R.W. Ridley's Blog, page 22

Lou’s Diary – Entry 24 (text version)

The boy would not stop signing his lies so I tied his hands together.  He screeched and stomped his feet around the cabin until he wore himself out and sat down in the corner.  I laughed at him the whole time just to irritate the crap out of him.

When he was settled down enough to listen, I pulled up a small empty crate in front of him and opened Floyd’s diary.  I was determined to make the boy see the truth about the Gore.  They were good and noble creatures.  He was wrong about them.  He had to stop lying about them.

I flipped through the book at random and stopped on a page.  Setting the book down to free my hands, I signed to him that he would now hear about the real Gore, and he would be sorry for ever harming them.  Then I signed what Floyd had written.

“I followed a small group of Gore to an abandoned house last week.  At least I thought it was abandoned.  It turns out there was a family hiding in the basement.  The Gore piled themselves up on the front lawn and waited.

I picked a spot across the street from the house and watched.  A day went by, and nothing happened.  The second day, still nothing.  But, on the third day a young girl came out of the house.  She was fixated on the neatly stacked piles of Gore on her lawn.  She stared for a few minutes and then went back inside, only to come back out a few minutes later and continue her staring.  She stared for what must have been an hour and then went back inside, again only to come back out and stare some more.  This time she stayed, gazing at the Gore, until nightfall.

There were screams coming from the house all through the night.

The next morning she emerged from the house carrying something in her arms.  I couldn’t see what it was at first.  She carried it like one carries a stack of firewood.  She bent down and dropped the object in front of one of the Gore.  She said something to the pile, but she was too far away for me to hear.  She went back inside the house.

I rushed across the street and maneuvered around the Gore she had been talking to and saw the object she carried out of the house.  A freshly-cut human leg.

She came back out of the house carrying more limbs just as she had carried out the leg.  These were smaller body parts.  I hid myself behind a pile of Gore nearby and watched as she set the limbs on the ground.

“These are from my brother,” she said.  “He’s thankful that you asked for them, and he’s happy that you will have them now.  He told me to tell you that you can have his head, too, if you need it.”  She smiled and walked back into the house.

I stopped signing to the boy, and read the passage to myself.  I couldn’t believe what I was reading.  Floyd was a bigger liar than the boy.

Lou’s Diary – Entry 24

Making money on Youtube

Did you know that the Youtubes (that’s how we old folks say it) isn’t just an ideal place to waste time and make you feel lousy about humanity?  You can also make money making other people feel lousy about humanity.  You could try to inspire them, but unfortunately I don’t think you’ll bring in much cash with those kinds of videos.

Or you could make educational videos like Olinselot.  In fact, his video featured here today explains how you can make money on the Youtubes.  In case you’re wondering, Lou’s Diary entries have made… zilch.  I may have to up my game and do something outrageous to attract more viewers.  Feel free to leave suggestions below.

Lou’s Diary – Entry 23 (text version)

This is the lie the boy told today.

He watched his father kill his mother.  His father made him.  He wanted to show the boy how the Gore wanted it done.

‘You have to plan,’ The boy’s father said.  ‘You can’t just bash them in the head or stab them through the heart, little Minnow.  They have to be kept alive as long as possible while you remove the treasures.’

The boy said the  treasures are the parts you’re made of.  Your head, your arms, your heart, your legs, your feet, those are the treasures the Gore want.  They need them to stay alive.

None of them are more important than the hands.  The hands are the ultimate treasure.  The hands are what they need most, but they want happy hands.   Happy, happy hands.”

Happy hands are hands that are given willingly.  A person needs to give up their own hands to the Gore as much as the Gore needs them.

The boy said his father tied him to a chair and sat his mother in front him.  She had a smile on her face.  The boy called it a goofy smile.

“Don’t be afraid,” she signed.  “This is the happiest day of my life.  I get to give my treasures to the Gore.  The beautiful, perfect Gore.  It is a great day, little minnow.  And soon, when you’re old enough, and your hands are big and strong, you’ll have treasures to give, and you’ll join me.  And it will be your happiest day, too.”

Those were the last words she signed before his father grabbed hold of her arm, placed it on the table and started to cut through the skin, muscle, tendons and bones of the wrist.  He used a sawing motion at first, but his own hand cramped up, so he hacked away.

His mother cried and laughed and screamed and begged her husband to cut faster.  Not because she was in pain – she was, terrible, horrific pain – but because she wanted the Gore to have her treasures as quickly as possible.  She didn’t want to make them wait.  It was so cruel to make them wait.

His father took the next two days to remove the rest of the boy’s mother’s treasures.  The boy watched from his chair, or at least it looked like he did.  He talked about hiding in a little room in his brain through most of it.

This is the lie the boy told today.

Lou’s Diary – Entry 23

Lou’s Diary – Entry 22 (text version)

He’s deaf.  The boy cannot hear a thing.  He had this back to me, and I dropped a piece of firewood on the floor.  It made a loud thumping noise, but the boy didn’t flinch at all.  I stood behind him and clapped over and over as loud as I could trying to get a reaction out him, but he just stood there.

I moved in front of him and signed my name.  He looked frightened at first, but a smile slowly spread across his face.  I signed my name again and asked him his.  After a few seconds of staring at me, he eventually signed minnow.

Confused, I asked him his name again. He repeated the word minnow.  “Your real name,” I insisted.  He signed minnow once again.

I asked him if the man was his father.  “A friend,” he signed.  “My father is dead.”

“How?” I asked.

“The everything monsters.”

“Everything monsters?”

He signed, “The things made of different creatures.  They killed my father.”

I got angry and told him he was lying.

He shook his head and signed.  “They killed him and ripped him from limb to limb so they could share his body parts.”

I fought the urge to smack him. “What about your mother?”

He hesitated and then signed, “My father killed her.”

I laughed and signed, “It sounds like your father deserved to die.”

Angered, he signed, “My father killed my mother, chopped her up and gave her pile of body parts to the everything monsters.  They made him do it.”

I yelled, “Shut up!” And then signed that the creatures he called the everything monsters would never do something like that.  They were good and pure and caring.  They weren’t monsters at all.

He growled and signed.  “That’s what they want you to think.”

I screamed as loud as I could just inches from his face.  He started to sign something, but I grabbed his hands and pushed him backwards.  I signed “Shut up.”  Before he could lift his hands to respond. I stomped out of the cabin and stood on the deck.  The boy was a liar, and liars deserved to die.

Lou’s Diary – Entry 22

No entry for Lou’s Diary this week

I recorded and edited the entry for Lou’s diary this week and then I turned on the TV where I learned about the horrible tragedy at the elementary school in Connecticut.  I’ve decided it would be in poor taste  to upload this week’s entry given that violence and despair are major components of Lou’s diary.  Add to that, many young people are readers of the Oz Chronicles, and I just feel it would be irresponsible to post the entry. True, it is fictional violence in a made up world, but nonetheless it would be insensitive to make it available for viewing at this time.  I will resume the diary entries next Friday.

I’ll end with this post with a quote from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory

For some moments in life there are no words.

Dr. Sykes hasn’t even begun DNA testing yet

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“Yes, I have no DNA test results.”

A few bloggers are reporting that Dr. Sykes has been getting test results that more or less match Dr. Ketchum’s results.  It’s not true for one very simple reason.  He hasn’t even begun testing samples yet.  The problem with bloggers is we sometimes use other bloggers as sources.  Worse yet, we report the chatter on messageboards as facts.  BAD BLOGGERS!

This is information comes straight from Dr. Jeff Meldrum on Facebook.

Well, I was on the phone with Bryan just a couple of days ago and he had not yet begun testing. When he does, he intends to do the initial screening with mtDNA loci. So the alleged leak story is vacuous.

Everybody just settle down. This will all be over soon. And please remember, soon is a relative term.

Lou’s Diary – Entry 21 (Text version)

The boy came to, but he hasn’t said a word.  I don’t know what to do with him.  He won’t tell me about the pond, the man he’s with, the Gore… he won’t say a word.  It’s so frustrating.  I should hurt him.  I should punch him and kick him and break his fingers until he talks.

I should, but I can’t.  I don’t know what’s wrong with me.  I’m so weak.  I want to help the Gore.  I want to serve them, but the things I have to do… I’m not like that.  They don’t understand.  They’re in my head telling me to do these terrible things, not because they’re terrible… they’re not.  They’re perfect. They’re beautiful.  They’re the only thing that matters.  I know that.  I believe that with all my heart.

But he’s just a boy.  He’s so small.  How can I hurt him?

I should.  I know I should.  He means nothing.  He’s worse than nothing.  He’s an enemy to the Gore. The Gore’s enemy is my enemy.  He dares to harm the Gore.  I must make him pay.

But I can’t.

I can’t!  I can’t! I can’t!

I am Lou.  I help people.  I don’t hurt them.  I may not be real, but I do have a purpose.  And that purpose isn’t to kill little boys.  I don’t care how evil they are.  They don’t deserve to die.  Or at least, I’m not worthy enough to kill them.

The problem is I don’t know what to do with him now.  I can’t let him go.  He’ll tell the man about me, and they’ll come after me.  They’ll kill me, and I won’t be able to serve the Gore.  I have to live for them.

I know.  I’ll give him to the Gore.  I’ll take him into the woods tonight, and I’ll wait for the Gore.  They’ll take him.  They’ll know what to do with him.  They will make him pay for what he’s done.

It’s the perfect solution.  I won’t be responsible for what happens to the boy if the Gore kill him, and I will have helped the Gore at the same time.  It is the perfect plan.