Some time ago my friend Sy from The Wheel Is Turning But The Hamster Is Dead  has written a story with some words I randomly provided. He does that you know, you too can drop him a line and he will make a story based on your words. So here it is:

“The words “Oranges”, “Romania”, “Scooby-Doo”, and “Unicorn” followed by the phrase “Just the first things that came to my mind” are not normally associated with each other, but this is the content Anca has requested be part of this post.  Anca is fairly new to the whole blogging thing, so swing by and say hello.  Oh, and it looks like she is Romanian.  So I think she may be trying to drum up some free tourism for her homeland by asking that the country is included.  I shall put pay to that one now then!

It was a cold and eerie night.  The howling wind swirled the leaves high in to the cold night air.  There is no sign of life.  A tree creaks and tumbles. Then another, and another.  An entire orchard falls to it’s knees quicker then a cheap hooker handed $5.

This is not how Florida should be.  It is highly likely that the Orange crop for the year is pretty much screwed.  The following morning, the orange farmer comes out to inspect the damage.  His wife calls to him.  “Vlad!  Stop playing with your oranges and come in for a nice glass of cocoa”.  Vlad (which is short for Steven)did not like his wife interrupting him while inspecting his damaged crops, so he impales a rotting Orange with his walking stick.

Vlad, a placid man with hair like a sack of squashed worms and glasses that Harry Potter would be proud of, was not known for having a temper.  He hated his nickname (Impaler) because his walking stick looked like a sword.

After inspection, Vlad returns to the house and calls to his wife, Betty Lou.  It is obvious that the whole crop is ruined, so Vlad claims on his insurance to recover his lost costs. 

With the money, Vlad goes on a spending spree.  Via the medium of eBay, he buys a whole manner of weird and wonderful items ranging from the totally stupid “Change the colour of your urine” kit to the impressively useful “porcelain monkey figurine”. 

The porcelain monkey figurine arrived and was given pride of place on the mantelpiece.  A few weeks later, while Betty Lou was polishing the figurine, she drops it.  It smashes, and inside the remains she finds a map.  She calls Vlad who looks closely at the map.  It is a map of a castle in Romania showing some kind of buried treasure.

“Betty Lou!  Pack my bags, I am going on a treasure hunt!”  Vlad squeels with an excitement she has not seen since he first squeezed orange in the name of something other then juice.  “I shall pack our bags!” she replies. 

“Our?” Vlad replies and mutters incoherently as he leaves the room.

Upon making it to Romania, he gets a cab to his hotel room, ready for his adventure.  He feels an uneasy sensation as if he is being watched or followed, but realises that it is actually because of the tochitura dish and tuica, the plum brandy he had on the plane.  The uneasy sensation goes shortly after he emerges from his hotel bathroom.

The following morning, Vlad, with an eagerness of a puppy running round in circles needing to empty it’s bladder, heads off to find the castle.

Following the map to the castle, he realises he cannot get in while it is daylight, so hides in a dense forest to the south of the castle.  While hiding, he hears a voice, and hides behind a pile of leaves.

“Oh yeah, I will go get the dinner.  I will wash the dishes.  I have to do everything.  Blah blah blah.  Oh wont she shut up” the voice repeats over and over.  He looks up, and a Unicorn is walking through the forest talking to himself. 

Thinking that he may have had a little too much juice last night, he lays low.  Suddenly the Unicorn appears behind him.  “Hi, I am Unicov.  King of allll the Unicorns!” the Unicorn proclaims.  “Can I ask why you are in my forest?”  Vlad, taken back in surprise stutters, unable to string any words together.  “Oh come on, I am just a Unicorn.  But did I mention I am UNICOV!  KIIIIING OF ALLLLL THE UNICORNS!” Unicov proclaims again.  Vlad, gathering himself, replies back to him.  “You were just walking though this forest moaning.  Why are you  now a king?” “Oh” replied Unicov. “You heard that eh?”

Vlad explains to Unicov about the map and shows him.  Unicov is interested in helping him find the treasure, but warns that there is another group looking for the treasure.  A scraggly haired man and a brown talking dog.  And that they were going in to the castle tonight to get the treasure.   

As night falls, Vlad and Unicov make their way to the castle.  They can hear voices on the wall behind them.  They listen in, hoping to gain an advantage.

“Scooby, we need to climb over that wall.  There is a scooby snack in it for you if you suck it up and be a real man this time rather then the wimpy little git you normally are.  Don’t make me get Scrappy on the case again and leave you out of it.”  The other voice agrees and in a pathetically stupid voice, starts to climb the wall.

Unicov shows Vlad a path to an underground cavern which will lead them to the treasure.  Vlad is worried.  How does Unicov know the exact location of the treasure, but never went there on his own to get whatever treasure he is about to find.  To save confrontation with something with a long sharp pointy thing on his head, Vlad stays quiet.

A while in to the cavern, they hear the voices of Scooby-Doo and the other voice getting closer.  Trying to hide, they are spotted.  Scooby-Doo who turns out to be a talking dog of all things, comes after them.  “What is it with the damn talking animals in this country!” Vlad wonders.

Vlad and Unicov run, trying to get away.  Managing to lose him, they again make there way in a different direction towards the treasure.

There, where the X marks on the map, is a box.  It is a small box, but made of gold so shiny you could see your own face in it.  Which was lucky, as if you saw someone elses face in there it would have been scary as hell.  Not that a talking unicorn isn’t… 

Behind them, Scooby and the man appear.  “I think you will find that is our treasure.” Scooby says in a deeply stupid voice.  Unicov turns around sharply, as if ready for an epic battle.  He runs towards Scooby and Scooby starts running towards him.  They have an epic battle lasting at least 5 seconds before a deft strike of the pointy thing on his head, Unicov impales Scooby.  Scooby makes a noise like a wilderbeast farting and falls to the floor.  His partner runs in to the darkness of the cavern.

Vlad and Unicov make there escape from the castle agreeing to share the treasure together using the time honoured oath or rubbing each others pointy things until completely happy.

Time fades to black.

The sun is shining.  The orange tree’s surrounding Vlad stand strong and tall..  Baby Unicorns play between the tree’s.  In a box in the loft stands an open wooden box.  In the box lays a small gold box. ”

That was the story. I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did! Thank you so much SY!

I am only 23. And already feel tired. Tired of this lifestyle, tired of the fake people around me, and tired of flashing lights. As soon as I leave the house I get those pesky lights right in my face. That’s why I always wear XL sunglasses. It helps as a disguise too.

The only place close to home where I can relax a bit without being bothered seems to be Vegas. I always have a suite ready for me at the Palms there. A few people who have sworn the secrecy know me as Mrs. Smith, and all I have to do is tell them Mrs. Smith will be in town tomorrow.

I wear my hair messy and baggy clothes, cheap shoes and big sunglasses. Don’t want to give myself away. So far I was left alone, it feels good to walk the streets with no bodyguard and cameras chasing you. Sometimes when I’m all alone like this I start thinking too much, about where I am and about money. Yes, money. I have so much of it that, to be honest, I don’t even know where it all goes. My financial advisers take care of everything, all I have to do is swipe the credit card without even looking at the price. But when I’m alone like this and get to be normal again I realise how much people need money, that’s why I specifically asked my financial advisers to reserve as much as they think appropriate for charity.  But I’m so confused. I don’t feel like I own my money. And when I think like that I get depressed. Wouldn’t it be nice if I just left this lifestyle and start a family? I have enough to live a good life for the rest of my days. Hmmm….I’ll definitely do that in the future.

Now I’m back in my Prada and my Jimmy Choos. Flying back to L.A. With my goofy glasses on, I run away from a stalker. He’s flashing his camera at me. It’s OK, I’m used to it. I am back on schedule. Two parties tonight, lots of presents to buy, so a whole day shopping. Early rise tomorrow, on the set by 9, lunch with my boyfriend, fashion show in the afternoon, go to the gym later on, then meet with my agent. Yeah, I’m booked till autumn.

I can’t wait to go to Vegas again, be myself again. Or Mrs. Smith…Isn’t it funny how I can be myself only as passing as someone else?

      Let it be known, I am not Greek and don’t have anything to do with Windex.

But I love olive oil!

Some time ago, don’t remember when, this idea formed in my head, and I can’t get rid of it. I actually think I’ve found the cure for everything: olive oil.  So I went to the store and bought around 10 bottles of Extra Virgin Olive Oil (it has to be extra virgin, or it will not work!), and carefully and strategically placed it around my house: one bottle in the kitchen , one in the bathroom, one by my bed, one by the couch, and one, of course, next to my computer. The rest of the bottles I stored away, the other 5 will be done in no time.

Now you might be wondering what I’m actually doing with the oil. The one in the kitchen I use for cooking and salads, the one in the bathroom for hair oil, bath oil, the rest for lotion, make-up remover, etc.

I’m thinking of taking it to the next level, though… Take a spray bottle, mix the oil with some water, and spray it on everything. For cuts and scratches, allergies, stains, on my plants for better growth, on my cat’s fur, on smelly socks, etc . Put some olive oil in the water I’m drinking (maybe it’ll neutralize all the drugs in it), and take it as a medicine when I’m sick.

I wish some company would come up with the bottled spray olive oil, so I can buy it. They can call it Olivex.  The comercial would be like this: “Olivex - the cure for everything, spray it and relax!”   Until they do, I’ll just by Windex, pour it out, and replace it with olive oil. Then make a sticker with “OLIVEX” and stick it on the bottle…

I had the weirdest dream last night: I was an ELEVATOR!!!  And not just any kind of elevator, but one suffering from KINETOSIS (or motion sickness) and from ACROPHOBIA (fear of heights). I was an outdoor elevator too, sliding up and down on the side of a 50 story building. 

So in order to deal with my sickness and fear, both making me dizzy and on the verge of puking, I was trying to concentrate on the people inside, quietly listening to their conversations and watching them, praying that the next one in won’t push the ‘50′ button.

A young business man in a suit with a suitcase. As soon as he got in start picking his nose. Hiiihiii… thought nobody can see him.

A tall lady with two kids. Oh noo!! The little brats are pushing all my buttons! She raises her voice and yells at them. Good! That’s what you get for playing with my buttons!

10 people in this time. None of them talk or look at anybody. They’re all checking their phones.

Brad Pitt with no shirt on! What’s he doing?!? Start’s kissing me! Brad, stop! I’m an elevator! People will think you went crazy!

Now somebody called me and I’m moving up. I pass the 10th floor and I’m starting to get anxious. There’s nobody inside that I can concentrate on. I start moving faster and faster. I’m not looking down. I’m getting really dizzy. Now everything is spinning. The 20th floor…The 30th…My God! I suddenly come to a final stop at the 50th floor! I feel the wind blowing beneath my floor and above my ceiling. I’m holding my doors real tight. I slowly open my eyes and look around… Beautiful! I can see the whole city from here. Buildings, people, trees, mountains around, a view one does not often have. I stare for a while and don’t feel afraid anymore. I’m so close to the blue sky! I slowly start sliding down, until I hit the ground.

I didn’t know 50 rides the bus! Apparently his car got stolen (in Vegas) today, and he had to take the bus. We talked a little bit (more him than me, I was satisfied with listening), and he told me he’s rich (obviously! I knew that). I understand though, he felt the need to reinforce that, since he was taking… da bus. I said: “Yeah…Aaaaa….I’m rich too!” (his eyes got big) “I just…choose to take da bus! Ya see, it keeps me real!” (his eyes got bigger). He got off at the next stop.

I’ve liked Jesus better than 50… He didn’t invade my personal space, he actually didn’t even notice me. He was standing, and… preaching. About God, of course, and aliens. He was saying we are not alone (he got that information from the Lord Himself). When the bus stopped and everybody got off, he said: “Go into the world, children, and spread the word…so everybody knows we are not alone! Now I’ll go take the 202, the Flamingo people deserve to know as well!”  I said: “Oh, no! I’m taking that bus! Oh well, I’ll just wait for the next one.”

Jesus got on, and I waited for the next bus. Surprise… Santa was there… In the summer time…. He was in a wheelchair, with a big coat on, and a Santa hat. He had about 100 Vegas beads hanging from his neck, and a jar full of cookies in one hand… He was quiet the whole time. Didn’t say a word, he was just nibbling a cookie.

I wonder who will I meet tomorrow?

And if they’ll try to talk to me I’ll just say “ME NO ENGLISH!”

Even Cupid drank too much when he came to Vegas. He was drunk. At least he wasn’t drinking under the influence, he was… flying. Kinda hectic though, he hit a few flies and lost control, smashing against my window.

I heard the noise and rushed to see what it was. You can imagine my surprise when I opened the window and saw this tiny winged dwarf fallen in the grass, with a bottle of Bud in one hand (that was about his size). I picked him up and carefully placed him on my bed, and waited for him to wake up.

A few hours later, the little man was up, and told me he was here on a mission. Valentine’s almost here, he says, but everybody’s gonna have to make do without him this year. He was telling me this on a high-pitched tone while he was dusting himself off, fixing his feathers and running around the house. I could barely keep up with him.

 He saw my fridge and ran there, opened it and looked in for a second. I like beer, you see. Just from time to time I drink a glass with lots of lime. I like lime. I get the cheap beer since I’m not a drinker. I had a bottle of Red Stripe. A big bottle. Cupid saw it and grabbed it, along with a straw that he found in the kitchen. He opened the bottle, put the straw in and began sucking the beer out like it was soda. He then flew away, the straw still firmly between his lips, and the beer bottle (bigger than him) hitting the ground as he was losing or gaining altitude. Hiccuping all the way, until he was lost in the distance.

Speechless, I sat down at my PC and began writing this down. Is Cupid an alcoholic? That would explain a lot of things. Like empty bottles of beer falling from nowhere. I can only imagine how many people he must have hit with his arrows by mistake (and with his empty bottles of beer).

So my advice for you, don’t count on Cupid! Don’t wait for him to sober up, find love on your own, and have a happy Valentine’s!

It was in Paris when the profiling started.  The French people (together with some others) kept staring at my chest. No, no, don’t get me wrong. I had nothing to show, nothing except a tag I mean. Not that kind of tag, a name tag. Only that the name on the tag wasn’t mine. It was the name of my country. That’s what they were staring at. And of course when your country is not as big as France, as important as Germany, as rich as UK, or as liberal as Holland, they will think “I didn’t know that’s how you spell it.  Are they still communist over there? Do they speak Russian? Probably”.  Naaaah. They don’t think that. They think “I’m scared, let me pretend this people are not here and maybe they’ll go away”.

I was on my way to board the plane, like the other French, German, English and Dutch people. When three armed security officers stopped me. They pulled me on the side and said they want to check me. They seemed to have an interest in my shoes (nothing special, quite ugly and cheap). They wanted me to take my shoes off (and also my socks) and checked the inside. Maybe there’s where I was hiding my AK-47 or Uzzi. When they couldn’t find anything in there, they thought my purse would be a better place for an Uzzi. They took everything out, totally overlooked my pepper spray that had “Interpol Professional Super Paralisant” on it, and asked me why I have a Christmas ornament in my purse. It was summer, you see. So that was something weird. It was a gift for somebody I said. That didn’t convince them. They said they would have to retain my ornament for further evaluation. You can go on board now (the French, Germans, English and Dutch had finished boarding and were all staring at me again thinking “I hope she won’t sit next to me, she might be a terrorist. Who carries Christmas ornaments in their purse in summer?”). 

I was seated next to a guy that told me, in a language you might call English, that it was rude of them to make me take my shoes off. And that it was obvious they should have checked the purse first. And they forgot to look inside my jacket. Anyway, he said, welcome to France. And America, here we come. “Merde! C’est rien que de la merde!” I said back at him. He was surprised I knew French and left me alone the rest of the way. 

America, I hope you won’t make me take my shoes off….I was in an airplane for 15 hours and my feet stink. The Americans left me alone. Their war was with other small countries, fortunately. I didn’t have a beard, a Kaftan or a Shawl on my head (or a Sombrero for that matter). So nobody minded my small “Interpol Professional Super Paralisant”. America, I love you!

The first person I served today was a Scottish old man, that was only drinking Scotch. On the rocks.  He sent me back at the bar a few times cuz he thought the Scotch had a splash of Coke in it.  This was absurd, of course; first of all we don’t even have Coke (only Pepsi), and second of all I don’t make mistakes like that. I’m a pro. Anyways, I appologized for having added a splash of Coke and came back with another drink (that’s what he thought, it was the same one), and he said this time it was much better.

After having consumed  all the bar’s bottles of Scotch (we had quite a few, but I guess they didn’t expect a real Scottish man to come by),  I was ready to politely inform him that we ran out of it and that us, cocktail waitresses, work for tips (sometimes you have to specify that, not everybody knows).  He looked deep into his pockets and took out a pack of gum. He gave it to me saying thank you, and he left;

 After that, I served a very nice couple from Jamaica, and their friends. They had just gotten married, and their friends wanted to order some shots of tequila for them. 12 all together.  And after the first 12 another 12. And so on…

They tipped me 24 bananas.  I refused to serve them soon, I had way too many bananas, I couldn’t fit them in my locker anymore (plus I hate bananas, can’t eat them).

I went on to serve an old lady that was from Vegas. She had a big bag on her lap and asked if she can have a vodka on the rocks. Double.  I was surprised when the old lady drank it like water and said she wants another one.  She said she has some kittens in the bag and she handed one to me. A small white little cat. Then she left in a hurry, she said she’s going to miss her bus.

Then one of the homeless guys who hangs outside the casino came in (he was probably trying to stay out of the rain, sometimes it rains even in Vegas), sat down at a penny machine and asked me for a Long Island. Strong. Fine, I said. He tipped me a dollar.

I went home with 24 bananas, a pack of gum and a kitty. Oh, and one dollar.

This was better than the day before, when I went home with a sombrero, a cough syrup, and a Canadian coin. Thou I like the sombrero, it’s good for those hot summer days in the desert.

Everybody was talking about the heart thief. They were saying that after he steels a womens’ heart, she wanders the streets, no purpose, no destination, like a zombie, with a big black hole in her chest where the heart used to be.
I was scared, but I told myself that if I see him, I won’t look into his eyes, won’t talk to him, will just walk away…And I won’t go down without a fight. I have had my heart in it’s place for more than 20 years, I wasn’t going to let it go that easily. I was too used to it there, ticking in my chest…

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