The Opening of the Mind

A prologue to preposterousness.

And there I was, an insignificant nugget amongst the Crispy Chicken Sandwiches of the world. And not the dollar menu ones, either; the ones which were $3.47. The ones that were a waste of money unless you got them with the entire meal. I didn't know where I was going with this analogy, but it was true. And I sure put the anal in that analogy.

I peered out into the sea through rose colored shades... sort of like Bono's. But likely less expensive. The man at the gas station said they looked great when I tried them on, and I gleefully handed over my crisp five dollar bill along with four ones as I ripped the tag off and trotted out of the store. I'm pretty sure he muttered something as I left, but I hadn't really caught it. It sounded a bit like "sucker", and I wasn't sure if he was referring to what my best friend did on street corners at night or the lollipop I had slipped into my pocket when he wasn't looking. Who was the sucker now? It sure wasn't me.

Right, the sea.

It was green today. Not like the blue sea portrayed in just about everything... I wasn't sure if that sea actually did exist. The only ocean I had ever witnessed was green, and it wasn't like any other green I'd ever seen. I'd seen plenty of greens: booger green, grass green, salad green, the beautiful girl at the camera store's eyes green, Xbox green, the green on my pencil, the green of my best friend's college sweatshirt, poop green, and "I just threw up my mom's vegetable soup all over the bathroom" green.

The latter was the most horrifying green I'd ever seen, to be perfectly honest. What had been a scrumptious dinner later turned to tragedy as I awoke in the midst of the night, feeling the pressure that one feels underneath their chin right before they let loose a myriad of half-digested treats which my dog would later eat before I could clean it up. I rolled out of bed, instinctually reaching for my nunchaku in case there was a robber in the house. I had trained under Master Sen-Fu for seven years now, and he had taught me over ten thousand uses for nunchaku. I could disarm a man holding any weapon, and swiftly fell him before he knew what was coming. Master Sen-Fu was the greatest nunchaku master in my town, and he was pretty much the only man who could defeat me in a battle of nunchaku.

Unlike my mastery in nunchaku, my mastery in not throwing up certain foods was not a talent I could really brag about. Well, I could brag about it to the girl next door. I think she was annorexic, or bulemic. I never could tell the difference between the two. They should have a third contender that starts with C, and then I'd write a novel called "The ABCs of Throwing Up" by Doctor Dubble Bubble. That would be my pen name. Hopefully it would make the Times' list of best sellers, and I'd get some sort of endorsement. I could sell shirts to my fans, and then get sued by some mom who thought my book made her daughter throw up. It would be a tragedy, just like when I threw up the soup.

The soup. Of course.

Anyway, I finally made it to the bathroom with minimum casualties. There was no robber in my house, but there was a mouse in my house. And by mouse in my house, I mean I had morning wood, except it was 3 AM. So it was three hours ante meridiem wood. It would have been embarassing to have to defeat a robber in that state, so I quickly reqlinquished myself of the possibility. With my nunchaku. Don't ask how, but I did it without skipping a beat. I finally found the door and kicked it open with all my might, and before I could lift the seat, all hell broke loose.

I won't go into detail, but it was the "I just threw up my mom's vegetable soup all over the bathroom" greenest "I just threw up my mom's vegetable soup all over the bathroom" green vegetable soup my mom had made that I had ever thrown up in my life.

The sea. I'd almost forgotten.

But wait, that's when they attacked.

Luckily I bring my nunchaku to the beach.

And the thunder broke the clouds, and the rain shattered down upon the sand.

Author's Note

Written via stream of consciousness

Reviews

[Smackey]

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S.O.C. is pretty tricky because some people don't understand how to use it and just rant, but the way you do it is very entertaining - has it's sudden turns, and an originality that keeps it fresh. By interweaving it with your outside storyline, it's like Super-First-Person.
Made me crack up: ABCs of Throwing Up by Doctor Dubble Bubble, the list of 'green's, sunglasses like Bono's

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Way to spell anorexic and bulimic and meridian and relinquish wrong. It's a good thing that that's the only thing I really have to complain about so far. So I'm taking a full f*****g point off. Dipshit.

I like the tangents you go off on, but just be careful in later chapters to balance it out with outside action. If every chapter happens to have this same ratio of thoughts:action, it won't stay as interesting as it is now.