Thomm Quackenbush, author

Making Connections

I am quite popular. Bet you didn't know that. Well, shut the hell up, I am. Anyway, in my random travels, apparently I make connections. Random people that, for some reason or another, decide to attempt to contact me on Craigslist. Now, I could respond there, but using fuzzy math more people actually read my article here. Their loss is your gain, true believers; shoot me in the eye, I'm sounding more like Stan Lee every day.

http://newyork.craigslist.org/stn/mis/1479882145.html
 
That pale blur in front of the guy is totally me.

We were at the same party Saturday night. I asked you to come outside and talk to me. Theres more I want to say. Who was the party for?......How much time did I tell you to meet me in?

Dude, sup? I was so high, man. Dude, Saturday was like a year ago. I think it was Jeremy's party and you know that guy. Man, he's completely nuts. Punched me in the sack for taking his game once. Yeah, dude he's wicked weird. It was cool that you wanted to chat and, man, you did put a smile on my face, but that "meant to be together" crap? Well, that inspired the greatest run in my life.

Fifteen minutes. Bathrooms break for some, a head start for others. You should've seen me run, I was like lighting. Usian Bolt has nothing on me. I was in marathon mode; about three miles into it, I wetted my pants and used the coolness to break the heat of the night. I felt like a man escaping prison, there was a freedom in the night breeze and I dove over sewer gutters, screaming wildly, clearing my lungs of the smell you introduced into them. I haven't stopped running and I never will.

http://newyork.craigslist.org/brk/mis/1479802495.html
 
Style and justice! I has it.

I was walking underneath the M/D train by the 20 Ave stop in Bay Ridge. I was running an errand for work and not usually (in fact ever) in that neighborhood. You were wearing a navy blue striped shirt and a navy peacoat. But what I noticed more was the slightly tattered, black and white composition notebook you had in your hand. You walked next to me and said something about how your coat was stained. You had an accent, think it was Russian (?). I said you should soak it in water, you said you'll do that. You said something about Indian food and I said I wasn't from around here but I just had some good shish-kebab around the corner. I wasn't sure if you were looking for the restaurant or not so I just kept walking up the stairs to the 20th Ave station. You went into a Deli. I should have followed you! Or stopped to chat more. Sometimes being in this city makes me walk on by when maybe I shouldn't have. I thought about that and what might be written in your beautiful notebook on the whole long trip home.

The world is full of sinners and the names of those sinners curse the very edge of my lips. The pain, the stains of the burden of my mission are so powerful sometimes. Water alone will never wash away the stains. Maybe holy water would, I'll try that. Sometimes the pain gets so great that the only release one gets is writing those sinners down, a modern naughty list, if you will. The Deli had many naughty people in it. It was best that you didn't follow me in. You would've witnessed Armageddon for the few. I snapped the clerk's neck with my bare hands, lunging over the counter and wielding his slicer like the hand of God. I brought a reign of justice to this world not seen since the fall of biblical cities. It was tragic and beautiful; I wrote a poem about it.

http://newyork.craigslist.org/mnh/mis/1479815796.html
 
Worst Jedi EVA!

You were wearing a blueish-green t-shirt and jeans, chucks, and your hair was shoulder-length. You were alone like me. I was reading a book, Everything is Illuminated. You had your laptop. I was smitten. I was thinking of writing a poem about you. I'm a MFA student at the New School in Poetry. You would mess with your hair and lick your bottom lip when you concentrated. It was adorable. I wanted to talk to you, but I'm the awkward type. I'm pretty sure I would have stuttered, or spilled my coffee on you. I'm 6'2". I've been told I look like a young Liam Neeson. I hope I hear from you. You invade all my dreams, you've taken over my heart, you are all I am now.

Greetings, young Liam Neeson, it is I, Liam Neeson. Do you hear that? That is the sound of a thousand terrible things headed this way. Under the circumstances, I suggest you come to Coruscant with us. I have twenty thousand Republic dataries. Don't worry. The Force will guide us. Uhh, it's too late, it... Obi-Wan, promise... Promise me you will train the boy. He is the chosen one. He will bring balance. Train him. Ray Park is such a badass.


Stevehen J. Warren is a trained professional in dealing with the crap society churns out. If possible, do not attempt to engage any crap you may find. He mocks it so you don't have to.

If you have a movie, picture, website, friend, game, book, fan fiction, or toilet you would like me to see, or crap all over, please inform your friendly webmaster and include your name and the name of the crappee. The numbers are open and we have trained professionals waiting to receive your call.



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Works by Thomm Quackenbush

The Night's Dream Series

We Shadows by Thomm Quackenbush

Danse Macabre by Thomm Quackenbush

Artificial Gods by Thomm Quackenbush