Further Adventures of the Biking Girl

Hello to all tuskless walruses, pianos lingering over people’s heads, granola bars, flamingo-people and parrots on the shoulders of pirates.

I like going on bike rides. It’s no lie. There’s endless bike paths to follow around Onceabasementdogville, and the stores are so accessible, not like I have any money to access them for. I spent at least half an hour digging around the nuclear wasteland of my room for coins to buy a bottle of pop with, and came up with a loonie, ten cents and an American quarter. I also found a spiderweb where a spiderweb shouldn’t be and a weird bug that I’ll pretend I never saw.

So I donned my hat and pulled on my sweater and went out the door, Arcade Fire blaring in my earphones. The plan? Coffee. To waken my zombified, sleeping-in, school-missing brains, that is. So I went down to the Tim Hortons, squinting at the display board to try and figure out if my measly dollar-and-ten cents and American quarter would get me a coffee. I think I have bad eyesight, because it took me forever to figure out if the dollar and thirty-something cents was thirty-something or eighty-something. I still don’t know, I just dropped all my coins in the cashier’s hand and hoped it was good. I stared at him and hoped he’d overlook the American quarter, because honestly, I don’t know if they even take American money here where I am, not in America.

Anyway, I got my coffee, and went out and sat on the curb. I took out my notebook and started writing a little story. By the way, coffee tastes just like it smells: disgusting. The story I’m writing is about a girl living in the early nineteen hundreds. I don’t know what to call it, but I think it’s about stars or something. I took off again, having forced down two thirds of the coffee, which was all I could take. You know, I think caffeine doesn’t affect me that much, because after I drank it I went really really really really really fast on my bike and raced a squirrel but he was faster than me and ran up a tree which wasn’t fair and there was this BUZZING in my head and I can’t figure out what it was but anyway the big hill before the bridge was no problem, I went up it like, in five seconds flat, I assume my legs are getting stronger.

On the way home I went down the little path that went in front of all the big houses. There was this old lady walking by and she stepped aside and get this, I KNEW she would say something, and she did. She said in the haughty tones of a person from the rich end of town, “This is NOT a bike path.” Oh, okay. And I’m NOT going to make fun of you on my blog or anything.

For some reason my thoughts are going way faster than I can type and trying to write ‘me’ always come out ‘my.’ I don’t know why this is happening.

At one part on my bike ride these girls on a scooter passed me and they oinked at me, all right, whatever. I’m not a pig. At least I don’t think so. No, I’m pretty sure.

Jeez I think my head’s about to blow off. No more coffee ever for me, that was a bad idea.

I’m sure there’s more to say but running in circles for a long time is what I plan to do now. Okay, see you later, yours truly and stuff, ~Onceabasementdog.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, look at all those e’s! I can make more e’s! All I have to do is press down the E key. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.

 

You’re Welcome, Kenneth Oppel

Hello to all baskets of painted fruit, evil butterflies, dogs in swimming pools and dragon worshippers in San Francisco. 

I recently finished reading the second book in a series by the Canadian author Kenneth Oppel, which is… basically… about Doctor Frankenstein when he was a kid… and evil butterflies… and stuff. I liked the first book quite a bit more than the second one, though I did find things I loved in the second one, too. For instance: the evil butterflies. For another: the horrifying demon that tried to eat everyone at the end. And the sort-of evil, somewhat off his nut hero. Fun. 

It maybe sounds like I didn’t like it, but that’s not true. I really liked it. It’s just, I don’t know… it might’ve been a bit better. I kept rolling my eyes every time the demon roared in the distance and I almost hit my head against the wall when the mysterious ‘mist’ outside the house in the spirit world entered and killed the demon for them, like, poof ka-bam.

Anyway, now I have another year to wait for the third book, which I’m sure is inevitably coming. In the next one, our twisted hero will probably do something crazy again. You’ve gotta love Victor Frankenstein, am I right? History’s least accomplished, most possessed by evil forces mad scientist. I love Kenneth Oppel, and everything he writes is great (no matter how many evil butterflies there are) so I’m sure I’ll enjoy the next book, too. But… 

And then I had this great idea. I would write the third book FOR him. 

Oh, yes. I’m not kidding– I’m three pages in! So far: a mysterious message in a bottle that no one knows how to decode. Cool right? And I picked up on the last bit of the second book, where the evil, power-crazed hero sees a bolt of lightning and he thinks, WOW, SUCH ASTONISHING POWER! So I have the suspicion he’s going to be harnessing the power of lightning sometime soon. Therefore: what’s going to happen in my version of the third book in the series is, Doctor Frankenstein is going to be led to this weird guy who is trying to figure out how lightning works, and he’s going to learn from him and use it as a possible way to bring his dead brother back to life (which is the main theme of the last book, since his brother died and, I assume, will ultimately become Frankenstein’s monster.) 

 

So. Now I just have to let Kenneth Oppel know that I’ve got his third book covered, and it’s all good. 

I’ve noticed a trend in Kenneth Oppel’s books. In each of his three series, the first book is by far the best, the second is not as good, and the third is worse. So, if trends follow, the third book in this series will be the worst, too. As mean as it might sound, he really should just let ME write it. 

Adding to this topic, I loathe imagining how terrible the movie based on the first book, This Dark Endeavour, will be. Doubtless they’ll turn it into some kind of twisted romance, (because it does feature romance) and all the lovely horror and monsters and stuff will be put into the background. I hope the front of the actor’s head is as nice as the back of his head looks on the covers of the books. Seriously; I have yet to see his actual face. Well, if they’re hiding him for as long as possible because he’s horrendously ugly, at least the teenage girls won’t make a team out of him. God forbid that should happen. 

Anyway… and uh… about those American politics. Boring, aren’t they?

Okay, I can’t do it. I can’t write about serious things. Forget it! 

Yours truly, (gah! An evil butterfly landed on me and is sucking my life energy out to bring to its demon lord!), ~Onceabasementdog.