came out with an ice scraper. "Stay the fuck away," he said. "Stay the fuck away from me."

One bandage later, I went downtown and tried to chase cars there. Only, because of the traffic lights and the horrible gridlock, it was way too easy. I walked in between the lanes, banging my hand on the backs of cars. Only a couple of people pulled out their guns. Mostly they just wanted to know why I was hurting them. They were very protective.

I realized my problem - the cars were too slow for me. I needed to go somewhere they were fast. So I headed out to the freeway. It was amazing! It wasn't rush hour, so there were cars there going at like 80 mph. A few passed me by, and I ran after them. This time they were too fast. Even in the slower lanes, I couldn't keep up. But still, the chase. I ran after them until I got tired. I felt so good.

Then, well, you can guess what happened. The first pileup, the one with two cars, I'll admit that was probably my fault. But 18 cars later? Man, people need to be more attentive on the road.

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Monday, March 8, 2010

Story #55 - Ingested Chalk

Here is a story this week! Please enjoy! I am thinking of doing a "call for submissions" pretty soon, as the point of this website is to find different people's take on what it means to live in the land of bad decisions. But here is one for today!

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Ingested Chalk
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.

It was after class, and I was staring at the blackboard, and I knew it would taste awful but I really wanted to see what happened if I ingested some of the chalk that was there. So I took a really small piece and ate it. It did taste awful, yes, but eventually went down with no complaint. And then nothing happened. I didn't feel sick or anything. So I left the room.

The next day, when I woke up in my bed, I noticed that there was some kind of faint dusting around me. I didn't know what that was about. I went through the day as normal, until class was over again. I went to the board and put my finger on it. A white dot appeared. I traced my name on the board with my finger, and it appeared whatever I did. So I grabbed more chalk and ate all of it there, taste be damned.

The next day the bed was covered in dust, and there was sort of a haze around my eyes, but I didn't care. Whatever I touched, not just the blackboard, now would have these white dots on it. I went around touching the foreheads of the people I didn't like. Or I would leave chalk marks on the lockers, water fountains, and the like. After school I would just get as much chalk as possible. When I walked home I left chalk footprints on the sidewalk. My room was a mess.

Eventually I found that I could break off my own finger and use it as chalk if I wanted to. I could even put it back on again, if I wanted, but mostly I just kept it in my pocket for convenience. And I found my own skin turning whiter, blindingly so, photoshop-fill so. I eventually found I could turn things that weren't chalk into chalk, which was good because I no longer had the taste for food.

And then some of the things I turned to chalk grew arms and legs, and started to walk around, and then they grew heads with eyes and mouths. They could turn things into chalk, too. And they could eat. So eventually we all went to the school and filled out everywhere, until the whole building had turned to chalk. And we broke the school up into little human-sized pieces, waiting for the transformation.

We haven't decided yet where to go next.

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Monday, March 1, 2010

Story #54 - Burned House Down

Please enjoy this new story! I hope you find it at least somewhat satisfying.

Happy March, everyone

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Burned House Down
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 decided I would burn my own house down, just for fun. I got all the stuff I wanted out first, and made sure everything was safe, that no one else was in there, and that nothing near it would get hurt. But, man, I torched my house up like a motherfucker.

It was brilliant. My house became a beacon that could be seen from miles away. I bet ships even used it to guide themselves. The fire destroyed everything that had once been mine. Some people came by to watch it burn. The house became a fireball, and shot straight upward. It was beautiful. I knew that I had made a clean break. I could start again.

I mean, of course, in theory. Then it turned out that I was now homeless, and that hey, you can't actually get insurance money if you burn it yourself, and also did you know that arson is a crime even if no one minds? But, hey, there's always new to learn. At least I did it. I'll always have that to carry with me.

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