Woman Confounded By Reality After Weeks of Reading Children's Fantasy Books

Woman Confounded By Reality After Weeks of Reading Children's Fantasy Books

By Barbara Holm

Minnesota book club leader Beatrice Johnson was apprehended by authorities yesterday. Reportedly, she dashed into the midst of traffic, stared at a SUV for a moment, and then placed her palm up towards the oncoming vehicle. She squinted her eyes and furrowed her brow. Thirty year old Johnson stood in the way of a collision with her hand out and was saved at the last second by a passing pedestrian. Beatrice claimed that she had been disoriented and had thought she could slow the car with her mind.

   

The woman had spent the last three weeks reading The Hunger Games, Twilight, and concluded the showerless trek of time with the Harry Potter series. She had ingested so much fantasy into her mind that she now thought it real.

 

“It’s quite common,” said Dr. Polowski, a specialist in fantasy literature’s effect on the psyche of lonely people. “These kids, or adults in increasing cases, read the books for over ten hours a day, and then they think that they exist in the rules set up in that fictional universe.”

 

For example, in Georgia earlier this week a woman thought she was the girl with the dragon tattoo, so it could have been worse.

 

“I just....” stuttered poor Beatrice. “I was reading fantasy for about five hours and I just was so absorbed into the storyline that when I came out of it, I thought I had powers for a little while. It’s not a big deal. Calm down.”

 

“This is getting out of control,” said therapist Steven Tyler. “Fans of fantasy everywhere are losing their grip on reality. A man in Oregon thinks we have a half black president.”

 

Reportedly, the lonelier a reader is, the easier it is to lose themselves in children’s fantasy literature. The results of this study are sponsored by a party display store that specializes in Edward Cullen costumes.

 

Fans of fantasy novels everywhere are beginning to lose themselves into escapism and forgetting how the rules of reality works. It’s charming when it’s a ten year old who thinks she’s going to find love someday, but it’s almost dangerous when it’s a thirty year old who believes in telekinesis.

Scientists Discover an Alternative to Fossil Fuels: Unbridled Loathing

Scientists Discover an Alternative to Fossil Fuels: Unbridled Loathing

In the epoch of giant trucks and hummers, we enter a science fiction esque frenzy over the depletion of natural resources, the effects of carbon emissions on the atmosphere, and the greenhouse effect. Gas prices are skyrocketing due to the dwindling supply of fossil fuels and gas guzzlers are desperate. Scientists all over the planet are searching for an alternative to fossil fuels and one Swedish scientist thinks she may have discovered a never ending, renewable supply of energy: unbridled loathing.

“It was quite simple once I thought about it,” said Dr. Serena Grendle. “We needed something dark and disgustingly sludgy to put in our vehicles, something society could dependently rely on, and humanity has an endless supply of unconditional hatred.”

“It’s really a genius idea,” said Grendle’s colleague, the not at all bitter and jealous Dr. Sven. “She is extracting the energy people spend hating others, and converting that into power we can use to fuel basically anything.”

Using a mechanism like a breast pump, Grendle is now frequenting the DMV, corporate offices, and family reunions to suck the loathing out of others. Reportedly hatred will be very cheap to produce, manufacture and market due to its already obvious popularity. This technology will be available in the next ten years, according to scientific estimates.

Some academics raise concern, however, that while this will help with dwindling supplies and shortages, it will do nothing to reduce carbon emissions and reverse greenhouse effects. Reportedly, unbridled loathing creates almost worst emissions for the atmosphere than gasoline and will speed up global warming quite a lot. Human beings are not sure yet if this is a benefit or a drawback.

 

 

 

 

 

Sports Still Happening

Sports Still Happening

 

By Barbara Holm

 

The green grass of the basketball court glistens with sweat and the dew of the morning. The crowd roars with noises as they cram enough people in one arena to induce a demophobia attack. Reportedly, across the world, sports are still being played.

Soccer, baseball, cricket, football, American football, swimming, and more are currently being practiced and perfected. At this very moment, a child is being driven to a little league practice somewhere, sobbing in the backseat, despite the fact that dad already told him/her to buck up.

“Yeah, it’s still going on,” grumbled grizzled Coach Johnson from under his handlebar mustache. “We got a match next week against Liberty. It could determine whether we go to state or not this year.”

Surprising to some, sports also continue on a professional level. Athletes make millions of dozens of dollars while an audience of people watches. Invested emotionally in the game, the crowd paints their faces, dresses, and even dances in humiliating ways to show their support.

“A sport,” explained professional basketball player David Steve, “is a competitive activity based on sweating that usually involves rules such as ‘out of bounds.’ Often a sport relies on a point system.”

In addition to the livelihood of the athletes, sports have also spawned a vast industry of employment for out of work cheerleaders, peanut salesmen, and foam finger factory workers.

 “It’s great,” said professional cheerleader Stephanie. “Before this I was cheering on the street for change. And these uniform skirts are pretty much dry clean only.”

Despite the delight of the fans and the benefit to the economy, the continuation of sports has been met with some criticism. “One time a jock knocked the books out of my hands!” said a grown up adult who never got over the teasing of Bobby Hanson in eighth grade.

 

 

 

 

 

Lindsay Lohan Switches Back into her Body After Being Trapped in that of her Childhood Doll for Ten Years

Lindsay Lohan Switches Back into her Body After Being Trapped in that of her Childhood Doll for Ten Years

Lindsay Lohan’s eyes fluttered open yesterday morning. Upon gaining consciousness of wakefulness, the twenty five year old actress immediately was screaming in terror. Her boyfriend (who sleeps in a cot in the closet) rushed into her bedroom to check on her. She shrank away from his comforting arms and shook her head in panicked confusion, knocking pictures off the wall as she shook her ten pounds of yellow hair.

   

“How did I get here?” She gasped before fainting.

 

Experts and scientists deduced that after ten years of being trapped inside her childhood doll’s, the body swap must have run its course and the real Lindsay had returned to her body.

   

“It’s like nothing we’ve seen before,” said Dr. Willard, body swap scientist who was in fact inspired to take up the career by Lohan’s performance on Freaky Friday. “Usually when someone swaps bodies, to switch back they have to learn an important lesson about empathy or love, or get almost killed to death by lightning. In this case, it seems that the universe simply gave up and returned Lohan to her original body.”

 

Clutching her newfound woman breasts, Lohan recounted, “It was so weird. I was just a living in my parents house, and pursuing my childhoold dream of acting. And then one day I wake up and I’m sitting on a shelf where I put my doll Cassandra, watching everything through her glass marble eyes.”

 

Scientists deduce that while Lohan was trapped in a porcelain body, the doll was in her own fifteen year old flesh, walking around, going to auditions, enjoying parties, and tanning the freckles away. The doll in Lohan’s body moved out of her parent’s home, leaving its old vessel behind. Lohan’s parents left her room the way it was, but didn’t venture in often, so she was stuck staring into space, trapped in the doll’s body, and screaming silently in her head for almost half her life.

   

Now that she is back in her original body, no one knows what lies in store for the once adorable star of the Parent Trap, but one thing’s for sure, she’s going to destroy that fricking doll with a hammer.

Originally Written for HAHAJK

Economy Improving in Wish Granting and Curses Industries

Economy Improving in Wish Granting and Curses Industries

For years the economy has suffered worldwide, but finally reports show that we’re turning a corner. Some of the cobwebs and dust is being gradually brushed off the shop countertops. A few interested customers and some uninterested ones are lingering in front of window displays. According to recent studies, the economy is definitely showing improvement in the industry of wish granting and curses.

After a drastic drop in spending, stocks and data numbers have finally taken a marked upward trend in the dark arts. In the last month there has been a 14% increase in consumer spending, according to local gypsies and shamans.

“For years there would only be the occasional weekly customer,” said local amateur wizard Jennifer Smith. “Like someone who really needed to curse their office administrator. You know: an emergency. But now it’s like every day there’s a new client coming into the shack and begging to have a wish granted. People are desperate again. It’s wonderful!”

Reportedly there is an increase in new clients searching for magical antidotes and also a rise in the frequency with which regular customers are utilizing these services.

Experts speculate that the rise in interest in wish granting and curses may be correlated to the extreme terror and misery that is sweeping the planet. Wishes and curses scientist Brady Joe said that it is a common trend. “The public realizes that everything is meaningless and we’re all spiraling downward into an inevitable doom and then suddenly they want to wish to go on a date with Alex from marketing.”

Witch doctors and magical retailers everywhere are happy with the apparent influx of demand. Subsequently this has a positive effect creating more positions in the factories for elves on the production level. The economy has apparently taken a turn for the better, but some industry professionals wonder how long this will last.

“We don’t really know where we’ll be in a year,” said Jennifer Smith from under her starry pointed wizard hat, hugging her small son to her robed waist. “But for now, I can afford to get little Timmy shoes without holes in them.”

Originally for HAHAJK

DEBATE RECAP MAD LIBS

Originally written for HAHAJK.





Debate Recap Mad Libs


There were mixed emotions Thursday, when it became clear that (insert your preferred candidate here) had won the debate by a wipeout landslide. Audiences from (insert your political party) were elated when (insert your preferred candidate here) discussed (insert the political issue that affects you most here).

 With the election so tightly focused on the economy, health care, and women’s reproductive rights, it’s pretty obvious that (insert preferred candidate) is the right choice for the white house. When those issues came up in the debate, everyone scoffed that (Insert opposing party’s candidate) seemed to have no idea what he was talking about. He was totally out of his element.

 One crowd member from (insert either a democratic or conservative state here) said, “I expected the debate to be heated, but I couldn’t have imagined this much tension. I was really impressed with (insert preferred candidate)’s confidence and poise in front of the crowd. When (insert opposing candidate) discussed (insert least favorite viewpoint) he really put his foot in his mouth. What a huge gaffe! He definitely offended potential voters.”

 At that moment, (insert preferred candidate) just smiled and looked at the camera to say, “I’ve got him now! The debate is mine!” And audiences of (insert your political party) rejoiced at the victory.

 If there had been anyone on the fence, the clear victory in the debate will have definitely without a doubt pushed any swing voters to (insert preferred candidate)’s side. (Insert your party)’s politicians were very proud of (insert your candidate)’s win in the debate.

 I had been planning on voting for him from the beginning so I may be biased, but the debate really proved to me that I am making the right decision choosing (insert preferred candidate.) After watching that heated showdown, no one in their right mind could believe that (insert opposing party’s candidate) won.

I don't know. Gross.

Once upon a time there was a little girl who was really an adult by any other culture's standards with a bad "Rachel" haircut and a bunch of band t-shirts with sweat stains on the pits. She thought she was beautiful in a secret kind of way because she was a fucking idiot and had yet to be crushed by the bloody gummy jaws of reality in the grown up world.

That little girl was me once.

It was late at night or early in the morning when I snuck into Brock's lab with the key I had stolen while he slept. The lab was dark and unfamiliar. I had only been there a couple times before, to visit him, to gain his trust, to bring him lunch or a coffee, to pick him up after work and bring him back to my place so he could boss me around in bed while I pretended I was somewhere else.

That little girl went to class every day and studied in all of her free time. She loved her boyfriend and her friends with all of her heart. She wore her hair in pigtails when she danced at the gym. She cried in the movie Garden State and in any movie where a short brunette girl cries. She really liked scrabble and didn't drink or smoke. She wanted to marry her boyfriend, my boyfriend, and live happily ever after.

I got to Brock's corner of the lab and crawled into the machine. There weren't any instructions or anything but I figured he wouldn't have made it dangerous and then strapped those poor little chimpanzees in. I taped the electrodes to my temples, closed my eyes, and let go of 2013, and disappeared from existence, or rather flooded everywhere into existence, falling backward, falling away.

I saw me longboarding through the quad in baggy capris and a Velvet Underground t-shirt. Halfway through the quad I jumped off my longboard and ran to hug a tall, handsome, half Asian man carrying a pile of books. He leaned down but didn't hug me back because his hands were full. 19 year old Barbara danced and laughed and tried to jump up to kiss him on the cheek. Not being tall enough, and not getting any sort of help on his end, she ended up kissing his shoulder. Then she longboarded away.

Mike continued walking in the opposite direction without looking back at 19 year old me.

I jogged into the quad and ran right up to him. He frowned at me from far away and stared at me hard as I got closer. I stopped in front of him. His brow furrowed and he hugged his books to his chest. His lips dropped open. He took a step back.

"Mike, it's me Barbara, well from the future."
"What is this?" he said. "Is this a joke?"
"No I swear. I'm Babs from year 2013."
"Babs?"
"I go  by Babs now."
"Gross."
"Kid, can we talk?"
"Don't call me kid, I'm older than-"
"Are you?"
"I don't know how this works."

We went quickly to the art building and entered an empty classroom. The classrooms were mostly on the basement level and the galleries were on the above ground level. This one had a bunch of long wooden paint splattered tables and smelled like old clay. I turned to face Mike as he adjusted his hoodie strings.

"I really came to warn 19 year old Barbara about you," I said.
"Why? Wait I don't believe any of this." Mike put his head in his hands. I gazed at his dark wavy falling over thick eyebrows. Under his eyes on his cheekbones were a sprinkle of freckles that I had missed. I paced hurriedly around the art room.
"You're going to break her heart into a million pieces. You're not that into her, but she's in love with you."
"I love her too."
"You what?" I stopped short, pivotted and looked back.
"I love her." Mike was staring at me intently with dark chocolate eyes.
"You never told her...me.... In three years you never said..." I breathed heavily.
"I never told her... you... that I did because I was so scared of losing her..."
"Well you push her away to the point that she has a nervous breakdown and doesn't eat for a week," I said pointedly.
"Hot." He walked toward me seriously.

I laughed in spite of myself. I didn't know what to do with this newfound information. I gazed at my college boyfriend. He was looking at me with sweetness and care in his eyes. How could I have never realized how much he liked me? I guess my low self esteem was getting in the way.

"Barbara..." He said, choking a little on the words. "I love you. I think you're wonderful and a genius writer and super weird and special and I do want to spend the rest of my life-"

I reached for his hand gently to comfort him. He grabbed my hand and pulled me into his chest. With his other hand he grabbed my cheek and kissed me deeply. My heart fluttered like it hadn't in five years. He lifted me up and I wrapped my legs around his waist. He sat me down on the wooden table, kissing me, and began undoing his belt. I maintained eye contact while I awkwardly yanked my pants off. Within seconds we were one, together again, in love, and feeling every emotion and tactile vibration in our bodies and minds. He kept kissing me while I came hard in a room where I had once done a presentation about pictures of goldfish, or maybe that hadn't happened yet. He kissed me really hard and passionately and I felt more wanted than I had ever felt in my life. I could feel myself losing grip on reality and I could feel the time space continuum getting really annoyed at me. I looked up into his eyes and ached to tell him something, to beg him to do something, I struggled to cry out to him, but nothing happened and I just kissed him.

I slowly dissolved from the past, fading from Mike's arms, and reappeared in the future, crying in Brock's basement.

Mike gasped and fell forward, losing his balance on the empty table. There was nothing but air in his hands. He coughed and put himself back together.

Outside the art room door, a little girl sat listening through the wall, with her knees pulled up to her chest. Next to her sat a longboard and a backpack. She wiped her tears with her Velvet Underground t-shirt, got up, and ran away.

the perfect everything

The second bar we went to had red lights and portraits of angry dogs, which on some level puts people in the mood. I wasn't drunk, but it's not like I needed to be drunk to be okay in this social context. It was so loud that I couldn't have really spoken anyway. The band played another poorly derivative sad song replete with too many guitars and slightly ahead of the beat drums.

"Want to dance?" I squeaked. I pushed my glasses up my nose. Then I fidgeted, taking them off, rubbing my scarf with them, and then placed them on top of my head so he could see my eyes. I don't know if my eyes are my best feature but I think they convey the most vulnerability, which is probably my only attribute.

"No. I don't dance," he said.

I just smiled at him. Whether or not he was dancing with me, my heart was clearly dancing in my chest. He gave me a quick dimple heavy grin and looked above my head. He smiled and nodded at a friend across the bar. I reached for him, aching to be held. He rubbed my lower back with one strong confident hand absentmindedly and took a sip from his beer. I leaned into him, fitting the top of my head under his chin, and looked up. 

"Do you want to get out of here?" I asked. My voice was so high and annoying. I coughed. Think about Scarlett Johanson! I told myself. Deep and sultry. Think cleavage but for your voice.

"Joe just got here. You really want to leave?" He said.

"Um, sorry,  I meant, like no, but maybe later maybe go back to your place together..."

"Oh."

"Nevermind," I said. "I'm uh easy going."

"Because that's what easy going people say."

"Yeah. No. Sorry."

He left me at the bar for awhile and talked to a couple of his friends. I replayed different scenes from Pride and Prejudice in my head and fiddled with my hair, or in other words, was awesome. After a while, he slung his messenger bag over his shoulders and stood up. He looked at me over his shoulder and beckoned his head. His black hair slid over his eyebrows with the confident toss. He smiled a little bit with just his lips, raising one eyebrow.

I hurriedly pushed the two books I was reading into my purse, grabbed my wallet from where I had dropped it clumsily on the floor, like an adult, and hopped up to follow him. He was looking down at his phone and slowly walking out the door of the bar. I jogged to catch up at him and he didn't say anything. I reached for his hand. 

Stammering, I added, "Just-to-be-clear-I-was-inviting-myself-over-to-have-um-you-know-like-sexual-intercourse." 

"Gross! Dummy," he said. He kissed the top of my head. I loved how tall he was. He was like the perfect height, the perfect everything.

We got to the bus stop and waited in silence for a minute. I reveled in how much I liked this guy, maybe loved him. I reminded myself not to say anything like that in bed. When we got to his apartment he unlocked the door and let himself in first. I made a note that that was a thing guys who were into equality probably did. He was probably a super big feminist  I followed him in. Once inside, I ran to him and threw my arms around his neck and tried to kiss him.

"Wait here a sec. I need to go clean my room," he said.

"Buddy, I don't care if it's messy," I said, kissing his neck.

"I do. I just... I have to put some stuff away, okay? Stuff I don't need you to see..." 

He pried my arms away and went into a room, closing the door behind him. It shut hard and I jumped a little, even though I was expecting it. I walked around his living room. The shelves were filled with various stacks of books, videogames, and movies, haphazardly organized. The top shelves where I couldn't reach were lined action figures, little robots, and various toys. I pulled a book from the shelf. It was Eugene Mirman's book... not that this detail is important. I just don't want you to think I was trying to put on any airs here. Like I coulda grabbed that Dostoevsky book, but that'd be like an intellectual push up bra, right?

After about twenty minutes, the bedroom door opened. He came back out. I shut the book and hopped off the couch, twirling toward him with a giddy grin.

"Heeeeey-" I stopped short and immediately dropped the flute-like trill from my voice. "Wait what's wrong?"

He was looking over my shoulder, above me. He looked scared and confused. His eyes were wide, red rimmed, and twitching. Tiny droplets of tears streamed from the corner of his beautiful ocean blue eyes. He didn't say anything. He stared hard away from me.

I ran to him and threw my arms around him. "Oh my god what... are you okay?"

"I just... I don't know what I'm doing with ...anything..." he said, his voice high and shaky.

I stood on my tippy toes so I could try to caress his head. He stayed motionless like a really big tree. It was so hard to hold someone who was taller and didn't want to be held. "C'mere," I said. I tried to lead him to the couch and he reluctantly obliged.

"What's... what happened?" I said. I realized I was trembling. He wasn't. 

"I don't know... I can't do this." He wouldn't look at me. He started crying again.

I sat on his lap. "Can't do what?" I dragged his arms around my waist, linking his hands together.

"This... I'm sorry. I don't know. I think I just need to be alone tonight," he said.

"Wait what? I'm sorry. Did I do something wrong?" I ran my fingers gently through his hair.

He wiped tears from his eyes. "Can you go?"

"Do you um not want to um have sex first?" I asked.

"No."

"Um, maybe a little bit of kissing?" I kissed his lips but he didn't kiss me back. I wiped a tear from his cheek. He brushed my hand away.

"Please." 

"Sorry. I'm sorry if I made you mad. I'm really... sorry."

"You did nothing. I just need to be alone."
"Can I do anything?" I was crying now too. "I want to help. I'm so sorry. I feel awful." I kissed his hand.
"No."

 "You know, buddy," I said softly. "We're friends. You can talk to me about whatever is... going on. If you want to... I mean. I'm here for you. You can tell me anything."

"I don't want to."

"I know."

Reflections of a boyfriend of a manic pixie dream girl

Week One: Today I met the most amazing girl! She’s so quirky and weird. She has glasses and wears clashing hats. I want to marry her and sleep by her side forever! Wow, she has a high pitched stuttering nerd voice! She’s so accessibly vulnerably hot. I’m head over heels in love! And it’s all genuine; nothing about it is a character!

“Hi, my name is Steve, I couldn’t help but notice you rode a bicycle awkwardly and fell down getting off of it. Would you like to go to dinner sometime?”

Week Two: This has been the best week of my life, that I can conceivably remember! We sang karaoke! Outside we danced in the streets under a lamp! She’s always giggling, playing ukulele, and running around like a fairy. It’s so sweet when she kisses the back of my neck when I’m working. I really am falling in love with this girl.

Week Three: This week has been great! She made me a cute mixtape on a cassette. She does things like cook food in her underwear and leaves her shoes everywhere. I mean, it’s fine, but like, everywhere. It’s adorable. She talks a lot in her sleep, which is childlike and endearing, not too annoying. I really like this girl.

Week Four: It’s going good. Well. I don’t know. She still plays her ukulele and kisses the back of my neck when I’m really trying to get work done. It’s like she’s from another planet where she doesn’t understand that Earth money is made from work, not drawing pictures of cows with stars for eyes. It’s so eccentric and charming... But when I sort of snapped at her for not giving me space she cried sitting down in the shower for an hour. She is really sweet. I think I’m starting to like this girl.

Week Five: Honestly it’s been really hard. It’s difficult to sleep next to someone crying in their sleep like an out of tune Bjork song on loop. She is in her late 20s and still acts like a kid. I don’t wanna fuck a kid! She wanted to sing karaoke the other night. Who likes karaoke? Idiots who wear cat cardigans to job interviews, that’s who. We were walking down the street and some bar was playing a song and she tried to make me dance with her outside in the cold. I told her I just want to go home and watch Game of Thrones, like an adult, and she asked me if I loved her and when I said I don’t know she just got on a random bus, a random one, without looking at the number. What a dummy. How does she even get her shoes on the right feet? I guess sometimes she has mismatched shoes, but, oh god, is that on purpose or not? Ugggh. No, I mean, I do think she’s cute.

Week Six: What kind of fucking adult makes cassette mixtapes? Everything is on spotify now and this grown woman gave me a fucking cassette tape wrapped in flowers and weeds she stole from a neighbor’s garden. I hope she got poison ivy. Just kidding. I think.

Week Seven: Stop talking to birds!

Week Eight: Oh. Oh, god, I’m so tired.

Week Nine: Are you serious? Nothing about this is a character?

Love Letters I'm sure got lost in the mail

From the Comic Book Store Clerk:

Hey, you. Let's stop fighting this. We both know how we feel about each other. We both have glasses and awkward cardigans. Let's just sweep these magic the gathering cards off this sticker clad counter and see where the night takes us.

PS. I'll make sure you're facing the Marvel rack.



From My Literature TA in College:

Dear Barbara,

I am writing to inform you, I am so utterly, completely  and hopelessly in love with you. I know we haven't spoken in four years, but alas, your thoughtful prose and clever use of wordplay slayed me eternally. I shall never be able to forget you. You are an amazing writer.



From My Therapist:

I like your personality.



From the guy I liked in college:

Hey, I'm so sorry for all the things I did and said. I clearly was totes in the wrong. I'm sorry I called you thunder thighs and left you at your doctor's appointment, driving off because I thought it was funny. It was funny, but in a mean hurtful way. I miss you so much. You are the most beautiful girl in the world and I know I don't deserve a second chance, but if you were altruistic enough to give me one, I would do everything I could to make you happy for the rest of your life. Also, you still have my Pixies hoodie. You can keep it.



From the guy I like now:

I was such a fucking idiot not to notice how special you are immediately  Let's have a picnic and do kisses in the rain to a Belle and Sebastian song and be in love forever, K?


From the last guy I intercoursed:

Yes, I left that t-shirt in your bedroom because I WANT you to smell it.


From the guy on the bus who looked like a bespectacled Michael Cera:

Yeah, I did just touch your leg with my leg. It wasn't exactly an accident.



From the barista at my coffee shop:

Hey kiddo, every day when you come in here to write, I try to get up the courage to tell you that you're gorgeous and interesting. I want to read everything you write and support you in your art. Here's a free latte.



From anyone:

You're really hilarious.



From my roommate's dog:

Ruff! Ruff! Ruff! Ruff! Ruff! Ruff! Ruff! Ruff! Ruff! Ruff!