Introduction

This blog is the online representative of my writing throughout the 1990s. Fortunately or unfortunately, I do not write like this anymore. I intended to publish the zaniest bits in a book entitled Utter Weirdness. There will be no such book written by the current me.


For a good portion of the nineties, I was socially awkward--weird. I guess the term "weird" is still somewhat of a compliment for teenagers. Instead of interacting with people awkwardly, I chose to compose weird pieces of writing. However, it's not the same writing as one would find in Weird Tales. Writing, college, and my first teaching job helped me overcome my sense of being weird. The transition was kind of like this: shy guy to immature prankster to goofy reactionary to apparently less weird.


After a lot of self-reflection and analysis, I believe I was actually quite normal. I was just behind in social development, and I believe I'm somewhat in the "normal" range. I can be weird if I want to be, but I'm not constantly in a state of weirdness like I thought I was for the last decade of the 20th Century.


So here it is, the utterly weird writing of Jeremy, 1990-2000. If you prefer not to read in this random order, use the labels to read by genre or time period (high school, college, first teaching job).

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Sharks

Sharks are very mean fish. They don't look like fish though. But they have fins. Most sharks don't stop at the red traffic light because they don't live on land. I saw one shark on land. I think it was fake though, because it never moved. Sharks have to move to live.

I don't like sharks because they don't like humans and humans are good. I mean most humans are good especially me. I am a good human. When a shark meets a human they see us as a big piece of chicken. 

They begin to drool and slobber bubbles all over the sea. I laughed when I saw a shark drool bubbles. I thought he was smoking. I stopped laughing when it lunged at me. His teeth were big! Bigger than vampires' teeth. The shark's canines were about as big as my pet canine. I have a pet dog, not a pet tooth.

The shark didn't kill me because we were in the Bermuda Triangle. Before the shark gouged a piece of flesh out of my leg, five ceramic aliens, who called themselves the Throggins, vaporized the shark. They also vaporized my swimsuit. I was embarrassed. No one saw me though. I don't know why I blushed.

Anyway, there are many kinds of sharks: great white sharks, not-so-great white sharks, tiger sharks, whale sharks, tiny sharks, little sharks, medium sharks, mid-sized sharks, big sharks, giant sharks, hammerheads, and land sharks.

I've only met one hammerhead. Her name was Grizelda. When I was shopping for some Arm & Hammer Baking Soda, I accidentally fell into the middle of the Pacific Ocean and Grizelda laughed at me. Luckily I had a harpoon in my pocket and I killed her. The ocean filled with plaid red blood. When I got out, my mood ring was bloody. I didn't have enough money for a mood ring and Arm & Hammer Baking Soda, so I shoplifted. Don't worry; I already confessed at church.

Sharks have one special quality, they have a good ear for music. Most fish don't dig landlubber music. 

But my friend, Earl, said the sharks went to a Pink Floyd concert. Pink Floyd's a pretty good group especially their The Dark Side of the Moon album. Sharks also like gangsta rap. I don't agree with them on that one. Perhaps the violence intrigues them.

All in all, sharks are nice to pet in the zoo, but out in the deep blue sea sharks a menace. So I say, put all sharks into the San Diego Zoo and all the giraffes into the sea.

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