The absurdities of youth--or, Cleaning out the closet

So I've been going through all my junk in prepartion for my move to Chicago in less than a month. Currently, I'm just figuring what's pure junk that I can just throw away, what's not quite so junky that I can dontate somewhere or sell at a garage sell, or what's stuff I actually want to keep.

Part of this latter category includes a subcategory of "stuff that isn't junk to me but will be junk to whoever has to clean out my junk when I'm dead." Today, I found a bunch of stuff that falls in this subcategory, mostly very humorous early attempts at writing. I had completely forgotten that when I was about nine or ten years old, I had made a series of "books," which I called Book Quest (see left), based on the Choose Your Own Adventure series. Only, if I recall correctly, the Choose Your Own Adventure books had more than one way to finish, meaning that you could achieve the book's "goal" in more than one fashion. In other words, there was more than one way to slay a dragon. Not Book Quest! In the three finished Book Quest books,* there were myraid ways to die (see right), but only one way to "beat the book," as I called it. Now that I actually remember having created the books in the first place, I seem to have another memory of a very frustrated aunt who refused to finish reading my books because she kept dying in them. Sigh. At least her negative attitude didn't stifle my creativity--or rather, my desire to be creative--as my closet full of crappy childhood stories proves.

I also found someting that I think isn't half bad, but then I was much older when I wrote it (seveenteen) and I have a sort of skewed sense of humor to begin with. Remember the "Fuzzy Wuzzy" rhyme? "Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear, Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair, Fuzzy Wuzzy wasn't very fuzzy--was he?" Or something like that. Apparently, on November 9, 1999 (it's so helpful when I date my work!), I decided to write a brief story--what I now would call flash fiction--entitled "The True Story of Fuzzy Wuzzy." Read on, fanbase of four!

And now, we've all heard about that lovable bear, Fuzzy Wuzzy who had no hair. But is that the true story? Sources say otherwise. (CAMERA VIEW: Gradual close-up on Fuzzy's back as he turns his head slowly to the camera to reveal a sinister snarl complete with elongated fangs and demonic, glowing red eyes.) Find out what Fuzzy's true side is in the (trumpet fanfare) RANDOM RHYME OF THE FORTNIGHT!** (Caution: May not be suitable for young children.)

Fuzzy Wuzzy was a were-bear.
Fuzzy Wuzzy hated Care Bears.
So Fuzzy Wuzzy took his chainsaw
That went buzzy buzzy and he--

(CAMERA VIEW: Clip of pastel fur flying everywhere, occasional glimpses of gore-encrusted chainsaw, abruptly cut-off cries of "Care Bear Stare!" and maniacal laughter throughout.)

Leading people to ask, "Was Fuzzy insane? Was he?"
One thing's for sure:
Fuzzy no longer inspires "fuzzy wuzzies in your tummy," does he?

Well, it made me chuckle, anyway.

At any rate, this treasure trove of junk-to-everybody-but-me will likely ensure that I have somethingto post for quite some time, since I'm never averse to a little humorous self-deprecation. Keep visiting, fanbase; along with the stories, I found a bunch of journals.

*There was a fourth, unfinished Book Quest book, which I can only assume would have followed the same policy of "Death! Death to you! Mwa-ha-ha-ha!" and which I know had several aspects blatantly ripped-off from the King's Quest series of adventure computer games. Plagiarism at an early age!

**I have no memory of actually coming up with a random rhyme every fortnight. My guess is that I simply thought it was a clever title for a fake television show, since it featured alliteration.