The Ugly Duckling

The Ugly Duckling
By: Exile

It was an early spring on most accounts as new life began to emerge onto the peaceful pond. Mother Duck was so proud to watch her chicks emerge from their eggs one by one. And while she watched with pride she noticed that one egg looked slightly different from the rest. An irregular size and shape for a duck egg to be sure, but she watched with baited breath to see her baby emerge into the world. The other ducklings lay exhausted from their escape from their shells as the last little duckling pushed away the shell from his face.

His mother knew he was different from the other ducklings, but she loved him the way any mother would love her child.

The days past and the little ducklings grew to little puffs of yellow fuzz, all but the last to hatch, and the duckling that the other ducks called Uggy. Every day the other ducklings would find new and creative ways to tease him.

One day as Uggy waddled back to his mother with tears running down his misshapen bill.

“Mommy,” he whimpered. “Why do the other ducklings tease me?”

“They tease you because you’re different,” she said with hesitation. “And when something is different it make others uncomfortable.”

“But why am I different?” he asked.

“You just are,” she sighed. “Look at all the different creatures here in the pond, they’re different from us, but to each other they look normal.”

Uggy looked out over the pond and saw a set of swans lazily paddling by.

“Oh, now I see!” Uggy exclaimed and began to paddle out across the pond.

A great deal of time passed and soon all the ducklings had grown out of their duckling phases. They paddled lazily around as grown ducks do and talked of things that grown ducks talk about. And then, from the far side of the pond a stranger they thought they had never seen before paddled their way. The ducks all froze, their bills hanging agape. The stranger continued to paddle past them all, holding his head high. He paddled right behind the mother duck who was lazily eating some water grass.

“Hello mother.” Uggy said holding his head up high.

The mother duck turned and spat out the pond grass in shock at the sight of the full-grown Uggy.

“I have come home a beautiful swan,” Uggy announced for everyone to hear.

Slowly a chuckle began to emerge from the other ducks, the few chuckles turned into an uproarious laughter. Confused, Uggy frantically looked around at the other ducks then back at his mother.

“Mama, why are they still laughing at me?” Uggy asked, choking back the lump in his throat.
“Because dear,” she said softly. “You’re not a swan, just a really ugly duck.”

Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

Random thoughts and observations

o In most urinals there is a little rubber mat with the slogan “say no to drugs,” printed on it…

o Any compliment given to a woman can be taken offensively.

o How late you are to work is directly proportionate to how fast you’re willing to drive when you’re half awake.

o The only bad thing about bad habits is when people catch you doing them.

o We justify what we do all the time; we will reason it out to our selves so that we feel no guilt. Yet every time we’re about to get “caught” our blood runs cold proving that we can only lie to ourselves for so long.

o A lady I used to work with told me her son used up all of their (hers and his) min on his cell phone, the kid is 8 years old! I don’t care what the reason is, kids don’t need cell phones.

o Does no one ever think to shoot Batman in the mouth? I’m mean, on and entirely black costume it’s a pretty easy target.

o Everyone always thinks “oh I’ll just call IT” or “let’s just have IT” do it. It’s funny that so few people realize that their entire world would crumble without IT. They are like the gods of the computer world. They see all and hear all. In fact, they’re reading this post right now…

o If you want to get head, go to Canada.

o I am attempting to put a wish list on my Blog, this is my first attempt.

o Why do waiters grind the pepper that the table for you? Has anyone ever complained on non-fresh-ground pepper? And why are people so impressed by this feat?

o Somebody once said to me “all you ever do is talk about sex, that must mean you’re not getting enough.” Ummm… I didn’t thing you could ever have “enough” (like money.)

o I hate when I’m totally “talking out of my ass” and someone calls me on it. It just shoots the old credibility to shit.

o Being neurotic and a video game junkie does create a problem. Usually after I beat a game I have to go back and find

o Women are not alone on this, I FUCKING HATE SKINNY GIRLS THAT BITCH ABOUT BEING FAT! I mean seriously, it’s just annoying. I mean, they were attractive until they started in on that shit. Besides they’re far more to worry about than the elasticity of your flesh (like the fact that your boobs are all funny look’n.)

o This is for the Mexicans: the back window of your car is not a memorial plaque. I know they were conceived in the back of that car, but that doesn’t make it a monument.

o I get home today and some guy rolls up to me in a van while i'm getting my mail. he leans out his window and asks me to throw away an alcohol bottle for him. As he's handing it to me he says "thanks man, i'm already on probation and i don't want to go back to jail again." THESE ARE MY FUCKING NEIGHBORS!!!


Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

HNW- Half Nekke'd Worker

Lately I've been busy... busy working!

Before you get too excited, realize when I say work I mean work.

My night job is at Lowes, I've spent a total of 22 hours of computer training just to work in the plumbing department. BTW, this department is in such a terrible state that everyone treats me like a death row inmate.
Exile: I work in plumbing
cashier: OMG, I'm sorry...

During the day I work 9-4 without a break as my dad's assistant at his shop... This is no cake walk. My dad works at a company that makes all kinds of steel goodies. They make air ducts and wall studs. My dad's job is to make sure the machines are all running. My job is to be an extra set of hands to do all the jobs he doesn't want to do. I pick up parts, I clean, and I move heavy, dirty, steel. I also clean parts (FYI, the skin is pealing off my hands as we speak).

So in honor of HNT and me working I present what I look like after a day of work...


BTW, did I mention that in all that dirt their are little slivers of metal sticking in my skin that are too small to see, but itch like the damned?


Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

She Just Fell Asleep

She just fell asleep next to me. I guess even peaches get tuckered, after all we just slept for 12 hours, so of course she's tired.

there's something about these moments that I really enjoy. It's like life has slowed down to a crawl. Just mere moments ago we were making her grandma a Easter card on my computer. After it printed she just passed out. Her breathing has become rhythmic and there isn't a bit of concern on her face. She's just sleeping quietly.

it's kinda strange how much someone can enjoy these moments. Don't get me wrong, I love when we're out and running about, but with all the stress life has put me under lately it's just peaceful.

The TV is off.
The birds are chirping.
Cars are driving by.
Peaches is sleeping.

it's like dipping into quiet peaceful pool, one I'd gladly drift away in.


Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

The Wanderer - Part Seven (Final chapter)

PART ONE (click here)
PART TWO (click here)
PART THREE (click here)
PART FOUR (click here)
PART FIVE (click here)
PART SIX (click here)


PART SEVEN
The next morning the sounds that once filled the shrine were vacant. The whishing sounds of the straw broom were absent, even the sounds of the earth being tilled in the modest garden were dormant. There were no sounds beyond that of the birds save for the sandals of a Priestess as she walked through the temple courtyard. Lovingly bundled in the pack on her back the two crystals gleamed in the sunlight. She left behind the shrine, the modest garden, the collapsed well, and the entire temple. Walking the forest path the purple flowers lilted down from the trees adorning her head. While hiking the path the Priestess stopped and gazed out into the woods, but she only saw trees. Her eyes, still crimson from the tears of the night before, drifted to the small patch of blue sky above her. She took a deep breath and steeled her self for the journey ahead.

There in the woods, beyond the trees where the Priestess had stopped, a man lay with a rusted sword, covered in purple flowers.

THE END


Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

The Wanderer - Part Six

PART ONE (click here)
PART TWO (click here)
PART THREE (click here)
PART FOUR (click here)
PART FIVE (click here)


PART SIX
A look of shock was frozen on his face as he slowly examined the result of the Wanderer’s strike. Sliced from shoulder to thigh, the Bandit’s blood rapidly escaped his body. With only a thin layer of sinew keeping the gash from unzipping his entire body the Bandit began to double over, clutching at the stump which once held his hand. The Bandit stumbled back against the well as the Priestess charged him with the spear-like broom handle. She dug the splintered point of the handle into the side of his throat.

“She didn’t tell you did she?” the Bandit growled, leaning precariously on the rim of the well. “I was to be a priest. I was to guard these crystals alongside her.”

“You stole from the shrines, you stole from the priests and you stole from me,” shouted the Priestess, pressing the point from the shattered broom harder into his neck. “You stole my life, sentencing me to live here, all alone, to guard the crystals.”

The Wanderer slowly got back on his feet, using his blood-smeared sword as a crutch.

“This isn’t you,” he said, resting his hand on the Priestess’s shoulder. “And he’s not worth it.”

Her face, once flooded with anger, returned to its calm demeanor.

“I want you to leave.” She said to the Bandit with closed eyes. “I want you to walk away from this place and forget it ever existed.”

With one last push she removed the splintered broom handle from his neck and turned her back to him. She steeled her self and walked back to the shrine, her air of dignity impermeable.

Pushing off of the crumbling well, the Bandit rushed the unsuspecting Priestess with a dagger gripped tightly in his remaining hand.

With the hollow unsettling thump of bodies colliding, the Bandit hung lifeless on the Wanderer’s back. The Wanderer had tucked the blade under his arm and stepped in between the Priestess and the Bandit. A cough of blood was the last sign of life in the Bandit as his empty hand swung down at the Wanderer’s side. The Wanderer’s now crimson blade fused the two men together leaving all the weight on his fatigued legs. His eyes were clenched tightly as pain and discomfort coursed through his body. He could feel the Bandit’s weight pulling him backwards stumbling against the well. The sides of the well began to collapse from the stress as the two men began to fall in. He closed his eyes and felt something tugging at the hilt lodged in his armpit. Through weary eyes he could see the Priestess pulling with all her might on the sword.

“Let go of him you bastard!” she yelled at the Bandit’s corpse.

She dug her foot up high on the Bandit body and kicked hard sliding the blade out of his body and freeing the Wanderer. The blade’s release sent the Priestess flying backwards and the Bandit’s body fell violently into the well. His impact at the bottom of the well caused the walls to collapse inward, filling the darkness with the sounds of rubble. The Wanderer was so weary from the fight that he didn’t realize that he was the only one still standing. With blood cascading down his working arm he extended his hand to help the Priestess to her feet.

Becoming aware of her dischevelment, she began straightening her kimono, brushing the fabric free of dirt. With an elated smile she looked up at the Wanderer who was attempting to slide the sword back into the sheath. Without a word he turned and began to walk back to the entrance of the temple.

She darted in front of the Wanderer standing in his path with her eyes fixated on the ground. He continued walking until she was close enough to lightly rest her head on his chest.

“Don’t go.” She whispered, choking on the most delicate of tears.

With his still functional arm he gently held her, then stepped back so he could look into her shimmering eyes.

“Before I met you I had nothing to offer,” he whispered. “I could never describe how it feels to know that I could give you the world.”

They both drew in a deep breath as the Wanderer cradled her cheek in his hand. The passionate kiss that was so long awaited melted away the world around them. Their mouths pressed and opened slowly as the lovers’ tongues lightly embraced. The Priestess’s hands ran across the Wanderer’s damp back, tracing the now tattered bandages she wrapped him in the night before. With equal resistance the lovers broke their intimate embrace.

As the Wanderer stepped aside and began to walk back towards the woods, his lifeless arm brushed against her. As she watched him walk away the Priestess felt a tear run to the corner of her mouth. The saline of the tear mixed with the metallic taste of the Wanderer’s blood she was becoming aware of. She looked down at her hands and saw they were soaked; she looked back to the Wanderer who limped across the clearing.

As he reached the path the Wanderer reached beneath his shredded kimono and pulled out the hollow tipped dagger. The blade had made a sheath of the soft flesh of his stomach muscle and tissue. He threw the blade into the woods and continued walking. There was no pain for the Wanderer, as the kiss burned its way into his memory every other physical sensation faded away.


PART SEVEN


Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

HND: Half Nekk'ed Driver

d I look young.

I get it.

But I'll be damned if I don't get harassed everywhere I go because of it.

For those of you just tuning in, this is what I look like


This is what I look like stealing a Delorean...


But I'll admit, I don't look old. Recently I took a day trip to Laughlin with Peaches and I'll be damned if every time we played a game I got carded.

I was carded at the first video poker machine.
I was carded at the second video poker machine.
I was carded when I asked the cocktail waitress to bring me a bottle of water.

Every time I go to pull out my license they expect a fake id.

They never expect this:


This HNT I decided to expose to the viewing public what I looked like at 16.

Yes, that is my license.
Yes, that is was weight.
Yes, that is was hair.
And yes, they always laugh.


(btw, now i'm 5'11" and about 185 lbs.)


Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com

The Wanderer - Part Five

PART ONE (click here)
PART TWO (click here)
PART THREE (click here)
PART FOUR (click here)


PART FIVE
With blades in hand they charged one another. The sound of gravel giving way to running feet welled up like a drum roll. The Bandit went high with his blade, driving it down, while the Wanderer went low accelerating in speed. The sound of metal against metal seemed to be the only proof that the invisible strike took place. The Priestess, whose eyes never strayed from the fight couldn’t even see the impact of the blades. It wasn’t until the Bandit’s armor began to unravel that she could see who struck whom. The sound of the buckles severing was the source of the resonating strike.

Nervously, the Bandit slithered out of the now useless armor; all the power it held seemed to bleed away. His true weak self had shed the terror it resided in. With the Wanderer bleeding from every one of the Bandit’s strikes and the Bandit powerless without his armor the combatants were evenly matched.

“Are you ready to die for her?” Hissed the Bandit as he tightened his grip on the dark sword.

Digging the tips of his sandals into the gravel the Wanderer smiled; there was no fear in his eyes.

The Priestess couldn’t say a word as the two warriors made their final charge. Heavy breaths and the impact of each stride were the only sounds as their blades swiped at each other.

The Wanderer twisted in mid stride and fell to the earth, sliding on the gravel while the Bandit remained standing. With tears streaming down her face the Priestess sprinted to the Wanderer’s side.

Dropping what remained of the broom she rolled him on his back exposing a deep gash in his left shoulder and an oddly content smile. Puzzled, she looked back to the Bandit.


PART SIX



Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com