Tag Archives: crazy

STORY TIME

A SPOON’S WORST NIGHTMARE

By Taylor Packer

((This story is from the perspective of a spoon. Contains graphic and disturbing images, language, and mild sexuality. Definitely not suitable for children under the age of 13.))

My name is Hogarth Cumbercorn. I’m a spoon. To be more specific, I’m an Oneida Michaelangelo Flatware Spoon from the Patterns for a Lifetime series. I’m often described as curvaceous and ornate, donning 18/10 stainless steel polished to perfection. I am a mirror of the world around me. All that shines onto my concaving and convexing faces is reflected back upon it. I am a perfect spoon.

That’s probably why the human treats the others and I so well. Every morning, I wake to the sight of my human, pulling open the drawer where he lays us to rest at the end of the day. I’m his favorite spoon. I’m one of a kind among these 12/10 stainless steels and colored plastics. I was even his favorite over the baby spoon he had since he was an infant. The way I fit into his mouth is like unto a tailored glove fits around a perfect hand. I’m the perfect hand, of course. My God-given body came without fingers so that none of my human’s milk and cereal could spill away. The milk was always cool, but never frigid. And just before it got too cold, he would warm me with his tongue. He was always so gentle; so careful to keep his teeth away from my mirror-like surface. He nicked me once, but I forgave him. He couldn’t hear me, of course, but he knows.

Today, after breakfast, he washed me by hand the way he always does. He rinsed me in warm water and ran his soapy hands along my body, cleaning me, purifying me. It was like my soul was being cleansed by the ritual of baptism. After I am washed and rinsed, he lifts me out of the sink and dries me with a towel. The towel was coarse at first, but once our wet forms pressed against it, it softens; almost as soft, warm, and wet as his mouth. He set me back in my drawer and his smile reflected off of me, smiling back at him.

I thought that would be the end of it. But it wasn’t…

I was woken from my slumber by a rumble. The drawer we were lying in shook violently. Something was happening. The wall was groaning and the knives were sliding all over themselves. What was happening?

Sudden silence took hold. All of the other utensils quivered slightly, but I stayed still, trying to listen for my human. The drawer suddenly jerked open and the harsh mid-day light stung us, glinting off our bodies like fire. It was blinding so blinding that I couldn’t see who had opened the drawer. I felt a huge hand grope all of the spoons and myself into a tight fist. I was lifted out of the drawer. It was Human. What was he doing? Why was he so angry? What had I done?!

He turned to the sink and that’s when I was taken aback. In the place of one of the cupboards, there was a box. It was stainless steel, but sheered to look more industrial; soulless. I happened to catch a glance at something near the base of its opening maw. It was a metal name tag that read “May-hag” or something. It opened wide for us as would the gates of hell and I saw row upon row of wire strainers and small cages protruding from skeletal shelves. I was shoved face-down into a small crate with the others. I tried to see between the curves of the others, but their panic made it impossible to reason with them. I could only reflect their fear. I heard and felt the forks follow suit; that is, they were crammed into a tiny crate as well. Then the knives. What the hell was happening?!

Then I heard and felt loud clanks. Plates? Bowls? Human was shoving everyone in this metal box. In the panic, I hadn’t had time to notice the smell. It smelled of iron and terror. This couldn’t be happening. All of us were trapped in this box, unable to understand why this new and twisted chamber had become our resting place. I tried to stay calm. Surely this was temporary. Human wouldn’t abandon us to this crammed, cold, clammy box. He wouldn’t. He loved us. He loved me. That’s when I heard laughter.

He was laughing. Dear God, Human was laughing! It made me feel sick, like I would sprout rust just by the sound of it. He closed the box, leaving us in total darkness. I could hear the concerned mutterings of the others. Everyone was panicking. Four years of being cared for and all of a sudden, we were here, in total darkness. Had it all been a lie? Had it all been a ploy to gain our trust?

Searing hot water blasted us from out of nowhere. Everyone screamed. I screamed. Liquid fire was trying to carve away my shiny surface. My skin… My skin was burning! It was being sanded off by the pressure. I could hear the baby spoon wailing, coughing, drowning. What sick monster would do this? The water stopped spraying and we could all breathe again. I wanted to find Baby Spoon and cover him, spoon him, keep him safe from whatever might come next. I wiggled against the others, but we were too tightly packed. I could hear the knives sobbing. They were always the emotional ones, but this time I just wanted to cry with them.

I caught of a whiff of boiling soap. This wasn’t over.

Scalding lava-water exploded around us, gyrating and twirling in a dance of death, hosing us down with a foul, waxy sanitizing agents. I could feel some of the plastic spoons shudder as their skins peeled away from their gooey, plastic flesh. They were melting. They were melting against me! I would screamed, but their plastic melted over my face. What horror! What horror!!!

The soapy water was replaced with the regular magma-water. I was able to push my way through the semi-solid corpses of my fallen spoon-brothers to get to Baby Spoon, but he was gone. There was no sign of him. He must have fallen through the holes in the bottom of the grate. I couldn’t hear him cry anymore. The water stopped and left us all in a burning steam. I could hear the bowls crying, the plates whimpering. The knives had gone silent.

Light crashed into the torture chamber and I saw the human smiling. The bastard was actually smiling! I was so angry, and so afraid. All I could think to do was play dead. He reached into the grates and pulled all the spoons free. He muttered a few curse words and peeled the dead semi-solid spoons from our group. I saw him toss them in the trash as if they were nothing. True, I was the greatest of his spoons, but dammit, they were spoons too! They were spoons too, you MONSTER!

Human tossed us haphazardly into our familiar drawer, one utensil type at a time, whistling as he went. Once we were all in our proper places, he slammed the drawer closed, leaving us alone. I was finally able to cry. I wept and the other spoons did too. We held one another close and mourned our losses. Half the plastics… and even poor, sweet Baby Spoon was gone. We were betrayed by our human.

We know it’s only a matter of time before Human kills us all. The Forks are planning to take him out tonight, after he goes to sleep. We know it’s a suicide mission, but justice must be wrought. There was talk of throwing him into the death box and cooking him alive, but we voted against that. Besides…. Revenge is a dish best served cold.

[[Thanks for reading, everyone. You’re fantastic. If you liked it, go ahead and hit “like”. Leave a comment, subscribe, share, the whole shebang. Your support is appreciated. You are what makes this blog possible. Thank you so much!]]

My Job and I

It’s never a good idea to talk about your job in a less-than-positive way on the internet. Perhaps I do so because I want advice, but I’m too prideful to directly ask for it.

I am a retail associate at a fairly large corporation that has stores dotting the United States. The retail industry isn’t hard to get into. You have to have a mostly-working body and be brain-dead and you can land any starting position you can think of. I’ve been doing this ever since I was 18. Five years. What have these five years amounted to career-wise? What have I gained?

Nothing, actually. I mean, I can slap these five years on a resume to help ensure getting yet another entry-level position somewhere else, but that’s about it. Recently I was contacted by several different people working for Vemma and it was rather interesting, but I know my personality. I know I could make it big with their company and probably end up financially independent in less than a year. But doing so requires a lot of effort for something I don’t necessarily have a passion for.

All I know is this: I cannot continue at the job I’m at and expect to be financially independent or emotionally secure. I want to take a risk and “be my own man” and so on. I am not sure what to do or where to go. I haven’t any savings left. My job doesn’t cover my bills and expenses and I drained my savings trying to support myself. The only reason I’m not homeless is because I’m living with my parents. Woot. I’m not okay where I’m at. I need to move forward. I need to move up.

During this time of thought, I remembered watching The Secret. I have to change my perspective, change my attitude, change my everything. The path I set myself on is not going to give me what I want. So I think it’s time I left this road. But where do I go from here? How do I change? Who should I surround myself with? What actions do I need to take? What habits do I need to build? These questions are rumbling around in my head. I’m scared. I’m excited. I can make these changes, I just need guidance.

What Goes Down Must Come Up!

Somewhere in high school, I obtained this strange notion that “no one loved me” and that “I didn’t deserve love” and so on. These small feelings grew and consumed me. Much of my teen years were spent lost in doodling and drawing comics to avoid the pain of reality. As I matured into an adult, these feelings were only magnified. Who was I? Where am I going? What am I doing with myself? Life now stood before me and I was unprepared to take it by storm. Why? Because I had locked it out of my mind during my teen years.

So, what brings this up Taydebear?” you ask. Well, dearest reader, allow me to tell you:

Tonight I was a jerk. I am frequently inconsiderate, but not as bad as I was tonight. Wielding the personality of a turd, I refused to become uplifted by the kindness and generosity of a dear friend. Why? Because I’m stressed. What does that have to do with anything? Everything. Like the Fairies of Neverland, I’m so small that I can only feel one emotion at a time. When I feel it, it’s all consuming. Be this joy, pain, love, hate, or (like it has been for the last two months) STRESS. Stress. What a nasty word. I won’t go into what I did exactly, but let me tell you this: I was mean, downright rude, and inconsiderate to a person who has literally done me no wrong since the moment I met him. I cannot think of a time where he has done anything deliberately or otherwise to hurt or offend me, despite the countless times I have done so to him. I realized this at dinner, which is why I didn’t order anything. I was afraid that if I allowed myself to enjoy the kindness he was offering, I would lose it.

He dropped me off after a painfully long and silent car ride, during which I wanted to scream at him: “I’M SORRY! I’M BEING A DINGUS!” But alas, no such words escaped my gaping noise void. If they had, I would have unleashed all the emotional stress I had been building up over the last two to three months. We pulled up to my house and I got out with a quick “Goodnight” and walked around to the back of the house. I hadn’t even gone through the back gate before I started to feel overwhelmingly sad. I spent the next half hour bawling my eyes out behind my house. I fell into a dark place that I haven’t been in in several years. It was so real, so unnerving. My dad found me and we hugged. He, my mom, and I all sat down in their room and talked long and hard about what I’m dealing with.

I told them my worries, my griefs, and my pains. After I got it all out, they offered comfort, tough love, and genuine compassion. They assured me that they weren’t going anywhere, that they’d help me through whatever this nonsense is. My goal to move out is still soon, but maybe not so far as originally intended. We are doing this as a team. Those are my parents. They love their children unconditionally. They give and give and give, hoping to help me grow. They may not have done a perfect job, but they did all they could, and by golly… It’s enough for me.

As to the man I spoke of earlier. I did text him back and apologize. Profusely. And while I feel he has forgiven most of my stupidity, he still hurts from the things I said and did. I must address this man and his character, as I feel I have not captured the truth behind this individual…

This man, who shall remain nameless, might not know what he means to me. (Don’t get your undies in a twist or anything. I’m not talking romantically. Weirdos) He is the kind of person that I met at my brightest time, and he shined brightly with me. We took the world and all its woes in our stride and we have both grown in many ways since we first met. It’s been inspiring to watch his transformation. This man, time and time again, has proven that when he says he wants me to be happy, he means it. This goes back to the beginning… I didn’t deserve love. Especially right now. I behaved like an uncultured swine. Some village somewhere had lost their idiot. It was profoundly disappointing. My behavior, short and simple, was unacceptable. As an adult, as a human being. And yet… even now… He still cares for me. How? Why? I don’t understand. I can’t understand. I mean, sure, I love everybody I come into contact with. I even love those really annoying customers who yell at me for doing my job. I mean, I don’t THANK them for that, but still. We’re all family, right? But why me? What did I do to deserve it?

I don’t know, but dang… I’m sure glad I did it. Mom and Dad and I are working on getting me some professional help. We’re seeking a good doctor who will give me some perspective and maybe some meds. And I’m so excited! Guys! I’m going to be sane soon! The good kind of sane! There’s this stupid stigma with mental illness and such, but people need to get over themselves, admit they have some issues, and go work on them. I told y’all this was the year of the Tay! I am going to rise up to the challenge. I’m going to be living in a new place, with a new job(s), starting my career, building my company, finishing my movie, and hey, maybe – HOPEFULLY – making the world a better place. I know I can do this. I know I can conquer this, or at the very least, I can learn to handle it. You guys have no idea what you’re all capable of.

Be brave, my lovely, powerful readers. Be strong. Life is going to be hard. Life is going to have some sucky moments. But there are people out there who love you, no matter what. And love you, no matter what.

Remember: what goes down must come up. And if you’re going to dream, dream BIG!

I’m Awesome. You’re Awesome.

Here’s something I’ve learned over the years: I am nothing like the rest of the world. I am weird. I am odd. I am different than everyone else.

Here’s something else I’ve learned: You are nothing like the rest of the world. You are weird. You are odd. You are different than everyone else.

In a way, this makes us similar. Each of us have our own struggles and if we start comparing one struggle to another, we’re just breeding envy and other such nonsense. Anxiety, depression, bad home life, no job, loss of a loved one, disease, hunger; the list goes on and on. We are all subject to these torments.

So what?

Okay, so occasionally we succumb to our faults and we have really crappy days. I can list many-a-time when I’ve wanted to throw my hands in the air, laugh hysterically, and march out the door while singing “I QUIT!” in the most flamboyant of ways possible. There are days where I hide in my bed and pray that I am going to be okay. You know what the worst thing is you can say to someone who is in that state of mind? “It’s going to be okay.” I dunno about you, but that never helped me. That just made me go “well, crap. Now I have to make everything okay.” Someone said something else to me this morning that hit me so profoundly. Maybe I’m a narcissist, but it worked.

“Hey, you are awesome.”

It came out of the blue. There was no warning or prerequisite. (He doesn’t read this blog either) It stuck me so profoundly and so quickly that I responded immediately: “Not to sound arrogant, or ungrateful, but I know. You’re right. I am awesome. Thank you for reminding me.” I am so grateful this person said that to me. Because you know what? I am awesome. I am awesome. No one ever told me that in High School. I’ve been out of high school for 5 years and in those years I’ve come to understand the truth that this person randomly told me. I am awesome. And If I can be awesome, so can you.

I’m a man with enough faults to cause an earthquake, and yet I’m awesome. You’re awesome too. You have to believe that. You are awesome. So what if you’re lazy? So what if you’re sick? So what if you’re poor? So what?! You’re awesome! And that’s a great thing. Now go and use your awesomeness! Rise to the challenge and make a difference in this world! You’re awesome. And you always will be.

Remember, if you’re going to dream, dream BIG!

I made this in High School.
“If we could see the secret history of our enemies, we should find in each man’s life enough sorrow and suffering to disarm all hostility.” – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow… I made this in High School.

Anxiety Sucks

My family has raised me with the belief that mental illness is just a phase or bad attitude. Because of this, I cannot say for certain that I have some kind of anxiety disorder. I have not seen a doctor, nor do I have the funding to do so. So let me tell you what I know:

When I was no older that 5 or 6, my mom took my little brother and I to McDonalds to play on the playground and I saw him pushing another kid. This made me uncomfortable to the point where I returned to the table and started to silently cry to myself. My mom asked me what was wrong and I angrily said “nothing”. I couldn’t have been more than 6 years old, and yet that memory has burned into my mind.

When I was a little older, my family went to Skateland Roller Derby. It was really fun. We zipped around the rink as cheesy late 90’s early 2000’s music blared overhead. I left the rink, talked with the parents, and decided to go back into the rink. I swung my hand back too far. A little girl with a massive blue icee was standing behind me and my hand hit it, causing it to erupt all over her. She screamed and cried and I sped away. I hid in the bathroom, bawled my eyes out, took of my skates, and started having trouble breathing. Eventually, I calmed down, snuck out, told my parents (who told me to apologize and gave me money to buy a new icee). I found the girl sitting with her parents and I set the slushie on the table… I didn’t have the heart to look them in the eye, but I saw their faces change from angry, to confused. My face was red, snot dripping from my nose, my eyes swollen and wet. I said I was sorry before I marched back into the bathroom. The room was spinning. I felt dizzy and then I threw up into one of the toilets. I hid in that stall for a good twenty or so minutes. I sat in there, still as stone, tears running down my face, thinking I was a horrible person.

Nowadays, when I look back at the things I’ve done that are embarrassing, I can laugh a little. These two memories, though, are just two of the many that make me so sick that I cringe. I feel nauseous just thinking about them. My heart skips a beat, my mind enters fight or flight mode and tries to think and find things to distract me. I stop breathing. I stop being me.

When I tried telling my parents about this, they told me I was being dramatic. To be fair, I’ve been known to add unnecessary flair to my life. But somehow, I think this might be more than that. Last Tuesday, my sister and her friends and I gathered for our weekly dinners. I told a long and drawn out joke that left them confused. The silence shredded my soul into pieces. After dinner, I left and had some kind of panic attack where I had to curl up in the passenger seat of my friend’s car and wait for over half an hour before I felt I could trust myself to drive home. Today, I was supposed to do an event with these same people, but yesterday (Monday), I started feeling uncomfortable. I dreampt a bad dream and tried not to let it get to me. I went the whole day through work without much of a problem. But then I got home and everything came rushing forward. I don’t have a good job, I have no money, these people aren’t interested in this event I thought of, even my friends are ducking out, I have no where to move to at the end of the month, my car is falling apart. All these things seemed to rush in at me for no reason, causing me to cancel tonight’s plans and go into hiding.

I am a laid-back person. I love hanging out with people I don’t know. I love being random and laughing at myself and my foibles and follies. I love being me and not giving a crap about what other people think. But for some reason, I failed to do that two weeks in a row. This has never happened so frequently, but it has happened. It’s rough. I apologize for my lack of posts, updates, and general improvement.

All this being said, I am excited to move out. I am excited to find a new job. I am grateful for all these wonderful new people in my life. I am thrilled to be a part of their lives. I love to laugh with and at my own expense. I love to be with them. And I love all of you. Your support, your enthusiasm, your love has seen me through thick and thin. I am so proud of my peoples. You guys are powerful and you’re going to great places. Many blessings upon all of you. Thank you for your continued patience and support. You mean the world to me.

Much love,

Taylor