Michigan Boy Totally Kills Like 25 Ninjas

05/11/2011 at 11:34 pm | Posted in Literarily Yours | Leave a comment

This is a story created by Indianapolis author Corey Jefferson.  He is a regular contributor to this site’s Literarily Yours feature.

Michigan Boy Totally Kills Like 25 Ninjas

In the news, you often hear stories about people who came up against incredible odds, who dug deep inside of themselves to do something that no one thought the loser capable of, who may have even managed to somehow save a life or two, people largely regarded by society as heroes.  But we all know that those jerks aren’t real heroes.  Real heroes fight evil, often in the form of ninjas, and usually kill someone.  Kevin Berger, 12, of Midland, Michigan is one such hero.

It was an early morning first period algebra class just like Berger had been to every day for the last semester.  Mr. Close was blathering on about something in a manner that caused him to resemble the canter of a derriere.  Kids were either doodling SpongeBob in their Meads or drooling drool on their JanSports.  Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until, out of nowhere, like 25 ninjas burst in through the windows of the classroom and attempted to kidnap a student, Connie Bluth, 13, who had just moved to Midland and captured the heart of every boy in the 7th grade.  Like a true hero, Berger snapped into action, using his latent kung fu skills to kill or repel every last ninja.  By his own account, Berger was a tornado of brutality, snapping limbs and necks, throwing ninjas out windows.   They were so totally impressed by his awesomeness, that any ninjas who were smart enough to realize this and turn around before their necks were snapped, leapt back out of the window, lucky to escape with their lives.

“It was nothing,” commented a modest Berger while giving his account of the attack.  “I don’t consider myself a hero, I just feel sorry for everyone who ever called me a nerd.”  When asked if he was concerned about reprisal from the ninjas, Berger said, “No, because ninjas are intelligent and creatures of honor.  When they know that an enemy has bested them, they respect that integrity and avoid him out of noble esteem.”

This unbelievable story was collaborated by Berger’s best friend Joey Bishop.  “Yeah, uhh,” reported Bishop.  “Kevin was, like, awesome.  Hey, Kevin, do I get that Pokemon Black now?”

The real tragedy of this story is that instead of being raised up as the true hero that he so obviously is, Berger has endured more scrutiny and ridicule that ever.  Sources indicate that this may be due to the wide-spread jealousy and systematic sabotage of Berger’s intellect and kung fu skills.

“Everyone’s always been jealous of my Kevvie’s brains.  He’s had it hard being so smart,” said Berger’s mother, Judy, as she lay on a truly comfortable-looking sectional downing yet another handful of pills and swallow of whiskey.

Many school officials have declined to comment on the incident, probably due to the embarrassment of their inability to protect children from ninjas.  No ninja corpses have been found, as ninjas always carry off their dead and Mr. Close, like an evil, revisionist tyrant, has gone so far as to deny the entire incident outright.  As Connie Bluth was asleep on her desk, undisturbed thanks to the bravery and fighting prowess of Berger, she too was unable to comment on the attack.

Due to the suppression of apparent facts, the citizens of Midland may never fully embrace the hero that resides in their midst, ever vigilant, always watching through thick glasses.  However, he should rest assured that, for those people who do know about his heroism, he will be appreciated and revered always.  Unfortunately, as of yet, Connie Bluth is not reported to be among those people.

Just when you thought Kevin Berger couldn't get any more awesome

Chubby Italian Plumber Goes On Kill Crazy Rampage

03/17/2011 at 4:47 pm | Posted in Literarily Yours | Leave a comment

This is a story created by Indianapolis author Corey Jefferson.  He will be a regular contributor to this site’s Literarily Yours feature.


Chubby Italian Plumber Goes On Kill Crazy Rampage

          The Mushroom Kingdom was shocked on Monday by a violent rampage that left dozens dead and many more injured.  According to authorities, the rampage began early Monday morning when a local plumber by the name of Mario Mario started tearing through the Mushroom Kingdom, stomping on innocent bystanders and smashing bricks with his head as he went.  Mario’s only previous criminal record is an animal cruelty charge for his treatment of his pet gorilla.  It is unclear what exactly precipitated these attacks, however there is some preliminary speculation that it may be somehow linked to the recent kidnapping of Princess Toadstool.  The incident went on for the better part of two hours, until Mario was finally stopped.         

        “Well, obviously we have a maniac in the Mushroom Kingdom,” said Antoine, a pipe-dwelling Piranha Plant who witnessed some of the melee.  “He’s climbing on your platforms, he’s snatching your people up, trying to stomp them so y’all need to hide your kids, hide your wives, and hide your husbands, because he’s stomping everybody out here.”
          “It was horrifying,” says Alouicious Goomba, a local area Goomba.  “I was just minding my own business, walking aimlessly back and forth between two pipes as we Goombas are wont to do, when this hellion came bounding over a pipe, stomping all over the place.  Fortunately he passed me by, but the two Goombas I was with were flattened like pancakes.  It just happened so fast.  I was sure I was going to die.”

The last picture Greg De Stefano would ever take

          Montgomery, a local Koopa Troopa was one of the first creatures victimized by Mario.  Choking back sobs, he gave this haunting account: “I was just strolling through Mushroom Kingdom with my wife and before I even knew what was going on, he had stomped me, effectively knocking me into my shell.  Then he kicked me.  Even though I was spinning and dazed, I could see what was happening through my shell.  I saw myself barreling toward my wife.  My own wife.  Oh, God…”
          “He had to be on drugs,” Montgomery continued after regaining his composure.  “The way he was just smashing bricks with his head with no thought to anyone’s safety or well being, including his own.  To just slam your head through brick after brick like that, he had to be on meth or PCP or something.”
          Mario’s brother, Luigi Mario, has been detained by police for questioning for his possible involvement with the incident.  He maintains that Mario was simply attempting to rescue the missing Princess Toadstool, who he claims is being held by respected local businessman Bowser.  Nothing has been substantiated as yet, however there are some reports that a number of Toads have come forward claiming to have been held captive by Bowser.  Police continue to investigate the possible link with Princess Toadstool, but no scenario thus far presented explains the viciousness of Mario’s blood-soaked murder frenzy.  At one point he even obtained a fire flower and was carelessly flinging balls of fire all over the kingdom.
          “I’m just glad our shells are fire retardant,” said Mordecai, a Buzzy Beetle who was at a park with his Buzzy Beetle children when Mario came through, tossing fire around indiscriminately.  “The poor Spiny family next to us wasn’t so lucky.  They all got hit, tossed upside down, and fell right off the screen.  It was awful.  My children shouldn’t have to see that.  Someone needed to do something about that fat, little harbinger of death.”
          Mordecai wasn’t alone in his frustration.  Two other citizens decided that Mario had to be stopped and took matters into their own hands.  Ichabod Hammer and his brother Ignatious, known affectionately by locals as the Hammer Brothers, anticipated Mario’s berserker trajectory, took a position ahead of him in his path, and armed themselves with an endless supply of hammers.  “The police just couldn’t catch up to him so me and my brother decided we’d just stop him on our own.  We’d just whack him with some hammers and be done with it.  Unfortunately, it didn’t go like we hoped.”
          “I heard the fast, hectic music first,” continued Ichabod.  “When he came over the hill he was glowing and flashing.  I knew the instant I saw him that it was over.  His face was just a tableau of rageful determination, piercing me with those staring, feral eyes.  Our hammers just bounced off of him.  He ran right through us, running over my brother and killing him.  He’s the mustachioed incarnation of hate dressed up in red overalls.  Damn him to Hell!”
          The terror finally ended when police were able to surround Mario as he sat atop a flagpole.  They warned him to surrender himself, but he defiantly gobbled down a mushroom, inexplicably doubled in size, and charged them.  Police were forced to open fire, shooting Mario to death.

Artist's rendering of what the fracas probably looked like

Literarily Yours

03/16/2011 at 10:14 pm | Posted in Literarily Yours | Leave a comment
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Literarily Yours is the section where short stories will be presented on a monthly basis. 

This will be a combination of old and new stories; some one-off entries & some with multiple parts; there may be poems thrown in there as well.

If you want to submit your writing, email them to me at iamnoahjames@yahoo.com

My ultimate goal is to have this section become a community of up-and-coming writers.  So send in your stories, poems, op-eds, etc!

Our first guest piece will be coming soon!!

Eight Years Young

01/19/2010 at 2:41 pm | Posted in Literarily Yours | 1 Comment

            In a moment, two worlds will collide.  The armies are assembled and ready to fight.  Each side has a different purpose, different reason of being.  They have tolerated each other in the past, but not today.  Today they are ready to engulf the other, to dominate the flat world that they inhabit.  They know that only one can ultimately survive, so they prepare for the final battle. 

            Without warning, the green army strikes, surrounding the white army; yet, the white hold their ground.  All of a sudden, a third party swoops in, dividing the two opposing sides.  The white army is now on the other side of a barrier from the green.

            My name is Joshua, and I hate when my food mixes.  Especially my mashed ‘tatos and peas.  Gross.

            Let me introduce myself better.  I am Joshua Mourney.  I live on Tumulton  Road in Kalamazoo, Michigan, with my mom and dad.  My mom is a nurse at a hospital.  My dad works in business.  I am not sure what he does, but he once told me that he has some people under him.  I don’t know.  Maybe that means he has an office on a higher floor than others.  I like to play sports and ride my bike.  But mostly I love Masters of the Universe.  It is so cool to see how the good guy can beat Skeletor!  Some day when I grow up, I want to be just like He-Man.  He is so brave and knows just what to do.  I wish that I could be strong like that right now… 

            I have short, blond hair, with blue eyes. 

            Oh yeah, I’m also eight.  Eight years young.  Man, I love that term.  I got it from an old lady from church.  It’s funny, cuz she always says that she is 90 years young, but no one speaks up to let her know that she is really old.  One time, I wanted to ask her if she had ever met Jesus, but mom laughed and said that the old lady wasn’t that old.  But I’m not so sure.  You’d think that if he was so special, she would remember back when she was little and he was preachin’ and stuff.  I dunno.  I just like the term because it makes me feel energetic and happy. 

            Also, I like it because I don’t like saying eight years old.  I don’t want to be old.  When you are old, you cry for no reason.  I mean, when you fall off a bike, it’s ok to cry because it hurts.  And when there is a spider, it’s ok because it is scary.  But old people just cry without a reason.  Like when I asked my mom one time in the car when dad was going to be around, she just started crying at the red light.  I didn’t mean to make her cry.  Honest!  I just hadn’t seen him in a long time.  Actually, I haven’t even been home for awhile.  We’ve been living with grandma for a month now. 

            The last I remember being home, I was upstairs playing with my He-Man play-set.  I got thirsty, so I went down to get a drink of juice.  As I came close to my mom and dad’s room I heard shouting.  My mom said, “I will never again sleep in the same bed that she was in!”  I still don’t understand that.  Mom had slept in that bed every day since I was born.  Why wouldn’t she sleep in it again tonight?  Maybe she likes to wash the sheets every day.  I don’t know. 

            I walked to the kitchen and got some apple juice; my mom came in soon after.  Her smile looked weird with her teary face and messy brown hair.  It was like she was sleep-walking.  She asked me if I wanted to visit grandma.  Of course I did!  I love her candy, and she always slips me things.

            But now we’ve been here a month.  You know what I found out?  The candy that grandma used to give me runs out after about two days.  I think she’s not used to kids who stay for a long time.  Instead, I am at the table, playing with my peas and mashed ‘tatos, wondering why my mom doesn’t smile anymore.


12/31/2009 at 3:36 pm | Posted in Literarily Yours | 3 Comments

            She keeps staring at me.  Her eyes bore a hole through my head.  I can feel the heat from her glance, warming my face.  Immediately, I second guess if I am correct that it is me who she wants.  In other circumstances, I would be totally comfortable with her.  However, it is just the two of us; no one else is anywhere close by.

            She lustfully watches me, guessing my every move.  Her sleek, sensual body moves in a little closer every minute.

            Her recent presence in my life has made me feel in a way that I have never felt before.  I feel excited, full of anticipation, nervous…and afraid.  I don’t want to fail this.  All of a sudden, this has become the most important, crucial moment of my life.  I have to do this right.  She alone will be the factor that molds my future life.  By the look in her eyes, I can tell she is fully aware of this.  While she is naked, her dark-skinned body glows with confidence.  As the moon lights up her elegant figure, she looks even more beautiful…and deadly. 

            Now we are dancing; only, we are not touching, not holding each other.  We are still a distance from one another, moving in a circle.  A dance of love, desire, hate.  I would like to make her believe that I am leading the dance, but she knows better.  She knows that I am following her, step by step.  She knows that I dare not fall behind.  Her eyes gleam with affection, trying to soothe my anxious heart.  She tries to convince me everything will be alright by erotically licking her lips and smiling a big, bright smile.  Not convinced, I continue dancing to our tempo.  Any outside world ceases to exist.

            While they are unspoken, we both have deep desires.  However, my desire is not the same as hers.  She desires me and is convinced that she will have me for her only.  I don’t feel the same way, but it is too late for that.  At this point, I have to go through the motions.  She knows that I don’t desire her the way she does me, but she doesn’t care.  She wants me more than anyone has ever wanted me.  She will have me.

            From the first moment we met, our eyes never lost contact.  They have been glued to each other ever since, and that won’t change now.  I can’t let it.  If I drop my eyes and lose sight of her, I will die.  In her, my life is held on eggshells.  Without her visual presence, I will soon drop dead, falling into oblivion.  I understand this more and more every time I blink and see her passionate eyes looking into my own.

            Then she makes her move.  I try to say something, but she springs into my arms, holding me as we gently fall to the ground.  She places her mouth on my cheek, and then looks deeply into my eyes.

            At that moment I realize that she is the first, and last, live panther I will ever see.  And no one will hear me scream.

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