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 Posted: Tue Dec 25, 2007 12:56 pm
A box wrapped in snowflake paper and a blue bow, the name ‘Max’ written on it from a ‘Secret Santa’. Inside the box, under all the tissue paper a hardbound book called 'Fairy Tales selection from around the world', with a picture of a knight and a dragon on the cover. The book has fairy tales from around the world and it is mostly told by pictures. Also in a smaller box a small life-like otter in clear brown color for the fur and clear glass for its belly. Its posed sliding on is belly with arms back against the body.
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Posted: Mon Jan 28, 2008 11:52 am
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Posted: Sun May 04, 2008 9:18 pm
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Posted: Sun Jun 01, 2008 5:21 pm
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Posted: Sun Jun 01, 2008 5:27 pm
[ The ABCs and 123s ] A, B, C
D, E, F
G, H, I
J, K, L
M, N, O
P, Q, R
S, T, U
V, W, X
Y, Z
1 - 10
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Posted: Sun Jun 08, 2008 10:22 pm
A child is expected to know certain things at certain ages.
In order to obtain rights to their Dragon(egg), they must prove they can meet these requirements.
The following sheet is for your child to fill out, with mild help from their guardian, then sent back to D-corp. (PM ot the mule)
Also any changes, even minor such as haircuts, should be reported to the D-corp to be logged and filed.
Thankyou,
D-corp.
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Posted: Mon Jun 09, 2008 1:06 am
 Quote: Dear D-Corp,
First of all, I'm not impressed with the little surprise greeting me every morning; I wasn't prepared. This boy is tearing things apart left and right, and I'm apt to believe he has shaved at least ten years off of my life span. I'm already growing gray hairs!
Nevertheless, don't take my word the wrong way - I wouldn't return him if you begged, and I highly doubt you could have a tighter reign than I do on the Otter. He's quick to respond now, though I'll admit utterly disobedient. It's an impossibility to get him to cooperate 100%, but it's apparent that he's at least putting in an effort of respect. Or so I'm beginning to believe. We've made vast progresses through the gifting of fairy tale books (he's ... absolutely mad about Atlantis, you know?), and gold-fish snacks. I still can't get him to wear normal clothing, but he has agreed to wear something over his torso rather than running around half-naked in swimming shorts all day, no matter the weather. He's agreed to wear a vest provided he can keep it open and not button it up. He still fancies his red swim trunks, however, and it doesn't appear as if he is inclined to change his affiliation with shorts.
Another notation is the continuation of his pool-ring obsession. It's gotten to a point in which I believe it may be unhealthy for him. Still, he refuses to take them off, except when going to sleep or playing in the bath tub. He always wears them on his tail - every single one of them - and he's very inclined to count to ensure they are there. If one pool ring is missing, he panics like you wouldn't imagine. He's taken to a similar behavior regarding a necklace he found somewhere, only the air can guess.
His hair is a terrible mess, utterly disheveled and growing longer. It most definitely breeches his shoulders in length and the only way to describe it is 'jungle child'. He refuses to make the acquaintance of a hair brush, and I'm too nervous to take him for a hair cut. He's more likely to hurt himself under such a circumstance, and I'd rather not be explaining to an emergency room worker why an otter child has scissors protruding from his head. He's simply not still enough for a hair cut, and thus I'm afraid it's a lost cause.
Before I end this letter, I have to plead: tell me there is some form of sedative that can calm him down? He runs off without a word, in the middle of crowds. He's always sliding everywhere, yelling, shouting, talking fast and wreaking havoc. Certainly there has to be something that mellows him out!
Do let me know - and, again, be mindful that you wished for a handful with this one.
- Kenneth.
P.S.: As unusual as 'Pie' looks, please be aware that is simply what he calls me. Why? Anyone can guess. What goes through his mind is a mystery, and I'm not inclined to dispute him.
Also, please excuse the paint splatters. Let's just say there was an accident? If you can even call it an accident. Yeesh.
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Posted: Fri Jun 27, 2008 3:24 pm
[ The Secret Place, Pt. 1 ] To the adult mind, the frivolous endeavors of a child were a source of great amusement. There seemed to be nothing more entertaining than the wild clatter of premises to be the greatest this or that - and when one child showed little interest in an occupational decision, it was almost rather bizarre and empty. It was as if the little beings were sadly devoid of a soul. Therefore, the lacking exhibition of future interests beyond immediate gratification of his 'son' had been an alarming tedium for Kenneth. There was a mammoth wall situated between the two of them, in which Maximilian lived within a world of ephemeral and nonsensical joys, and in which Kenneth lived within a stark world of barren disappointments and unfulfilled fantasies. Such differences were conflicting matters, and the fictitious fancies Max took were all the more a frustration to the man looking for logical plans for the boy's education and future. It was a matter of concern, or something self-serving masked behind the guise of parental affection and worry. The frequent spats of this or that never seemed to cease, and thus Kenneth himself had become particularly weary of his misgivings.
Max was a wild boy filled with wonder and imagination, but lacking in his logistic ambitions. The posed inquisition of what he would like to be when he grew up always returned to 'someone fun', or some unseemly ideation of solving the riddles of fairy tales. If anything, Kenneth was apt to believe the boy mad with delusion, and whether or not he had self-induced it with his cultural lecturing was not something he pondered. In a way, it was relaxing to find the boy preening over old books, which he certainly could not read, or demanding the explanation of what this or that fell to mean. Kenneth enjoyed the attention and enthusiasm in which his expertise came to light; it was, perhaps, the only common ground the two appeared to share within their interests. The cultural musing of ancient myths, or of archaic texts, were a pleasureful lecture, and Kenneth took good pride in it whenever it came to light. Naturally, he was overjoyed that Max had an enthusiasm; at the same time, he was mortified by the child's insistence on uncovering the mysteries and proving the myth to be real. It was ludicrous - and Kenneth was particularly disappointed that he lessons were often lost to the lore. Nevertheless, there was a comfort that Max's scattered mind had settled on something interest; in that, he had appeared to calm down to a reasonable level, obeying if only for the sake of the convenience of being allied with a man who knew more than was necessary about the topics of interest.
This arrangement of boy and information provider had become a regular occurrence; thus it was of no surprise when Kenneth awoke early in the morning to find the young otter scouring the floor in search of a flashlight (and making a clatter all the while). With a yawn, Kenneth had quirked his brows. His feet had shuffled, stepping over books and papers on his way to the kitchen to beseech that long-standing fetish of kool-aid packages and flavored water. He hadn't bothered to grumble a word of curiosity until after his throat had been cooled - and by then the young otter had appeared to discover his lost flashlight.
"What on earth are you doing this early in the morning?" Kenneth had groggily spoken, continuing to sip at the flavored water.
A little hum had been given as Max tucked the flashlight into his backpack. A wide smile had donned the boy's face, and his whiskers had twitched excitedly as he gave Kenneth a glance. "I'm going to the secret place, of course." He had explained as he hoisted his bag up to his shoulders. With an uncanny lack of care, his hands had squeezed his blue vest, generating a series of wrinkles.
"Why do you have to be so difficult. Waking me up in the morning, causing such a ruckus. Look at this mess? No courteously at all; I think I'm cursed." Kenneth had moaned, shaking his head to himself. "Pick up your mess."
"I don't have the time!" Max had clacked his tail rings, giving a desperate, pleading look of haste.
The expression fell upon a heart of stone. Kenneth had given a grunt, blindly staring forward at the blurry atmosphere that was his home without his glasses. "You'll have time pending you remember that I'm not interested in playing games anymore. What did we talk about just recently? Explain."
Max had given a sour growl, folding his arms across his chest. Indeed, the discussions which had occurred were particularly unsavory, and their frequency had only driven the rift further between them. Such an authoritarian government never proved beneficial for the relationships of parents and children; but Max was coy, and soon found himself grinning jokingly, if not affectionately. "Do what you say or you'll take the book away." It had almost become a source of entertainment, the bitterness having been drained from the threat. Though Max had heard Kenneth threaten him more than once, the actions never seemed to occur.
"That's right, and you know I'll do it. You can't just go wandering off, sliding about, causing mayhem. That's not civilized, and what have you learned about civilization?" Kenneth had taken another sip from his kool-aid.
"Uhm..." Max had found himself perplexed, not wholly understanding the musings. It was to be expected that a child his age would not particularly understand the theories of civilization - especially with such a short attention span and seemingly dim-witted set of goals. "I..."
"Never mind. Just pick up your messes, would you? Please?" Kenneth had shuffled somewhat, feeling his way back to from the kitchen to his chair within the room. "... And tell me where you're going."
Max had heaved a sigh as he did as he was told, somewhat disgruntled by his own submissiveness. Yet, he liked Kenneth - and through all their confrontations and wild entropy, Max had developed a particular respect for him based on loose limitations. It wasn't much to clean the floor, or to give some location. Though Kenneth had never said it, there was a tacit understanding of worry and care which Max could sense. With given respect, there was nothing wrong with putting the man's mind at ease - and so, as he cleaned, he uttered the location of his 'secret place' in the vaguest way possible.
"The Wood. I like it there." He had explained, shuffling papers into a stack. He had grumbled a little as he set them down and gathered the books. "There's a lagoon.", he had further explained, feeling overjoyed by the image within his mind. He had always longed to see good water up close. Lakes, rivers, the ocean. He adored them in pictures, and his discovery of a nearby source had only filled him with intrigue and happiness. "It's okay, right? Rightrightright?" He had spoken quickly, clacking his tail rhythmically.
Kenneth had felt himself laughing. The things he got into, but it seemed right enough. It had taken time, but if there was one thing he had done, he had broken in a bit of expectation. The anarchist revolution of a child seemed nothing more than a segment of history, and he supposed there was really no stopping the boy from going in the first place. He was far too fast, and Kenneth was blind and aging. "What's the deadline?"
"When it starts to get dark." Max had retorted hotly, puffing out his chest as if to prove he understood the arrangements and would not break them pending Kenneth's end were kept. If Max were good, that meant goldfish snacks and an endless flow of information, stories, and games or outtings. It was a desired thing, and thus Max had taken to keeping up with the arrangements dedicatedly ... Or as well as he could. He was, and always would be, somewhat slow and difficult. It was easy for him to be lost in his activities, and as such it was easy enough for him to break his promises while wallowing somewhere in the wilderness which Kenneth would not venture.
"And what's in your bag?" Kenneth had asked.
"Uhm..." Max had wrinkled his nose. He really didn't know, and this checklist of things that followed each morning he were caught before leaving the house was almost tedious.
"You can go." Kenneth had leaned forward, smiling somewhat. "Don't go into the deep water - and, Max, for the love of anything, think before you do something stupid."
"Alright!" The caution had been lost to the wonder, and with a leaping bound Max had hurried along out of the house, leaving Kenneth in the dust to be worried and old.
Kenneth had sank in his chair, setting his drink down and shutting his eyes. For anything sweet, he was particularly confused about such affections and pondered going after the boy to ensure his security. Nevertheless, he was tired, and thus he only returned to sleep after a short while - silently laughing at the ridiculous adventures he assumed his boy were undertaking. The wonders of his frivolous occupational endeavors struck a chord somewhere within his memory, and so Kenneth found his pleasure within his nostalgia as he slumbered.
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Posted: Mon Aug 04, 2008 9:11 pm
An Unexpected Call
It seems D-Corp has contacted you and told you to bring your child in for a check up immediately. Very little information was given to you over the phone other than the fact that it was critical that they be brought in as soon as possible.
Once at D-Corp you are directed to Dr. Acklin's office. He's running about writing things down and clicking away at some keyboards. Once he notices you he seats you and your child down immediately to take a blood sample.
The sample is run right away in the back of the office the doctors face in the computer screen the whole while. After almost an hour of being told to wait patiently the test results are finally done and you are told you are free to leave. No information is given as to why you were so urgently called in however you were assured that your child is perfectly healthy and that there is no reason for alarm.
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Posted: Sun Oct 26, 2008 6:11 pm
[The Secret Place, Pt. 2] The scent of fresh air had found the path to Max's lungs as he strode along the dirt path. His chest had been puffed out; his arms had been stretched high above his head as he rhythmically shifted forward. It felt wonderful to be lost within the realms of nature, with nothing more than a backpack of supplies dictating his necessities. It was a treasure, a bounty, which he sought, and the excitement emanating from his petite form was palpable. He owed the information giver, the care-taker, the pie, for so willingly permitting him his exploration of the day. He could feel the water about his fur long before he had even reached the shore, and he could nearly imagine the many articles which could be found within the confines of the small lagoon. Keys to fantastical places, treasures possessed by ancient hoodlums, emblems of gods who long since could not exist. Perhaps he could even find the source of the rain. Perhaps he could even find the key to the sky, to see for himself what caused the water to fall if they were indeed tears of something enormous and gifted with flight.
Max was a naive young boy with many dreams. His mind teemed with creativity wrought on by educational topics that may have otherwise seemed dull. The magic and lore contained within such an education left him stunned. The world was nothing without magic, without mystery, and without the opportunity to solve it, though Max would never tell a stern adult of his exploits or ambitions. He wanted to be the one to solve the world's many mysteries. He wanted to find the lost continents, the lost civilizations. He wanted to combat cannibals ravaging small islands; and he wanted the treasure. The treasure was the greatest quarry of all, and it would all be his one day. The fame, the glory, the honor, and the experience. It would be an achievement not even Kenneth could ignore, so he believed.
Thus, as Max walked with a pop in his step, he found himself smiling. His head had twisted with his flexible figure as he observed the foliage and dirt. There was a sign he could remember, a sign that had led him once, and would lead him again, to the lagoon's shallow waters. It had taken him time to find it, but once he had, he had cleared it of the greenery which had overshadowed it for what appeared an eternity. His fingers had nit-picked away at the vines, scratched away at the moss, and he had smiled at the directional arrow pointing off of the path to lead him down the craggy stretch to the water. A deep breath had been taken as his shoulders shifted upward. His eyes had gleamed with youthful jubilation as he went along the way, nearly dancing from foot to foot. The wind had rustled the plants, shifting the abandoned leaves and twigs in swirling cartwheels about his legs until he had touched the lukewarm sand. He had sank into it, shivering with elation for a moment; then he had dashed. He had tossed his bag onto the soft ground, and it had lodged like a heavy cinder block. He was light, airy, as he scurried along, tripping over himself and into the sand until, like a desperate fish, he had found cool water rushing through the hairs on his body. It was refreshing, revitalizing. Every inch of him felt as if an elixer of great strength had been injected into him. There was a coolness to it; he felt sleek, and fast, his body twisting lightly against the shallow floor, winding in loops with a trail of bubbles following and popping. Had he not needed air, he may have never returned to the surface. For that reason, he wished he were a fish. For fish did not need the air, or the ground, or the dirt. The fish could live in the water. They never had to lay within a bed at night and sleep, dreaming of it. They could explore the oceans, the seas, the rivers, whenever they wanted to. Unlike him. He who had never seen the river up close, only the lagoon. There was an instinctive draw to the idea of the river that sent a thrill throughout Max. It flowed with the body. It had a pace, a quick moving, unpredictable pace. It was wild. You could never set foot in it twice, never swim in it twice, for it would always change and carry you along as a friend. The river. Just envisioning it had almost made the lagoon seem less precious; yet it had its own perks with its steady current.
Max's head had jolted into the ceiling of the water, piercing it like a dagger. He had inhaled a deep breath, laughing to himself as he smacked his tail, watching the rings fumble about to the edge. He had flung them without much thought, diving in after them as he swam and gathered each one with quickening ease. Until something had distracted him.
His favorite ring of all had rested near a stony looking shell; its vivid red was a contrast to the dull and lifeless formation. Nevertheless, something had captivated him. With a quizzical look, Max had approached the two objects, returning the red ring to its proper location upon his tail. His whiskers had quirked as he grasped the shell. As if it were burning fire, he dropped it immediately, for what rested below it seemed far more interesting. It shimmered from beneath the distorted light of the sun. A blueness overtook him within the form of a small jewel, a necklace, of metallic swirls grasping tightly to a sapphire. Quickly he had grabbed it before finding the need for air once more. Then he had found his way to the shore to rest a moment and think.
He had just found something.
And it had a story to tell.
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Posted: Sun Oct 26, 2008 6:15 pm
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