Also, I have lost the ability to type coherent or interesting things. Now I can do other things.
This is, without question, the best celebration I have ever been to… she thought to herself, sitting on the sunny patio of a waterfront taco dive. There’s no patronizing guests to get in the way of my good time… The waves lapped agains the concrete rubble of the seawall a few yards away. The evening sun shone mildly on her porcelain skin, the soft, salty breeze blew through her wavy black hair. She leaned back in her chair and lifted a beer to her ruby red lips. One woman party. Best party ever…
“Hey, gorgeous, is this seat taken?”
She tipped her sunglasses down her nose to glare at the interloping gate-crasher. Water ran in rivulets down his grinning face as he set down a lumpy bag with snorkeling supplies hanging out of the top. He may have been cute when he was dry, but right now he looked like a soaked rat. His wet dress shirt clung to his chest, clashing loudly with his festive board shorts. He sat down in the chair next to her and signaled for another two drinks.
“Normally, I wouldn’t presume to interrupt, but this is kind of a special day for me,” he said, still grinning. Silence passed as they stared at each other. “Aren’t you going to ask me why?” he said after a while.
“Oh yeah,” she snarked, “that’s what I want, to interrupt MY celebration to talk about you…” she took a sulky sip of water.
“Okay,” he replied, “let’s talk about you. What’s your name?”
She glared at him. “Honey.”
“Honey? Wow, that’s a… unique name…”
“—It’s short for Honorea. But I hate Honorea. So I ask everyone to call me Honey. Which I guess is only slightly better…”
“Well, do you have a last name, Honey?”
“Not for you,” she said with a pointed look, grabbing a beer from the waiter.
“Well my name’s Victor. Victor Vega.”
“Wait a minute!” somebody yelled from the other side of the patio. Two shirtless, light haired youths approached—one tall and stocky, the other short and skinny.
“Victor ‘The Loser’ Vega?” the skinny one smirked, elbowing his chunky friend in the ribs. “I graduated high school with this guy! He was always digging in the dirt all the time. The guy thought he was some kind of architect—”
“Archaeologist,” Victor corrected. “So how’s college, Mike?”
“wouldn’t you lke to know, being a lower-class washout!”
“You went to high school with a clod?” Mike’s chunky friend piped up.
“Yes I did, Colby. His dad was the janitor, so they had to let him inta the god school!” the two of them fell all over each other laughing.
“So, loser, find any thing good? Anything you can trade for food?” Mike asked. Colby made a grab for Victor’s lumpy bag, but Victor snatched it away.
The drawstring opened just enough and a little wooden sword tumbled out, crusted with algae and mud. Victor snatched it up and stuffed it back in his bag.
“Hah, must be hard to part with when it’s your only possession in the world!”
“Well, I’d be happy to do your homework for money; I know you’d never understand it.”
“yeah, I’ll bet you’d love to do my homework, you clod nerd!” Mike and Colby collapsed on top of each other, laughing.
“you guys are so gay for each other,” honey said with detached cool. “It’d be cute if you weren’t so ugly.”
Mike and Cloby straightened up. “Say, Loser, aren’t you gonna introduce us to your low-class lady over here?” Mike sat down across the table from her and grabbed her water glass. “I’d be happy to show you how the other half lives… for a night.” He took a long drink from the half empty glass and got a face full of ice.
Victor and Honey started laughing uncontrollably.
Mike growled. “Shut up, you little whore!”
“Hey!” Victor stood, suddenly, “Don’t talk to her like that!”
“What are you gonna do about it?” Colby said, stepping forward.
“Boys, boys!” Honey said calmly. She stood up slowly and took off her sunglasses. “There’s better ways to solve your problems than by fighting.” She smiled ever so slightly “How about a boat race?”
Mike smiled. He grabbed Colby by the arm and took off.
Victor dug in his pocket and slapped a moist fifty dollar bill on the table.
“You do have a boat, don’t you?” Honey asked, sliding up next to him.
“Well, yeah, it’s that one. But—” She grabbed his hand and ran off toward the crumbled concrete seawall where a battered old john-boat was tethered to a protruding piece of rusted rebar. She jumped in wordlessly, and began to prime the engine.
Victor tossed his bag in and untied the moorings. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
Honey looked at him pointedly. “Stop being a wimp and get in!” he stepped into the boat. She pulled the ripcord and the outboard motor roared to life, sending a flurry of bubles to the surface. She backed them away from the seawall just as Mike and Colby pulled up alongside them in a shining chrome fanboat.
“First one to the buoy and back is the winner.” He leered at the rusty bucket sitting next to them. “Ready? Three… Two…”
Honey twisted the rudder handle, the john-boat went shooting out into the bay.
“Hey! You cheating bitch!” Mike yelled. Colby he jammed the throttle stick down and took off after them.
Wind blasted past Victor’s ears as he and Honey rocketed across the shining surface of the water.
“You know, this whole bay used to be a city?” he screamed conversationally.
“Really?” Honey said, keeping her eyes on the prize, “I couldn’t tell for all the half submerged bildings.”
The fanboat swooped in from the right, easily overtaking them, zooming out in front and staying there. The wind from the fan made Victor’s lips flap in the wind. He looked over at Honey. She was biting down on hers.
“Go right!” Victor yelled.
“What?” she screamed back.
“I have a plan!” She jerked the rudder to the left and the boat skidded right, over the wake left by the fanboat. “Aim for the space between those two towers!”
The fanboat followed, predictably, but gained at tremendous speed. Both boats neared the towers.
“Now go left!” Victor yelled, “Around the left tower!”
“Why?”
“Hurry!”
Honey jerked the ruddr and the boat shot to the left, narrowly avoiding the broken glass of the building. The fanboat, without a rudder, went straight between the towers. There was a screeching sound. Its bow dipped below the surface of the water and Mike and Colby were pitched out into the salty brine. The fanboat started to snk.
“Ha-Ha! I told you! There’s an old antenna between those towers! Dangerous! Must be ten boats sunk in that spot!”
Honey Smiled and pored on the throttle anew, aiming for the buoy.
“Wait! Shouldn’t we go back and help them?” Victor yelled over the wind. Honey stared straight toward the horizon. The buoy was close. A few more meters…
They flew past it, dislodging a few angry seabirds as they went.
“Okay, now we turn back,” Victor said. But Honey kept going, a satisfied grin on her face. “Honey, listen… we need to go back…” Victor cajoled, moving closer so he wouldn’t have to yell as loud. But Honey kept right on going.
A huge cruise ship loomed in front of them, just leaving port. Honey swerved in and out of its massive wake, laughing merrily as she did so.
“Honey, I’m telling you—“
The little motorboat began to overtake the massive cruiser, drawing up alongside it. Honey waved to the few passengers out on deck.
The motor cut out. Honey glared down at the rudder, shook it a couple of times, and pulled the cord.
“That’s what I was trying to tell you,” Victor said. “We ran outta gas.” Honey frowned at him.
“Oh well,” she said. She stuck her arms in the water and started rowing with her arms toward the big cruiser.
“What are you doing?”
“Well, you don’t want to swim to shore, do you?” she said, reaching across the water for an access ladder and pulling the motorboat closer to the ship’s hull. She started to climb up the side of the ship.
“But wait! This is a rental!” Victor protested as he watched her go. He sighed, grabbing his bag. “I’m never gonna see that deposit again…” He truculently followed her up.
The deck of the ship was oddly flat and rectangular, with a bug square tower sticking out of the middle. They climbed under the railing and looked around. There wa a plane at the aft of the ship. None of the other passengers seemed to notice that they were stowaways.
The sun had set and people were moving belowdecks.
“We should find a place to spend the night,” said Victor, yawning.
“What are you, tired?” Honey said, glaring at victor. “Who could sleep after that?”
“Give me a break,” Victor whined, “I’ve been working all day.”
“Have it your own way,” Honey replied, and she marched off toward the plane at the end of the ship’s deck. Victor followed.
Under th ewing of the plane she sat and began to make camp. Victor sat down beside her, pulling a space blanket out of his bag.
“It’ll get cold on the water in the dark,” he said, unfurling the chrome sheet.
She turned to look at him. “If yo touch me in the night, I’m going to break your nose,” she said.
Victor’s eyes opened wide in surprise before he regained his composure. “Fine,” he said, “I’ll just go sleep under the other wing. And I’ll take my blanket with me.” He athered up his things and settled under the other wing of the plane. He pulled a lump of dirty clothes from his bag, fluffed it up, and laid his head on it like a pillow.
Honey turned to face the other way and curled up in a fetal position.
Well this has been an eventful day… she thought. I wonder if anyone suspects..? The wind picked up as the ship moved further and further out into open water. Suddenly, Honey became painfully aware of how cold she was. She looked over at Victor, already asleep. I can’t crawl under that blanket now; he’ll think I’m a hypocrte… She got up and crept over to where his bag lay, hoping t find something useful within. She sutck her arm in and brushed something that felt dirty. It startled her. Probably that old wooden sword… she thought. She pulled her arm out and looke inside. There was the sword, but it didn’t look dirty at all. It almost seemed to shimmer in the darkness.
She reached out a finger and touched it again. A tingle went dwn her arm. She pulled away quickly.
There was nothing useful in the bag, so she decided to commandeer the cushions fom some deck chairs nearby.
@}%~
Hello, loyal readers
readers
reader my future self,
I've been at my new job for two weeks now, and I'm really happy to have something to do. It's nice having an office, even if it means a lot fewer blog posts.
But I'm back for Halloween! Not only Halloween, but I'm starting NaNoWriMo 2008 at midnight! The first group meeting is on the first, so I'll be down for that, too.
I swore off editing since the last time I put down UHA (I was getting rather burnt out) so when I commence UHA #3 I'll hopefully be well rested and ready to create a whole new world!
And then, Monday I've got more Job training in Portland.
I'll post the first section Of UHA3 here after it's written!
Have you ever read Animal Farm? If you've graduated from the eighth grade, I assume so. But even if you didn't, never fear because you can see it acted out riht here in the good old United States of America.
I hear tell that there are news programs questioning the eligibility of citizens to exercise their right to vote based on whether or not they are informed as to the issues. Basically, they say if you have little interest in politics, don't follow the news, or happen to be politically uninformed, you have no business voting.
I only pray that no one takes them seriously.
Listen, if you don't feel like watching the news and learning about the way your country works, that's your business and your responsibility, but don't ever let anyone tell you that you can't vote just because you're uninformed.
Uninformed you may choose to be—but you still have rights, you still have responsibilities, and if you feel like exercising them, DO IT!
And yes—the world would be a better place if everyone voted and understood the subtleties of political affairs. But when you start having eligibility requirements, or even discussions of 'who's fit and who's worthy' it harkens back to the grand ol' days of segregation—when they used to make African Americans pass impossible tests before they could vote.
And that is in direct contrast with the 'all people created equal' creedo by which this country makes its claim to greatness.
I see a future before us. An unfortunate one in which people, knowing that they're perhaps not as smart as others, surrender unto those others their rights. And from there it's a short slide down the slippery slope to the single commandment of Animal Farm:
"All Animals are Equal, But Some are More Equal Than Others."
So this is my tribute to the most iconic villains—the ones that make you want to be bad.
Supervillain : The Monarch 
He’s ruthless. He’s cunning. He’s… a little out of touch with reality, but let’s face it; The Monarch is all about villainy. From his legions of expendable footsoldiers to his arsenal of specialized weaponry, his penchant for overly dramatic monologues, and his unsettlingly hot second in command, The Monarch exemplifies everything great villains hope one day to be.
The Monarch is a satire, a composite of many ridiculous animal themed bad-guys of comic book yore who take themselves too seriously. But The Monarch is (or more specifically his creators, Jackson Publick and Doc Hammer are) in on the joke. But his larger than life presence and sharp tongue make him an instant winner.
Honorable mention: Dr. Ivo Robotnik
Anti-Villain : The Brain
The Anti-Villain is someone who does bad things for a good cause and the Brain’s got no shortage of immoral schemes to seize control of the world, and he uses a new one every night. It goes without saying that, once in charge, Brain would use his massive intellect to make the world a better place, but somehow his schemes never seem to work out…
Honorable mention: Magneto
Dark Lord : Darth Vader
It’s been said before, but that’s probably because it’s true. To summarize what’s been said by everyone else, when you think of evil, you think of this guy.
Honorable mention: Ganondorf
Force of Nature : Koschkey the Deathless
A larger-than-life character from Russian folklore, Koshckey is the undefeatable badass who lives in an unreachable keep far away. He invented the art of princess kidnapping. What’s the secret of his power? He can only be killed by finding his “death”; a seemingly inconspicuous object hidden inside a bunch of crazy crap.
Even if you knew how to kill him, it would probably seem like more trouble than it’s worth.
Honorable mention: Nazgul
Mad Scientist : Roger Chillingworth
Also known as The Leech, he was the veiled villain in The Scarlet Letter who is out for only one thing—revenge. Chillingworth is a physician (a doctor) and is on the cutting edge of his field. Though we never learn his real name, all of the main characters know exactly what he’s up to and yet do nothing to stop him. Chillingworth’s idea of revenge means keeping his target alive for as long as possible while the victim, in this case The fallen preist, Arthur Dimmesdale, tortures and attempts to end his own life via any means but the most direct.
Chillingworth keeps Dimmesdale healthy no matter how little he eats or what he does to himself. He clings to Dimmesdale like his namesake, the leech.
Honorable mention: Hojo (Final Fantasy VII)
Trickster : Robot Devil
Brute force is overrated. If you really want to get people to do what you want, why not make a deal? Though his plans may be ridiculously circuitous, they’re fun to watch. Plus, he’s got the look.
Honorable mention: Reynard the Fox
Religious Nut : Manah
LALALALALA… The throaty chorus resounds in your ears as the massive army bears down on you and the red eyes glare, and you never find out until the end *spoiler alert!* she’s a seven year old girl. Sure, she may have repented in the sequel, but that game sucked.
As the primary villain from the underrated videogame Drakengard, Mana’s scary. She sings, and she dances, but when she does it, neither of those things seem so cute. She also employs thousands of soldiers, dragons, and ogres with her hypnotic voice, murders goddesses in cold blood, and lets nothing get in her way. Especially her twin brother. And all because her mommy didn’t love her enough…
Honorable mention: Reverend Henry Kane (Poltergeist 2)
Archenemy : Capt Jas. Hook
From the book, not the movie (or, god forbid, the play…)! The movie did a fair job of capturing the character of Captain Hook, but omits certain juicy details present in the book.
Captain Hook is both refined and barbarous, enjoying the fine music of his harpsichord one moment and disemboweling his bungling underlings the next. But underneath his elegance and bravado is an almost endearing insecurity—and his obsession with ‘Good Form.’ Of course, its self defeating because even to consider whether one’s actions are indeed good form is… bad form. Hook is both anathema and compliment to Peter Pan; opposite in almost every way, and equal in many, Hook is obsessed with defeating Peter Pan, but ultimately is defeated by his own dual nature.
Honorable mention: The Joker
