yeah, and you told me it was yogurt… but then it turned out to be shaving cream…
“….In that order?”
- Thatsnotmayname: Damn….
- Us: What is it?
- Thatsnotmyname: this girl is being no help to me!
- Us: Why?
- Thanksnotmyname: I asked her when was the last time she was tested, and she said about 2 months ago, and I’m like that doesnt mean you dont have AIDS.
tumblrbot asked: WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE INANIMATE OBJECT?
….YOU TUMBLRBOT…. YOU’RE MY FAVOURITE
There is a tiny little speck of a town located off the Northern coast of Oregon. It is quiet and quaint and it’s the sort of place where everyone knows each other and everybodys business. In this town there is no good or bad side of the tracks, there are no tracks, in fact, just silent paved roads with no sidewalk. The houses are like cottages, tiny and rustic, and they all have picket fences and the people gather in the square every Monday to Mass (not for, to, it wasn’t religieous, they just liked to gather) From the looks of the place there was nothing particularly special about it, some may even say it was boring, if they were to pass through its 50’s burbonite streets on their way to Salem, good four hours away.
People always passed through, they never stayed, rarely stopped. When they did, on the rare occasion, venture into the local gas mart to ask for directions, or stop into Freddy’s Diner to grab a bite on the road, they were met with kind smiles but not much conversation. The people of this town made it quite clear that, although they were more than well mannered, they had no desire to intrigue outsiders into staying for the night. There were no hotels or inns, or even a bed and breakfast. You see, the residence of this town had one commonality- one in which they wished to keep secret and hidden away from the outside world.
Now to fully understand this tale you must know the places past. Settled by several clans of Romani at the dawn of the 20th century , its roots ran deep into the earth. The outside world despised what they ganjos called their ‘heathen’ ways, envious and ignorant of their knowledge and kinship to the planet. Sick of being feared and living in fear, several clans chose to go against their nomadic instincts and settled away from everything, hoping to preserve the lifestyle in which they hold so dear. They’r ways, in fact, were more than just that… what they shared was an ancient gift that the rest of man had long ago cast aside for material nonsense, and they kept it preserved over the centuries. Workers of old magicks, they sewed charms into their crops and cast spells of protection upon the housholds. Skilled in Dukkery, most read tea leaves, tarot, and palms alike with as much ease as books. What made the people of this town most unique though, was not that they were true traditional naturalists in modern times, choosing herbology over hospitals, this to the Gypsy children of today is not so out of the ordinary.
What made the inhabitance of the town so rare was their shared gift of sight. So deeply connected wth their ancient ways were they, even the children suffered unpredictable bouts of intense psychic visions. It was common to see a man or woman standing on the street, frozen, just staring off into the abyss, their eyes seeing things no one else could know. There was one lady of the town however, who everyone knew was different. They whispered about her as she passed. Not only did she see it, but they say she smelled the future as well.
Today at the local school a heard of boys stampeded into the classroom of their befuddled teacher, yammering up a storm, one pair of boys telling the wrest about how he had spotted “old hag hannah” frozen mid market, nostrils flaring violently as she was taken by a vision. They said it looked like she was smelling something miles away as her nostrils opened wide, almost gill-like, hungrily gasping.
The boys laughed and made jokes, as boys do, but Misstress Malory could not help but feel sadly intrigued by the schildrens mockery. She wondered what Hannah, who really was not a day older than thirty two, smelled when she had her vision. Anything she supposed, and wondered what it would be like to smell what she could See, she told the school kids to settle down so class could begin.
In truth Hanna smelled many things.That day at the market she smelled the warm aroma of fresh bread, standing mid stride by the fruitstand at the deli. The vision she had had was that of her Nana, baking rolls for dinner, Hannah knew it was time to hurry home.
i don’t condone drunk driving but i dont get personally offended by it. really if society wants to be so against drunk driving they should institute some better delivery services.
James The Polar Bear