Have you ever stopped to look at the Gummy Bear before you shove it, and several others, into your mouth? The tiny gummy feathers are quite detailed. Take a moment to look at the bag of half-eaten candy. It is quite colorful. It does not matter what brand you are currently munching away on, you will never find a blue gummy bear. The smaller companies who have dared to suggest adding a blue bear have been shut down by the Candy Coalition and the Rotten Teeth Alliance. Perhaps now that you are thinking about this, you are wondering if this is a conspiracy. There is an untold story about the blue gummy bear.
The true inventor of the gummy bear candy was Herbert Brockhorse. Though the claim to this wondrously addictive candy was staked by another, decades later. Herbert had only created one mold because of the amount of time it took to engrave the details. This was long before plastic had ever been dreamed of. He was unsure if his product would be a success, so Herbert was content creating each bear individually.
The first gummy bear created was red, and just as delicious as the present-day treat. One by one, each color emerged into existence, with the exception of the blue bear. Herbert had just begun to mix the color when he was called to the town square to testify on the behalf of his stepsister who had been accused of witchcraft.
Herbert and Arianna had always despised each other. When he announced he refused to lie to save the life of a Satan worshiping witch, Arianna became enraged. She was lead to the gallows and a noose was placed around her neck. Before she was executed, Arianna was given a chance to pray to the Christian god for forgiveness and redemption of her soul. Rather than lifting her pleas to Heaven, Arianna cast a curse upon her stepbrother’s soul. She told him that the next blue item he touched would become cursed. No matter what the item was, it would bring the cruse of madness unto the world.
Unfortunately for many, Herbert doubted Arianna’s dark powers and went ahead to complete a batch of blue gummy bears. Perhaps if he had tasted one before sharing them, several men would have been saved from insanity. Upon ingesting the candy, each man immediately fell under a spell of madness, just as Arianna had predicted.
A council was formed to determine a solution for this terrible situation. It was decided upon that Herbert Brockhorse would be forgotten in history. The village people were sworn to secrecy, and all evidence of the creation was destroyed.
The Candy Coalition was formed and worked in secret. They always watched out, intervening in attempts to save the world from the same fate of those many years ago. It wasn’t until 1973 that the Candy Coalition stepped into public light, and even then, their main purpose remained a guarded secret. Details of Arianna’s curse had not leaked out until a few months ago, when somebody posted confidential files on the internet.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Saturday, April 19, 2008
The Life of an STD
My name is Chlamydia. My sisters and mother also are named Chlamydia. My nickname is Clap, although I am not sure exactly how I got it. I was born in the usual way. My mother became a Mother-Cell and constantly grew and divided to create me and my sisters. Nobody is quite sure where the first Mother-Cell came from.
We stayed with Mom until we had enough strength stored up to leave home. That is the most difficult journey of a young Chlamydia cell’s life.
When it came time to leave, Mom sent us off in little groups. We had to swim against a strong current and search for a foreign object with an opening on the tip. I guess instinct lead us to it. It was important to make it there and inside before large round creatures with long swishing tails erupted from the opening.
Only two of my sisters made it inside with me. The others did not make it there in time. Once we were inside, we swam up a long thin tube and found ourselves in the home of the creatures. I learned that like us, they all share one name. Only Sperm could be either a boy or a girl.
After our incredible and exhausting trip, my sisters and I had to wait a few weeks to regain strength before moving on. In this time, many sperm left and were replaced by others who were younger.
When I felt strong enough, I swam out to what Sperm called Pre-ejaculate. This would take me to my new home. This part of my life journey was much easier. All I had to do was allow it to carry me away.
My new home was not as clean and nice as the place I was born. I admit that I was very disappointed to find there were many others already living there. There was not much room, so I was forced to share space with Syphilis. She was rather rude, and acted like she thought she was superior to me. The entire place had an unusual smell that would even bother Gonorrhea, who makes his home anywhere.
Mom told me once I settled in my new home; I would become a Mother-Cell and begin my own family. I just could not imagine raising my children in such a crowded place. So I decided to break the rules and leave.
Once again I made the exhausting trip back to the land of Sperm. It took me longer to recover because I was much older. Although I considered raising my family there, I knew there had to be a better place out there.
Instead of swimming to the Pre-ejaculate flow, I attached myself to Sperm. He constantly babbled about finding some egg. Though I had no idea what he was talking about, I listened with enthusiasm, and hoped that he would find this amazing treasure.
Finally I had found a good home to raise my daughters. It was clean, healthy, and best of all, there were no neighbors. I had just given birth to my first fifty babies when something drastic happened.
For nine days now, I have been attacked by an invisible force that is draining me of my energy. Each day I feel a little weaker. I watched each of my babies die to this enemy. By the third day, I knew that I would never be able to have any more. I am the only one left now. I do not expect to live more than another day. I can feel myself dying more each moment that slowly passes by. All that I can hope is that my place here is remembered.
We stayed with Mom until we had enough strength stored up to leave home. That is the most difficult journey of a young Chlamydia cell’s life.
When it came time to leave, Mom sent us off in little groups. We had to swim against a strong current and search for a foreign object with an opening on the tip. I guess instinct lead us to it. It was important to make it there and inside before large round creatures with long swishing tails erupted from the opening.
Only two of my sisters made it inside with me. The others did not make it there in time. Once we were inside, we swam up a long thin tube and found ourselves in the home of the creatures. I learned that like us, they all share one name. Only Sperm could be either a boy or a girl.
After our incredible and exhausting trip, my sisters and I had to wait a few weeks to regain strength before moving on. In this time, many sperm left and were replaced by others who were younger.
When I felt strong enough, I swam out to what Sperm called Pre-ejaculate. This would take me to my new home. This part of my life journey was much easier. All I had to do was allow it to carry me away.
My new home was not as clean and nice as the place I was born. I admit that I was very disappointed to find there were many others already living there. There was not much room, so I was forced to share space with Syphilis. She was rather rude, and acted like she thought she was superior to me. The entire place had an unusual smell that would even bother Gonorrhea, who makes his home anywhere.
Mom told me once I settled in my new home; I would become a Mother-Cell and begin my own family. I just could not imagine raising my children in such a crowded place. So I decided to break the rules and leave.
Once again I made the exhausting trip back to the land of Sperm. It took me longer to recover because I was much older. Although I considered raising my family there, I knew there had to be a better place out there.
Instead of swimming to the Pre-ejaculate flow, I attached myself to Sperm. He constantly babbled about finding some egg. Though I had no idea what he was talking about, I listened with enthusiasm, and hoped that he would find this amazing treasure.
Finally I had found a good home to raise my daughters. It was clean, healthy, and best of all, there were no neighbors. I had just given birth to my first fifty babies when something drastic happened.
For nine days now, I have been attacked by an invisible force that is draining me of my energy. Each day I feel a little weaker. I watched each of my babies die to this enemy. By the third day, I knew that I would never be able to have any more. I am the only one left now. I do not expect to live more than another day. I can feel myself dying more each moment that slowly passes by. All that I can hope is that my place here is remembered.
The Coaster Crash of 2014
I have spent so many hours with a therapist, trying to rid myself of the nightmares. Sometimes in the silence I hear screams. When a breeze brushes a branch of a tree against the house, I flinch, remembering splinters of wood flying everywhere. There are times when the small scar on my jaw aches like a bleeding wound. Perhaps I have gone crazy. I have asked my doctors this very question many times.
For two years the media has been trying to get my story. I have been hiding behind sedatives, unplugged phones, and locked doors.
Today I stepped into the light, trying hard to convince myself that it was to honor those lost. Deep down I knew that it was time to face my demons. Perhaps if I could overcome this tragedy, the victims could rest in peace. Today I will share my story, of which every detail is burned deep and vivid into my memory.
The day started off a gorgeous typical June morning. The birds were singing and the sun was shining brightly. I was up, dressed, and excited to go to work. Apple Park may have only been a tiny amusement park nestled between condos and resorts on the lake front, but to me it was better than Disney World.
I was ahead of schedule, so I sat down at my computer to check my messages. I only had one; it was from my best friend and co-worker Raymond. “BEWARE-FRIDAY THE 13TH” I glanced at the calendar and sure enough it was the 13th. I had never been superstitious before then.
When I walked into the break room, I found Death sitting at the table. His staff was leaning against the wall next to the time clock. Wearing an Apple Park uniform, he oddly fit in.
In an eerie voice I recognized as Raymond’s, Death spoke to us announcing, “Today is the end of the world.”
It was really odd, because I was accustomed to Raymond’s outrageous and sometimes unexplainable behavior, but a shiver ran down my spine.
The morning went fairly smoothly. I worked as the loader, and Raymond stood at the controls of our locally-famous wooden roller coaster. Everything seemed perfect. Yet, I felt like a tremendous hurricane had somehow formed over the lake. Perhaps somehow I knew something was going to happen.
I took my place at the exit gate, ready for the incoming coaster train. I could feel the vibrations on the deck. I saw Raymond pounding at the break buttons. The coaster was moving too fast, and the break was jammed. I turned towards the track, expecting the coaster to get stuck at the breaks. That is when I saw a board jutting up from the track. From Raymond’s position, he never would have seen it.
Before I could move my lips to call out a warning, the coaster came gliding down the last hill and rammed into the board and frozen breaks. The front car bent the track and broke free, dragging the entire train with it. The cars shook and turned, breaking through the railing and soared thirty feet to the ground where it crashed into the cement. The back three cars slid along their sides and slammed into the concrete building, smashing them and the occupants into the wall. The screams ended in the sound of crunching metal.
I could not move. I could hear Trenton, the Ride’s Department Supervisor, screaming on the radio. I could see Raymond crumpling to the deck in front of the controls. I could not speak or force myself to take a step in any direction.
Still standing on the coaster deck, I watched as a dozen ambulances arrived and left with the sheet-covered remains of the eighteen riders who were scattered through out a jumble of shattered wood and blood. Not a single rider, of which most were children, survived.
The park had been evacuated and police officers from several neighboring towns were holding back a crowd of onlookers and reporters. I felt a light tough on my shoulder and managed to turn to see Trenton standing there. His lips were moving but I heard nothing. Everything had gone deathly silent in my mind, and the only thing present was the sight I was observing.
A paramedic came up to me and shined a light into both eyes, asking me questions I could not hear. All I could do was stare at him. When his gloved hand touched the side of my face I started screaming and could not stop. Tears were falling from my eyes and my whole body began to shake. It felt as if I were inside my mind seeing all this but unable to control my own actions.
I was released from the hospital two days later. That is when I began hiding from the world, unable to cope with the memories. Raymond moved to the Caribbean. The amusement park could never be drained from his blood. He found himself working the Ferris wheel on a small setup on the beach. He has told me several times that when the waves roar just right, he hears that wooden roller coaster. I suppose we will never truly escape.
Today is the two year anniversary of that unfortunate day. Apple Park has been closed all this time. Last year repairs were started on the broken wooden track. There have been several reports from workers stating the ghosts of those who died were watching the reconstruction and were waiting to be set free. The park will reopen tomorrow, but today was reserved for a ceremony held in the victims’ honor.
Trenton was giving the difficult task of calling me and Raymond. The Park Board wanted us to operate the coaster for its ceremonial trip around the track. I am not sure why I agreed. I know my best friend would never step foot on a coaster deck again, so I had to fight both our demons today.
Standing at the controls, I watched as the empty coaster departed from the deck. I swallowed back my tears and held my fingers over the new break controls. I closed my eyes so that I could not see the train coming over the last hill. I was terrified I would see the souls of the passengers from two years ago.
When the empty coaster was stopped successfully on the deck, I felt a weight lift off my soul. A part of me that had been held prisoner for two agonizing years had been set free. I knew it was time to share my and Raymond’s side of this tragic event.
For two years the media has been trying to get my story. I have been hiding behind sedatives, unplugged phones, and locked doors.
Today I stepped into the light, trying hard to convince myself that it was to honor those lost. Deep down I knew that it was time to face my demons. Perhaps if I could overcome this tragedy, the victims could rest in peace. Today I will share my story, of which every detail is burned deep and vivid into my memory.
The day started off a gorgeous typical June morning. The birds were singing and the sun was shining brightly. I was up, dressed, and excited to go to work. Apple Park may have only been a tiny amusement park nestled between condos and resorts on the lake front, but to me it was better than Disney World.
I was ahead of schedule, so I sat down at my computer to check my messages. I only had one; it was from my best friend and co-worker Raymond. “BEWARE-FRIDAY THE 13TH” I glanced at the calendar and sure enough it was the 13th. I had never been superstitious before then.
When I walked into the break room, I found Death sitting at the table. His staff was leaning against the wall next to the time clock. Wearing an Apple Park uniform, he oddly fit in.
In an eerie voice I recognized as Raymond’s, Death spoke to us announcing, “Today is the end of the world.”
It was really odd, because I was accustomed to Raymond’s outrageous and sometimes unexplainable behavior, but a shiver ran down my spine.
The morning went fairly smoothly. I worked as the loader, and Raymond stood at the controls of our locally-famous wooden roller coaster. Everything seemed perfect. Yet, I felt like a tremendous hurricane had somehow formed over the lake. Perhaps somehow I knew something was going to happen.
I took my place at the exit gate, ready for the incoming coaster train. I could feel the vibrations on the deck. I saw Raymond pounding at the break buttons. The coaster was moving too fast, and the break was jammed. I turned towards the track, expecting the coaster to get stuck at the breaks. That is when I saw a board jutting up from the track. From Raymond’s position, he never would have seen it.
Before I could move my lips to call out a warning, the coaster came gliding down the last hill and rammed into the board and frozen breaks. The front car bent the track and broke free, dragging the entire train with it. The cars shook and turned, breaking through the railing and soared thirty feet to the ground where it crashed into the cement. The back three cars slid along their sides and slammed into the concrete building, smashing them and the occupants into the wall. The screams ended in the sound of crunching metal.
I could not move. I could hear Trenton, the Ride’s Department Supervisor, screaming on the radio. I could see Raymond crumpling to the deck in front of the controls. I could not speak or force myself to take a step in any direction.
Still standing on the coaster deck, I watched as a dozen ambulances arrived and left with the sheet-covered remains of the eighteen riders who were scattered through out a jumble of shattered wood and blood. Not a single rider, of which most were children, survived.
The park had been evacuated and police officers from several neighboring towns were holding back a crowd of onlookers and reporters. I felt a light tough on my shoulder and managed to turn to see Trenton standing there. His lips were moving but I heard nothing. Everything had gone deathly silent in my mind, and the only thing present was the sight I was observing.
A paramedic came up to me and shined a light into both eyes, asking me questions I could not hear. All I could do was stare at him. When his gloved hand touched the side of my face I started screaming and could not stop. Tears were falling from my eyes and my whole body began to shake. It felt as if I were inside my mind seeing all this but unable to control my own actions.
I was released from the hospital two days later. That is when I began hiding from the world, unable to cope with the memories. Raymond moved to the Caribbean. The amusement park could never be drained from his blood. He found himself working the Ferris wheel on a small setup on the beach. He has told me several times that when the waves roar just right, he hears that wooden roller coaster. I suppose we will never truly escape.
Today is the two year anniversary of that unfortunate day. Apple Park has been closed all this time. Last year repairs were started on the broken wooden track. There have been several reports from workers stating the ghosts of those who died were watching the reconstruction and were waiting to be set free. The park will reopen tomorrow, but today was reserved for a ceremony held in the victims’ honor.
Trenton was giving the difficult task of calling me and Raymond. The Park Board wanted us to operate the coaster for its ceremonial trip around the track. I am not sure why I agreed. I know my best friend would never step foot on a coaster deck again, so I had to fight both our demons today.
Standing at the controls, I watched as the empty coaster departed from the deck. I swallowed back my tears and held my fingers over the new break controls. I closed my eyes so that I could not see the train coming over the last hill. I was terrified I would see the souls of the passengers from two years ago.
When the empty coaster was stopped successfully on the deck, I felt a weight lift off my soul. A part of me that had been held prisoner for two agonizing years had been set free. I knew it was time to share my and Raymond’s side of this tragic event.
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