Denser Than A Block of Wood [MrMista/Ems]

MrMista
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Here and there

Denser Than A Block of Wood [MrMista/Ems] Jul 23, 2016 15:50:05 GMT -5

Post by MrMista on Jul 23, 2016 15:50:05 GMT -5

Life is a lot happier when you don’t think about the details. That’s the case for me at least. When I start thinking, I might start focusing on my urge to try my parents’ goods, a big no-no, MJ’s precipitant now that I know what she does when Ma and Pa aren’t looking, or the funny looks people cast my way when I talk to them for the first time. They know I’m a bit dull, that much I can tell, but that’s no reason to look at me all funny, right? I don’t look at smart people that way, or short people, or tall people, anyone for that matter. Maybe that looks means they’re thinking, which is why it never comes across my face. Maybe I’ll ask someone who gives me that look one day what exactly they’re thinking of. It’s probably something too deep for me to copperhead but it’s worth a shot. What can I say - I’m a bit curious.

Look at me, doing all of this thinking. The last time I thought this much was when I had to write down how many logs I’d chopped all week. I wasn’t sure how to count that. I mean, each tree starts as one log, right? But then, it becomes two logs, four logs, and it keeps going the more I chop. So, by the end of my workweek, I’ve chopped a lot of logs, but they came for only a few trees. The math is always too much for me, so I just write down a number that makes sense. Last week, I wrote that I chopped 50 logs all week. For some reason, that made my boss very happy. He said I’m his favorite employee, and he’d even pay me for 60 logs. Funny thing is, three others passed by me as I was leaving and I saw they wrote down numbers much bigger than mine, but there’s no way they chopped that much. I don’t know who, but somebody’s being cheated. That doesn’t matter to me, though. It’s too much to think about. I’m just happy the boss thinks I’m a cost-omission guy to have around.

Anyway, today I have to bring back 10 trees to the boss. I love my job because there’s no thinking to it. I just swing, and swing, and swing again, until it’s time for me to go home. In fact, I do most of my thinking, not that there’s much of it, on my way to and from work. Now that I’m in the forest, I can stop being all philological with my thinking and get to work. After all, these trees won’t chop themselves.

I stop thinking and pick up my axe, ready to aim it at my first target, when suddenly there’s a rusting nearby. My impeding moment of bliss has been shattered. By what? Maybe it’s a rabbit. Must be a pretty big one though; it didn’t sound light on its feet. I walk in the direction of the sound, and that’s when I see him. The guy looks around my age… and nothing like a lumberjack. To start off, he doesn’t have the build of one – too skinny. Also, there’s no beard to be seen. Not that I’m one to talk. Or well, I am. In fact, I talk a lot. But that’s not the point. He’s missing some fingers though, and that’s what makes me doubt the boss sent him. He wouldn’t be hired in his condition, and I doubt any other boss would think differently. Still, you never know. What do I know about how people think? The best thing to do is just ask, by talking instead of thinking. “Thought I was working alone today. You here to chop down some trees too?” I call out.

No thinking, just acting. Time to see if he lives the same way.

Knuckles
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Denser Than A Block of Wood [MrMista/Ems] Jul 26, 2016 17:05:51 GMT -5

Post by Knuckles on Jul 26, 2016 17:05:51 GMT -5

Chester Meisenzahl
Leaves scurried across the ground as a gentle breeze blew through the woods. Woodpeckers pecked against the trees while other birds flew high in the sky making a wonderful tune laced with innocence. Rays of sunlight glistened through the tree tops making a beautiful stairway to heaven. Many times Chester wanted to climb the fictional staircase to reach a world he hadn't been to before, yet clouds moved in blocking out the sun each time he tried. Sometimes he longed for a freedom he didn't deserve, and the heavens above the clouds had that freedom - just look at the birds. But why leave a world when he still had many tricks lingering up his sleeve.

A heavy sigh left his chest as he reached down wrapped his frail hands around Betsy, his axe. The two of them had been through so much together - Chester can still see the blood etched into the metal blade as he cut his own mother down. Her silent screams still echoed through his mind with each passing second. He taught her a lesson while his father sat tied to a pole forced to watch the scene carry out. His father was taught a lesson. That was what his life was about teaching lessons. Making sure nobody dared oppose him; sadly some still tried.

One step after another, Chester marched through the woods. Branches snapped beneath the weight of his body. Briars poked at his legs while he waded through knee high weeds. Crimson trickled down the side of his leg catching in the tiny fibers of his hair. His eyes locked on a colony of ants marching in a single file line through the bark of a tree. It amazed him. They all worked together for a common goal, and that was the way of Panem. Every district had a goal, only some chose to walk by the wayside. Some chose to fall away from the guidelines President Snow set up -

Chester was one of those.

Bursting through the weeds into the open, a man holding the axe stood before him. Another lumberjack. Chester thought to himself as his grip tightened around Betsy. His eyes landed on the beardless guy. The muscles protruding from his arms. Typical. He shook his head before lifting the axe into the air prepared to strike. Not many trespassed into this part of the woods. This was his home. He established it for himself after his eighteenth birthday - "Thought I was working alone today. You here to chop down some trees too?"

He knew how lumberjacks worked. He loved watching the trees fall as the axe pierced the delicate skin. The feeling of watching the trees bleed the sap lingering on the inside was almost like watching an animal, or a human bleed after being cut open. But to walk into his home, and demolish what he had worked so hard to build? That was crossing the line. The corner of his lips twisted into a slight grin, and he tried to portray the feeling of welcoming a fellow guest inside. Yet Chester wanted nothing to do with him. He wanted him to leave. But his words didn't follow the ways of his mind. "Out here? Are you trying to destroy my home?" His voice was quiet, and his eyes narrowed as he carefully planned his next move.

lest we forget [the characters]

credit to Zoe

MrMista
Merchant

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last seen Sept 23, 2017 13:22:02 GMT -5

Here and there

Denser Than A Block of Wood [MrMista/Ems] Jul 28, 2016 19:07:43 GMT -5

Post by MrMista on Jul 28, 2016 19:07:43 GMT -5

The boy is an odd one, I can tell that much already. I’m a simple guy. I ask simple questions. I expect simple answers – yes or no. Instead of answering me in a way that would make the situation easy for me, the strange boy starts speaking critically, like one of those fortune tellers who take your money in exchange for a glimpse into your future.

His friendly appearance doesn’t match his tone, as he asks me, voice barely above a whisper, “Out here? Are you trying to destroy my home?"

What sort of nonsense is this? We’re miles from the nearest house, and chopping them down would be useless anyway. The wood I bring back is used to make houses, so using houses to make would liberally be backwards.

The boy is complex, clearly a thinker. He narrows his eyes at me, and his gaze reminds me of the people who look at me weirdly when I talk. He must be like them, always thinking about something important, always walking around with a plan. He might be trying to figure me out as we speak, not that that’s hard. There’s no need to look so intense; I’m a pretty easy guy to figure out. That’s one of the benefits of being like me, I think. It’s not a downside, right? I’ll have to ask someone who can figure that out for me.

But for someone who looks like a thinker, his words make no sense.

He must be joking.

Yeah, he’s just messing around.

“Destroy your home? Now that’s just silly. There’s no houses around here. Nothing but trees wherever you look.” I let out a laugh, hoping he catches the fact that we can both be lighthearted.

Gasified that I’ve proved myself not to be a threat, I ready my axe to take my first swing at the tree in front of me, when a sudden thought ~~it's~~ ~~dangerous to think~~ crosses my mind. What if he doesn’t belong here? What if he’s ill and thinks he’s somewhere else? I have to make sure and clarify. “You realize we’re in the forest, right?”

Now that I’ve said the words, they sound kind of rude as they hang in the air. I didn’t mean for them to come out like that. I wanted to show that I’m not just a serious dude with an axe, but that I can joke around too. Instead, it feels like my words belong to one of those people who think I’m less important for seeing life simply.

Quickly, so he knows I mean well, I offer him some help. “If you’re lost, I can help you find your way out of here once I’m done chopping. Then you can go home, and don’t worry, I won’t destroy it. Come on, help me out, and we’ll be done in half the time.” I flash him a quick smile and get ready to get to work alongside him.

I’m a simple guy. I understand simple matters. While the guy in front of me is far from simple, I ~~think~~ hope I’ve figured him out just enough.

Last Edit: Jul 28, 2016 19:08:46 GMT -5 by MrMista

Knuckles
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Denser Than A Block of Wood [MrMista/Ems] Jul 31, 2016 17:11:53 GMT -5

Post by Knuckles on Jul 31, 2016 17:11:53 GMT -5

Chester Meisenzahl
Birds flew freely without a worry in the world while Chester stood in place with a loose grip on his axe. Eyes darted from tree to tree trying to take in the male standing before him wanting to demolish his home. Nobody took into consideration the animals of the world anymore as the trees fell so did their homes. But none of that concerned him. Chester didn't search for the freedom the animals desired. He had his place, and the forest was full of many opportunities. Poisonous plants ran wild without any worry of being disturbed. Food lingered around every corner. It was the life, yet people of district seven ruined it as they slaved for the Capitol.

"Destroy your home? Now that's just silly. There's no houses around here. Nothing but trees wherever you look." The male laughed, and Chester wanted to knock the grin off his face because there was no time for messing around.

His jaw went tense while he clicked his teeth a couple times before blinking once.

"You realize we're in the forest, right?"

His hand met his head with such a force he was stunned for a moment. What kind of foolish person wouldn't recognize a forest? Trees grew high. Weeds covered majority of the ground. Ticks and ants crawled along the sides of the trees. Leaves offered a natural shade nothing man made could. Chester shook his head slightly realizing he was talking to an idiot, but before he could speak the man was talking once more, and he swore his intelligence dropped a point with each and every word.

"If you're lost, I can help you find your way out of here once I'm done chopping. Then you can go home, and don't worry I won't destroy it. Come on, help me out, and we'll be done on half the time."

What an idiot.

It took all he had to not bust out laughing like a fool. This man was the reason people died in the hunger games every single year. And why, out of all the people, would Chester stop to help a man chop down some trees? This was his home. To assist someone in demolishing it would ruin all he worked for.

He pivoted on his toes trying to hide the from spreading across his face. Chester wanted to feel something more than the hollowness of his brittle bones. His hand tightened around the handle of Betsy, and he quickly taking a couple steps forward stopping just a few inches away from the lumberjack in front of him.

"Do I look stupid? Of course I know this is a forest. Only a fool wouldn't know that." He snarled through gritted teeth. "No, I'm not lost, and I don't need your help finding my way home because this is my home." His eyes focused on the face of the man in front of him while he turned in every direction showing the stranger his home. Yet he couldn't stop wondering how anyone would hire an idiot to work for them, but when he stopped and thought for a moment, Chester knew the Capitol didn't care what a person looked like as long as they served them.

Sure the two strangers had one thing in common. They held an axe, but Chester's purpose was different. His axe was stained with blood and the lives of those he thought he loved, but love had no meaning. It was nothing more than a four letter word etched into stone some people fell for. While the guy nearby was nothing more than a lumberjack trying to make a living and do his job. Unlike him, Chester had more than enough food and supplies to last him a lifetime.

"And why would I help you?" He asked quietly. "So you can make more money? That's good for you, but there's nothing in it for me."

lest we forget [the characters]

credit to Zoe

MrMista
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last seen Sept 23, 2017 13:22:02 GMT -5

Here and there

Denser Than A Block of Wood [MrMista/Ems] Aug 3, 2016 18:37:33 GMT -5

Post by MrMista on Aug 3, 2016 18:37:33 GMT -5

I’m starting to think that maybe I have the boy all wrong. I guess I couldn’t even figure out a fellow axe-lover.

When I finish speaking, I expect him to happily join me in chopping down some trees then allow me to help him find his way home. I’m about to bring my axe down, letting its metal tongue taste wood for the first time today, and confabulate myself for handling the situation so well, when I hear a loud smack.

I turn back to look at the boy, and I see his hand stuck to his face. He must have struck a bug flying around him. We are in the woods, after all, and flies and mosquitos can be quite the little pests. I’m about to ask, “Did you get the little critter,” but the question dies in my throat long before I can get the words out, as I see him turn around and face the other way.

That’s an odd thing to do. Here we are, talking to one another, and he goes and turns his back to me. That’s pretty rude. The last time that happened was when MJ walked away from me, just as I was trying to figure out why she kept taking items from our parents’ storage. This is different, though. She might have walked away because my questions were too hard to answer, but I’m not asking this boy anything too diffident.

Oh, but what if he turned away because he’s hurt. What if it wasn’t a bug or mosquito that he just swatted, but a bee or wasp? It could have stung him, and now he’s in pain. Of course he doesn’t want me to see that. I’m about to ask if that’s the case, but he turns around yet again. As far as I can tell, his forehead is clear, so I guess he’s not in pain.

Wow, this guy must be thinking so much that his ideas can’t keep him still. First he has to look towards me, and then away, and now back at me again. I wonder what he’s thinking, though it looks like I’m about to find out, because even though I could hear him just fine from where he stood, he suddenly starts walking towards me, quite quickly too.

Step.

Maybe he wants to shake my hand for being such a swell guy. I’ve never shaken a hand with less than five fingers, but hey, it can’t be all that different. I’ll have to make sure not to look disgusted though. I don’t want to hurt the poor guy’s feelings.

Step.

Now that he’s closer, I notice that he’s gripping the handle of his axe pretty tightly, like he’s afraid it’ll fall to the ground
if he relaxes just a bit. Oh, now I get it. He misunderstood me. When I offered that we both chop trees together, he thought I meant the same tree, both at once. That’s kind of a foolish mistake, if you ask me, but hey, not everybody gets it, especially if they’re not full-time lumberjacks.

Step.

He stops right in front of me, and suddenly the look on his face is quite clear. He’s not happy for some reason, that much I can tell. I’m stuck, though, trying to figure out how to react. He wasn’t bitten, as his forehead is definitely clear of even minor injuries, so asking him if he’s hurt would just be stupid now. I’m still considering shaking his hand, but now I don’t know if that’s what he came over for. The look on his face also makes it seem he doesn’t want to start chopping away, not at this tree at least. Chopping is an exercise that calls for a peaceful expression. It’s a time when one’s mind can yonder wherever it desires, allowing a lumberjack to escape the chains that bind us to reality. Wow, that was a really poetic thought of mine. Maybe one day I’ll be a poet and wow everyone with my skillful use of iterative language.

Before I can figure out my future, or even which action to take in the present, the boy speaks, and that’s when I first start to doubt that I ever really understood him. "Do I look stupid? Of course I know this is a forest. Only a fool wouldn't know that. No, I'm not lost, and I don't need your help finding my way home because this is my home," the boy yells, all in a single breath. He speak angrily, through gritted teeth, and flails in every direction.

Step.

That’s me, moving away from him just enough to be out of reach of his axe. He should be careful with that thing; he could really hurt someone. Luckily, I’m safe, at least for now.

The boy is clearly lustrated, but at least he’s not lost. I guess that makes my situation at least a little bit better. Funny word choice though, asking if I think he’s stupid. No, I can tell he’s quite the thinker, so hopefully he’ll be happy to hear that.

What confuses me most though is what he keeps saying about his home. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he had an invisible house nearby and I just couldn’t see it. I know that can’t be the case though, so the only other possibility is… that he lives alone in the forest, sleeping on the floor or in the trees? Maybe even this tree? Is that right? It seems too wild to be true, but I’ll have to ask to make sure.

While I think though, the boy lets out one more question, this one sounding softer than his first rant, which surely left him out of breath. "And why would I help you? So you can make more money? That's good for you, but there's nothing in it for me."

This one’s easy to answer, so I’ll leave it for later. A wise man once told me that when you have two things to say, first say the first thing, then the second, so I’ll try to cannel his wisdom now.

“I understand you seem a bit upset, but don’t worry, I don’t think you’re dumb at all. You actually seem like quite the thinker. I have to be honest, though, you’ve left me confused. How do you live here?” I emphasize my question by pointing all around with my free hand, careful not to swing around my axe with the other. “There are no houses to be seen, no people to be found, nothing but trees, trees and more trees. How do you survive? I pause for breath. "You’re not hiding an invisible house, are you?” Hey, I doubt it, but you never know.

The second half of his questioning is not a problem, and as I reach out a hand for him to shake, I smile and ask, “You don’t think I’d keep all the money for myself, do you? I’ll give you all of the extra pay, don’t you worry.” Realizing that if he really does live in the woods, he might not care so much for money, I add, “Maybe then we can relax a bit around town afterwards. It must be awfully lonely for you in these woods.”

Perhaps I misjudged the guy originally, and I still don’t fully understand him, but hopefully my smile and offer help calm him down and win him over. He really looks like he needs to get out more or, actually, get in more, so maybe a visit to one of the bars my parents supply will do him some good. He’d probably be a lot more loosened up once he has some alcohol flowing through him.

Before I can confirm that though, I just hope he’ll actually shake my hand and not try to use his axe to make my fingers mirror his own.

Last Edit: Aug 3, 2016 18:39:27 GMT -5 by MrMista

Knuckles
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Denser Than A Block of Wood [MrMista/Ems] Aug 12, 2016 10:49:11 GMT -5

Post by Knuckles on Aug 12, 2016 10:49:11 GMT -5

Chester Meisenzahl
His question hung in the air for only a moment until the man was taking a few steps away removing himself from the current situation. It would've been nice had he ran off and left because he was invading Chester's home, and nobody got away with that, yet the man didn't leave. He only stopped an arms length away. Chester cackled as his gaze locked onto the face of the pathetic lumberjack standing in front of him holding his axe in his hand like it was nothing. Nobody needed to get hurt right now, yet Chester feared the man would strain a muscle trying to think. He was an idiot to even come to this part of the woods because the weeds were high, and snakes enjoyed twisting through every corner. He could almost see the wheels turning inside the stranger's mind as he tried to figure out what was happening - like it wasn't obvious to begin with. Every inch he moved, Chester felt something sparking inside. A fire was burning, and he wasn't about to put it out. His mother and father gave him a life he didn't deserve to live. They created him. They turned him into the monster most see him as, but perhaps this guy was different. Based on his reactions, Chester realized he was dumber than a box of rocks, but insulting his intelligence hadn't crossed him mind yet.

"I understand you seem a bit upset, but don’t worry, I don’t think you’re dumb at all. You actually seem like quite the thinker. I have to be honest, though, you’ve left me confused. How do you live here?"

If it couldn't have gotten any worse, the man had to speak, and his words were the clues Chester needed. One day he'd prey upon this man standing before him. Only a foolish man would question the antics of another. This was his home, and this man had entered without asking permission. He as a sinner, and the sinners needed to be taken care of. And to top it all off, the boy starts pointing around at all the trees - he's really trying me.

"There are no houses to be seen, no people to be found, nothing but trees, trees and more trees. How do you survive?"

Chester was about to answer when the idiot spoke again -

"You’re not hiding an invisible house, are you?"

He blinked.

Every word he had wanted to say stuck to the tip of his tongue while crickets chirped around him. Any hope he had that the guy had some sort of common sense left in the blink of an eye.

An invisible house?

It was in this moment Chester realized the man was truly a fool. How could anyone have an invisible house? And was it even worth his time trying to explain that he lived in the trees and slept high above the ground at night? That he didn't have a house because all he needed was the food the woods supplied?

He couldn't hold himself back much longer as the man kept talking, and Chester only half listened to what was being said, yet he kept his eyes locked on the man trying to figure him out. Trying to gain an ounce of knowledge because he only knew the man for the idiot he truly was, and not everyone had the chance of being crowned the king of idiots.

But somehow this man surpassed them all.

He reached a hand out, and a smile twist across his face, and Chester wanted nothing more than to run away and pretend this meeting never happened, but the stupidity of it all still echoed through his mind. His tongue slid across his teeth as he tried to turn his lips into a genuine smile, but at this moment he had no idea how. His intelligence dropped to the floor, and everything he had worked for felt impossible to keep. "You don’t think I’d keep all the money for myself, do you? I’ll give you all of the extra pay, don’t you worry."

It wasn't about the money. It wasn't about gaining a friendship and losing a friendship. It was about barging into his home with the intentions of destroying it.

Yet this man didn't understand.

"Maybe then we can relax a bit around town afterwards. It must be awfully lonely for you in these woods."

Birds flew through the air, and squirrels rustled the leaves on the ground as the branches cracked through the gentle breeze. It was a lovely day, and Chester wasn't wanting to deal with the stupidity of the people of district seven - someone other than himself had to have the smarts needed to survive in such a cruel world.

He wanted to remain quiet. He tried his hardest not to say anything as he shook the hand for just a brief second -

An invisible house.

The words echoed through his mind as he tried to turn his gaze away. It wasn't right to hurt anyone's feelings, but Chester couldn't hold back.

"The trees, man. I live in the trees." He shook his head trying not to hurt the guy too much. "Oh yeah. I live in an invisible house. It's just over there." He pointed towards the tallest of trees. "It only took me 2 seconds to build."

An invisible house.

"But really, an invisible house? You're joking, right?"

He swung his axe over his shoulder and waited for an answer.

Last Edit: Aug 12, 2016 11:20:36 GMT -5 by Knuckles

lest we forget [the characters]

credit to Zoe

MrMista
Merchant

182 POSTS

Pronouns: He/Him
last seen Sept 23, 2017 13:22:02 GMT -5

Here and there

Denser Than A Block of Wood [MrMista/Ems] Aug 15, 2016 8:25:36 GMT -5

Post by MrMista on Aug 15, 2016 8:25:36 GMT -5

I know I’m not the sharpest guy around. To put it bluntly, I’m pretty dull. But hey, clearly I don’t always make stupid decisions.

As I stand before the boy with my hand outstretched in an offer of friendship or, at the very least, peace, I watch the stranger’s gears turn. He looks at me with a confusing mixture, the emotions in his eyes changing with every passing moment. I am looking at a spinning wheel of fortune. Every section is labeled with an outcome that will only reveal itself to me once the compaction, the boy’s mind, comes to a halt.

Round and round and round it goes. Where it stops, nobody knows.

Well, given how the guy in front of me is the one doing all the thinking, I’m sure he knows exactly what he’s going to say. On my end though, predicting his moves would be just as difficult as winning the lottery. It’s much easier to say nothing, to keep a smile on my face and wait for him to act as he wishes.

Eventually, my patience is rewarded, and I watch with relief as the boy extends his arm and clasps my outstretched hand in his. Success! It’s a little weird shaking his hand, as expected, and my fingers curl a bit more than usual in the spots where he has none to support them. I’ll be honest; the moment our hands touch, my eyes ornamentally drop down to look at them. It’s not on purpose, I promise. I know it’s rude to stare. It’s just that the whole situation is odd to think about, so instead I focus on the fact that at least the guy didn’t respond by chopping my fingers off, a victory in of itself.

Peeling my eyes off of the handshake, I focus on his face again just in time to see his expression settle. As the wheel comes to a halt, the resulting panel is revealed, and it is… peaceful. Where there was a storm of emotions, now there is nothing but a blank, simple stare. I think I even see the beginnings of a smile start to tug at the corners of his lips, as he starts to speak, a welcome change.

“The trees, man. I live in the trees,” he says, as if it’s obvious. Now that I think about it, though, that does make the most sense. I’ve known from the start that there are no houses in the woods. Otherwise one of my coworkers would have known about it, and the boss would have notified us by now. But the boy’s answer raises a whole new set of questions. How does he survive the cold nights? The rains and snows? How does he get his food? All of the nutrients he needs? Even water must be hard to come by. Suddenly, his sunken appearance makes a lot more sense. Even the most resourceful outdoorsman, and I’m sure he’s a strong pretender for that title, would have trouble staying fit out here. All of the tree climbing he must do, although a good way to build muscle, must drain him to the point of exhaustion.

I’m about to let him know how impressive it is that he’s been able to survive out here on his own, though who knows, maybe he’s had help, when he surprises me by pointing at a tree and proclaiming, all matter of fact like, “Oh yeah. I live in an invisible house. It’s right over there.” No way! Guess that’s why it never hurts to ask. The guy actually has an invisible house! I’ve never really been the climbing type, more so the chopping type, but for something like this, it’s worth getting my feet off the ground and onto a tree branch.

Before I can jump up and start climbing though, the dude lets out a doozy. “It only took me two seconds to build,” he lets me know, without so much as a hint of pride. The dude’s way too humble. Not only is he a master survivalist with an invisible house, but he’s apparently a professional speed builder. That’s amazing! That’s prenominal! That’s insane! That’s… actually insane. Ripred, I’m stupid. He’s mocking me, not being serious. Here I am getting all excited about a goddamn joke; of course the kid is going to get some entertainment out of it. Guess that’s what I get for asking dumb questions, though I still think it was worth a shot. Maybe it’s because I’m so dull and everything I learn seems to go in one ear and out the other, but I’m convinced the world is full of wonders just waiting to be discovered. I won’t be the one to discover them, I’m pretty sure of that, but they’re still out there somewhere. Who knows, maybe an invisible house is among them.

For now though, I have to deal with the fact that I’ve made myself look like a fool, or rather, that I’ve demonstrated just how much of a fool I am. Luckily, the guy doesn’t seem to be capricious, merely joking around, and the tone of his next question is devoid of anger. “But really, an invisible house? You’re joking, right?” he asks, amusement elegant in his voice. I almost exhale aloud and all at once from the relief. He’s giving me an out, a way to save face. I’d have to be a complete idiot to pass on it, and though I know I’m dumb, I like to think I’m not quite as dense as a block of wood.

“Joking, right,” I reply, sounding more nervous than I want to. As I reach over to scratch the back of my head with my free hand, I let out a little chuckle. “Of course I am. Yeah, let’s go with that.” Even I’m not convinced by my attempt at a recovery, but hopefully he decides not to push the matter further.

Instead, I’d much rather learn a bit more about him. This guy – wow, I don’t even know his name yet – somehow survives without the help of a house, invisible or not. I need to change the topic and stop him from focusing on my stupidity, and this is the best chance I’ll get. As I open the floodgates, a torrent of words rushes out of my mouth, barreling the boy with questions I hope he can answer. I start off slowly, with a measured, “So, without a house, how do you survive in the trees?” Right away though, my speech picks up speed and before I can stop myself I’m asking, “What happens when it gets cold? When it rains? When you get sick? When you get hungry? How do you do it all?”

I gasp, out of breath, and as I start to recover, I decide to pause and let the guy speak, until I realize, that respite all the questions I’ve asked, there is one important one I’ve missed. “But first, my name’s Jack,” I say, nearly breathless. “What’s yours?”

I’ve already made it quite clear that I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed. All I can do now is avoid cementing my place as the dullest.

Knuckles
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Denser Than A Block of Wood [MrMista/Ems] Aug 17, 2016 10:54:15 GMT -5

Post by Knuckles on Aug 17, 2016 10:54:15 GMT -5

Chester Meisenzahl
The corners of his lips twisted into a cocky grin as his eyes watched the many the wheels turning inside the stranger's head. Never in his entire life had he met someone as dumb as this guy, but maybe there was a reasoning behind it. Perhaps he wasn't as dumb as Chester was making him out to be - yeah, that's it. - he told himself over and over, yet each time he thought he had the male figured out, he did something to throw Chester off guard once more. Living in the woods was one of the best things he had ever done in his entire life. It gave him a view of the outside world many hadn't received before. Sure, lumberjacks came out during the days to chop down trees, but Chester was willing to bet very few had slept in a branch of a tree under the stars not worrying about anything in the world.

"Joking, right." It was obvious he wasn't joke, and the tone of his voice only made that clear. But it didn't stop there. "Of course I am. Yeah, let's go with that." Chester stifled a laugh trying to hold it in, yet the bubbles danced inside his chest, and he wanted to release it all into the air. Harassing people wasn't right, however, when someone as ignorant as this guy stood in front of him, Chester couldn't resist. Right and wrong made no difference to him. He didn't care what other people thought of him; all that mattered was how he treated himself.

Yet before he had the chance to speak, the man was at it again throwing out questions at the speed of light. "So without a house, how do you survive in the trees? What happens when it gets cold? When it rains? When you get sick? When you get hungry? How do you do it all?" He took a step back trying to take in the words buzzing through the air. Every question wrapped through his mind before flying out of the way. He opened his mouth to speak, but the man was talking once more. "But first, my name's Jack, what's yours?"

Now those were important questions, but Chester had no reason to tell him his real name. Why give him the information he needed in order to have the peacekeepers marching through his door at any given second? It wasn't worth his time. Yet Jack introduced himself, and Chester had every right to leave him hanging, however, it wasn't worth his time. He had wasted precious seconds trying to learn the stranger - well he wasn't a stranger anymore - standing in front of him. Chester stroked his chin pondering the proper way to introduce himself. He wanted to tell him a name he had heard before, but that would mean he wouldn't take credit for the jokes he caused.

"Chester."

He spoke just one word before turning his mind to the other questions the man asked. So, without a house, how do you survive in the trees? That was a simple question, yet he knew he had to dumb it down for Jack because he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed. A heavy sigh left his chest - "Just climb up in a tree, find a good, strong branch, use rope to tie yourself in, and there you go." It was a waste of his time, answering all these questions when he had other things to do. "It doesn't matter how I do it." He finally snapped. His face blank of all emotion. "You should try it. The possibilities are endless." He had a house back in the district if he wanted to return to it, but he preferred living on the outside. That was one detail he wasn't going to share because nobody needed to know.

lest we forget [the characters]

credit to Zoe

MrMista
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Here and there

Denser Than A Block of Wood [MrMista/Ems] Aug 22, 2016 8:30:42 GMT -5

Post by MrMista on Aug 22, 2016 8:30:42 GMT -5

I’ve never been a good liar.

Lying takes skill, careful planning, and a desire to outthink others. Unfortunately, I lack all three of those. Hell, even if I wanted to hurt someone else, I lack the actability to outthink anyone over the age of three, and even that might be giving me too much credit. The closest I can get to lying is keeping the truth to myself, commuting a lie by emission, but even that sometimes proves to be too difficult. My tongue is simply too loose, my teeth and lips too ineffectual at keeping it locked within my mouth’s safe confides.

The boy, in front of me, possesses at least the first two of those three necessary prerequisites. He lives in the woods, supposedly all on his own, which seems to be impossible without the necessary skill and planning. I know the survival skills and lying skills aren’t the same, but I’m sure a smart guy like him could put what he knows to use and fool someone else. He can surely outthink me and leave me believing a fairytale (such as an invisible house), but that doesn’t mean much.

As I await the boy’s name, I watch him stroke his chin, a sign that he is thinking, and I wonder why he is taking the time to think of an answer to such a simple question. He doesn’t seem to have any memory issues, so the answer should come naturally to him. The only other possibility is that he’s trying to abnegate a response, making it up on the spot. But, why lie about his name?

That’s as far as I get in my thinking before he finally presents an answer – a straightforward “Chester.” I take it with a grain of salt, but life is simpler when I don’t think too much into things. As far as I’m concerned, Chester is his real name, and in the back of my head, a faint voice tells me not to press the matter further. Perhaps, if I had a few grains of sense, I’d listen to the voice and focus my energy on clamping my mouth shut, or at least changing the topic. Instead, my tongue bypasses my thought process and darts out of its cage, so that before I know it, I’ve jokingly said, “You sure took your time with that, Chester. Didn’t realize it was a trick question.”

Stupid, stupid, STUPID!

I bite my tongue as I realize my blunder, making sure not to let another unchecked word leave my lips. I hope he doesn’t take it the wrong way, but how else could he react? I’ve basically just called him one of two things: a liar and a fool. There’s no way Chester, a man who’s been resourceful enough to survive in the woods on his own, will take kindly to either option. Quickly, I try to get myself out of this particulate the only way I know how, with more words. Although I know I might only be digging myself an even deeper hole, I manage to blurt out, “That really was a joke this time.”

I’ve never been a good liar, so it’s fortunate for me that I’m telling the truth this time, kind of. I didn’t mean to make the joke, but it was one nonetheless.

It takes a while for me to realize that Chester has done more talking, beyond that one seven-letter word. “Just climb up in a tree, find a good, strong branch, use a rope to tie yourself in, and there you go,” he says, making it sound like it’s second nature, though for him it probably is. Chester follows up with a surprisingly unenthusiastic, “You should try it. The possibilities are endless,” and though he’s brushed off my earlier questions, I’m nonetheless intrigued by him. Still, just because he’s mastered the art of wilderness survival doesn’t mean I have to injure myself trying to ambulate him.

“Thanks for the recommendation,” I happily reply, “But I prefer to keep my feet on the ground, not wrapped around a tree.” I’m sure he’s hiding plenty of excitement behind his outwardly bland tone, so hopefully my words don’t hurt him too much. He seems like a good guy, even if he is a bit strange.

Last Edit: Aug 22, 2016 8:32:27 GMT -5 by MrMista

Knuckles
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Denser Than A Block of Wood [MrMista/Ems] Aug 22, 2016 19:08:40 GMT -5

Post by Knuckles on Aug 22, 2016 19:08:40 GMT -5

Chester Meisenzahl
Chester yearned for someone to keep him company through the long nights when the nightmares became too much, yet he quickly changed his mind realizing how easily it was for people to trespass into his home he worked so hard to build. But this guy, Jack, wasn't backing off. He wasn't going away. He wasn't doing anything except trying to keep the conversation going. Apparently the answers weren't paying off, and Chester wondered what he was doing wrong when the words reached his ears.

"You sure took your time with that, Chester. Didn't realize it was a trick question."

His jaw clenched shut locking into place. Narrow, beady eyes glare at the boy standing in front of him - nobody questioned his integrity and got away with it. Grinding his teeth together, Chester found himself wondering where to go and what to do because he had enough. Jack was pushing him to his limits. Testing the boundaries he hadn't explored of his mind. Yet through it all, Chester forced the corners of his lips into a smile before cocking his head to the side. "That really was a joke this time."

It took every ounce of strength lingering inside to grasp ahold of the logical part of his brain instead of lashing out on an innocent bystander for no apparent reason, but Jack wasn't innocent. He had pushed his way into Chester's life by trying to destroy his home. He asked stupid questions, and once Chester thought he was finished, Jack kept going on and on. Now he questioned his integrity, his character, and expected Chester to go on like it was some foolish joke?

No. It wasn't happening.

His parents forced him into the life he chose by calling him names, by putting him down when they had nothing better to do. But one day he struck back. The broken self-esteem turned into a monster created with nothing but hate. His axe became his own powerful weapon as it extended from his arm as he cut them down. Mother and father trees, and Chester was a powerful lumberjack prepared to destroy anything that towered over him. They learned the hard way.

In the back of his mind he was marking this man as a target, the enemy, and one day he'd become the ruler of them all when Jack wasn't expecting it. All it took was careful planning, and the mistakes washed away in the quickness of a drink flowing down a parched throat. But there was more to it.

He had to make it right.

"How dare you question my integrity." He words flew through his clenched teeth faster than he ever imagined. "How dare you bring my character into play." His hands balled into fists as the axe slid from his shoulder crashing into the grassy floor in front of him. Every hair stood on end, and if it was possible, steam would fly from his nose like a dragon. But Chester wasn't a dragon warrior. "And I wouldn't want you sharing a tree in my home, you foolish, dimwitted, ignorant child."

He paused realizing the words he had said weren't nice, but kindness didn't matter. Chester was done trying to become friends - it was time to face the enemy.

"Perhaps that's the smartest decision you've made all day."