Another one, yo

"Injuns."

A ragged voice whispered under his breath. His face was sweating and greasy. Nothing in the world could tear his gaze away from the sight he was beholding.

"Them dirty injuns. Thinkin' they can outsmart me... I'm gon' show them rascals."

The man stroked his gun. It was a beautiful .45 Colt Peacemaker and virtually his only source of joy. He stroked it like a lover, gentle yet firm. He held it close to him like he was a child, helpless if it weren't for his parent. Most of all though, he was loading it like a gun, ready for the kill.

"I'm gon' show them what for. They can't fool me. I'm educated. They can't fool an American," he assured himself as he spotted a small grey rabbit in the corner of his eye. He shooed it away quickly.

He was hidden behind a conveniently placed tree. Its trunk was large enough to hide even two grown men. He was thinking it was an oak but in all honesty he wouldn't be able to tell a palm tree from pine tree. He was a red-blooded American through and through. That was his main problem.

The wasteland of a plain was filled with a stagnant air. Tumbleweeds were always a household myth, but he could make out a few in the distance. He could see the reason he was in hiding in the first place - An Indian, a heathen treading upon this holy land. He raised his revolver to his mouth and kissed its shining barrel. God was on his side and he knew it.

The Indian was standing near a cleverly made solitary wigwam and brushing a beautiful chestnut toned horse. The man knew that it was a fine breed and could probably outrun a train. He'll have it off the dirty heathen. Indians didn't deserve such a beautiful creature. That was a wonderful plan, he thought. The time to act was now.

He aimed his revolver with a steady hand and shot. A deafening crack rang out and as did a scream. The bullet hit the Indian's shoulder and he was writhing with pain on the dusty ground.

"Dirty Redskin! That'll learn ya to mess with Buckin' Billy Jean!" said the man in triumph. He was running towards the downed Indian ready for the kill. He aimed his gun again but at point black range. He slowly put it down after a moment's hesitation.

"I'm better 'n you. I won't kill ya and dirty my bullets." Buckin' Billy Jean thought this was a rather noble line as he mounted his new found horse. "I'm a good soul and may God in heav'n have mercy on yer soul."

He took off and galloped towards the sunset. Unfortunately, his heroism was short lived as nearly a dozen Indians rounded him off on both flanks.

"Dirty cheats." He whispered to himself as he looked towards the left and hit a rock on his right. He tumbled into a state of half-consciousness.

Indians on all sides. This wasn't good for him at all, he thought. An Indian stabbed him. He nearly lost consciousness. Billy Jean's breath was heavy with fatigue. He started to lose focus and could only make out blobs of color. The red was closing in on him as the blue was being blotted out. A dull grey dotted the red at uneven intervals.

"YA DIRTY REDSKINS WILL NEVER BREAK OLE BUCKIN' BILLY JEAN!" screamed the cowboy as he slowly passed out.

Actually I don't really like how this turned out. I liked it up until I had to go back to the story after talking about Billy Jean's problems. After that, I just kind of muddled myself into an end. I ll need to clean this up somehow to be somewhat decent.

I just got the idea to try and fix this up somehow by trying to seperate the real from the delusional as will be seen in the next post. I think it was a stroke of pure genius. And I personally think it gives me the freedom to add a bit more detail here and there without worrying about space constraints.

Something Literate.

Reboot Started. Loading preferences.

D-AN3Y was starting up.

Logic Circuits Enabled. Running At 82 Percent Power.

It was a very loud start up process despite it mainly involving software checks. Its noise was not unlike a lawnmower.

Start Up Successful. Have A Wonderful Day.

D-AN3Y started to slowly move his joints. His eyes shone with a strange happiness. He tried to blink. He failed. He had just remembered that he was a robot and incapable of blinking. And having a gender, though this did not hinder him of thinking of himself in a masculine way. He decided to flash his eye-shaped lights a bit. This made him feel a bit better.

He was unfamiliar to the room he was sitting in. He glanced around to see pure white walls topped off with a pure white ceiling. He had a sinking suspicion that if he took a look down, he'd see a pure white floor as well. He was not disappointed as he could see a porcelain floor, not a blemish in sight.

He started to get a feeling that if he took a step, the room would start to crack. This started to seem less important as soon as he realized that he was inside the room itself. There was no perceivable way to get inside. Or outside for that matter. Any crack that would hint at a doorway would be immediately noticeable.

He was starting to get extremely panicky. This didn't bode well with him. He started to think to himself.

"How in blazes did I get here? Just how long was I out?"

He then realized that he was thinking. He just hated when he realized that he was thinking. His logic circuits overloaded and he shut himself down.

Reboot Started. Loading Preferences.

D-AN3Y was starting up. Again.

Logic Circuits Enabled. Running At 74 Percent Power.

D-AN3Y's start up was noisy as ever. The room filled with noise again. Its echoing revs something it has grown used to.

Start Up Successful. Have A Wonderful Day.

D-AN3Y's started to move his creaking joints once again.

"It's such a horrible thing being an old model, eh?" He muttered to nobody in particular.

Something was strange. The room was different somehow. If he didn't focus enough, it was nearly impossible to notice. The pure whiteness of the room didn't seem to change. Yet it somehow did. Was it a shade more white? Was that even possible? He took a quick check in his mind. Or what a robot's mind is supposed to be.

He found nothing relevant.

"Bugger."

He was getting a tad frustrated. Something caught his eye. It was a flash of black. That was definitely noticeable in such a room. He turned around and eyed every corner of the room. No luck. The whiteness made the room seem like an infinite space.

He took another look around. Something was definitely wrong this time. For one, the room was no longer white. It was brown and made of wood.

And filled with livestock. Honest to goodness livestock. Tagged ears, cuds in mouth, sweaty tails flicking at flies.

Suddenly the livestock got agitated. Was it the sudden revving of D-AN3Y's head that got to them? Maybe the sudden appearance of a robot go them all shook up? Whatever the reason, they started a bovine riot.

They were aiming for him. They were out for blood. 3 seconds later D-AN3Y was hit by a severe electric shock.

"Oh bother. Not again." He muttered just before he shut down for the 10th time in a span of 30 minutes.

His start up sequences began for the 11th time in a room he has never been in, in a ship he has never ridden, in a galaxy he has never visited, and in a universe he never knew existed.

Yes, I know I'm just trying to emulate Douglas Adams. How unoriginal, you're thinking to yourself. Shove it. I'm just trying to find a way to be witty. Other things will be happening. So cram your criticism.

This is me thinking in hindsight that none of you, all two of you, will actually know who Douglas Adams is. You sicken me.

Yowza.

I'm currently watching a Bond movie. According to my dad, who is usually very good with this sort of thing, it's Moonraker. For the 20 minutes I've been watching it... Hot damn dang. There's been a guy with full metal teeth fighting Bond on a Gondola in Switzerland, Christian monks doing Judo, and explosions everywhere. Watching this just gets my blood pumping.

Enough of th- Oh shit shoot. Bond just jumped off a moving speedboat and started gliding over a waterfall. I'm sold. Bond is my new hero.

Enough of that. As much as I would like to comment on this awesome snake-Bond battle to the death, this should not be my intention. It gets harder and harder the more it passes.

My true intention of this post is to make this Blog stuff seem somewhat regular. And also to procrastinate on working on Government homework. That's mostly it. Can't get any truer than that. Just like saying my arms hurt. Like hell heck.

I played volleyball today, again to procrastinate. It makes my arms hurt yet I do it anyways. Lord knows why. Fun for sure but is the pain really worth it? Let me have a brief overview of pain. I've read somewhere that pain is the body's way of telling you to stop what you're doing or else you'll die. Some sort of sensor that tells you that you can feel or something.

Some neurotic I've read a bit about said that he doesn't enjoy using pain killers whenever he's had operations or breaking something or whatnot. His reasoning - if he doesn't feel he pain, it's as if he isn't feeling what he's supposed to be feeling and making him less human. Wowsers.

Actually, right now, I don't like the pain. It's a jerk. A big, arm-numbing jerk. It's making it hard to type. Seriously, I've had to edit this post about 2 times since posting. Pain, is a cool thing sometimes though. It makes man laugh. Tell me that you haven't. Wait. Just a minute. The Bond movie has this awesome space-laser battle scene right now.

Where was I? Hm. Pain, cool thing, laughter. Right. I lost my momentum. End post.

Now Playing: Sleep Now In The Fire - Rage Against The Machine. Much love to RATM. This is one of my favorite songs. I've been meaning to watch the video but never get around to it. I heard it was shot in Wall Street and by Michael Moore, director of documentaries such as Sicko, Fahrenheit 9/11, and Bowling for Columbine. I also heard that he was almost arrested while shooting it.

Wow. Bond just shot the Big Bad into an airlock and launched him into space. Wow.

Thought of the day: I wish fifth grade was more like Today in Class 5-2. What a disappointing childhood. Or lack thereof.

Maiden Post

Ho hum. Do you know me? I hope you do and if not, a pleasure to meet you. Or something. Whatever, you probably know me or you wouldn't even bother reading this. If you are by chance reading this despite that circumstance... I'm quite glad I'm not as bored as you.

This is apparently a blog. What possessed me to write this is actually just what I've been wondering for a little while. I've really just thought that this would be something good to kill time. I just love killing time. Though I'm guessing time would rather I stopped. Tough love.

On the note of killing time, I'm actually supposed to be making some presentation for Rizal which I'm obviously not doing. Isn't that dandy? I'd love to work on it but it kind of just makes me sleepy and distracted the more I need to work on it.

Back to the should-be-blog. I'm hoping that I'd be able to change things here and there to make things more pretty. Pretty things are nice. I probably won't since I'm easily distracted. Again, I point to that Rizal presentation. Oh yeah.

What the hell hey am I supposed to type here anyways? Thoughts on life? Day-to-day experiences? Who knows? I should but I don't which is kind of annoying. I'll start off nice and easy for now and keep it short.

Now Playing: Bakusou Yumeuta - Diggy-MO' - From the anime Soul Eater. The third ending. It's funky fresh and easily catchy. The anime itself is pretty good and you better look into it if possible - People turning into guns and scythes is damn awesome.

Thought of the day: It's hard to come up with these on the spot.