The Sound of Life

9/26/13 - "The Sound of Life"

Blogger's Note:  First, some business.  I've been paying attention to the "viewership" 

and I noticed that people tend to tune in on Wednesday's or Thursday's which is

understandable considering that that's when I promised new episodes to be published.

I posted one on a Saturday a couple of weeks ago, and I noticed that the majority 

of views still came on Thursday.  And something similar occurred on my next post.  So...

I'm going to go back to the original plan and shoot for a Wednesday release but settle for a 

Thursday release.  It seems to have the best reception.

     

Now on to today's feature.  

The other night, while I was still considering the blog subject for this week, I received an

amazing email.  DJ had sent me something that he had written for a school assignment that

he wanted to share with me.  I cannot put into words all of the emotions that I was feeling

as I read this.  Pride was pretty damn high on the list.  

Someday, I will write about our pre-Joanna days.  They were stormy.  The times shared with

DJ were rays of sunshine. 

I recall teaching him how to play chess when he was five years old.  He picked it right up.  He actually beat one of my friends one day.  And, of course, the piano...

DJ truly flatters me in his prose.  But, the truth is, he is much better at playing than I am.  He plays guitar, piano, and saxophone much better than I could at his age.  He has a much stronger grasp for melody than I do; he has taken everything that I have taught him and ran further than I ever could.  I listen to him play when he is here, and often times I will come into his room and ask him "what was that?"  And now he teaches me...

     This narrative was the first sampling of prose that he has ever shared with me.  I see in it another talent that I didn't know he had.  I hope he continues to sharpen this tool as well, because it is already formidable.

He is a young man now.  Almost in college.   A good person.  A talented person.  We are fortunate that he is such a good soul, because he has a deadly mind.   

Thank you for sharing this with us, son.  I love you.

The Sound of Life

Everyone has those moments in their life. The ones they just can't forget. Those moments are special to them. But what is special? Most would categorize it as an adjective that gives something a meaning of closeness, or the feeling of comfort. Someone may have a special teddy bear. They may have a special blanket. But in every one of those items, special exists. I believe special is not something so simple as an adjective to describe such things. It is a feeling derived from passion or love of something one may not understand completely. Special is a feeling I use to describe the first memory I have of my dad playing piano for me. From this first memory onward begins my adventure into the world of music, which would mold and shape my life to where it is today, and I am very glad it was there for me.

One fall evening my Dad pulls up to my house. “Hey! What's up little man? Ready to go to the Gray Cabin?” he asks. “Of course I am dad! Let's go!” Me being 6 years old I was always eager to hang out with my dad. He and my mom divorced when I was 8 months old and I got to see him every other weekend since. He isn't just my dad, he's one of my best friends. I think that came from me not being around him all the time. I got to see him only ever so often, and those moments were great. We never fought, we played sega and nintendo together, we did so many things back then I can't remember them all. But the most intriguing memories I have with my dad are those from the Gray Cabin.

Down by Kentucky lake you can rent houses to stay in, and pay rent like an apartment. This place was down a gravel road and it goes down into a bowl shaped with little gray houses lining the sides. My dad lived in one of these, and this is where my love for music began. My dad has played piano for over 25 years now, and every time I go to his house I hear something new. He knows every scale, every interchangeable chord, and every note top to bottom. Back in the Gray Cabin he had a 50-60 dollar keyboard, a small synthesizer if you will. It played all kinds of sounds from normal piano to guitar. One sound, though, was always on. It was a funkadelic laser kinda sound, and it made my ears tingle. This is what interested me the most.

After eating a bowl of chef boyardee ravioli, I would scurry back to “my room” (a little side room where my games were located) and play nintendo. My dad would then sit in the living room playing piano. I don't know what it was that day, but I wasn't paying attention to the game anymore. Something about what my dad was playing, the way it sounded, the way the notes rolled off his fingers, through the circuits, and out the speakers, or just the way it lit up the house, but I was hooked. I dropped my game and ran into the living room, watching him play. The sight was amazing! His hands were a blur, moving up and down, his fingers moving into positions I didn't even know were possible! I had to try this, I had to see what I could do.

“Dad let me try! Let me!” he moved over and I sat down. I pressed a few keys and I knew something was different. I knew this would affect me in so many ways. I just didn't think about it at the time. All I could do was press random keys until my dad finally gave in and decided to show me a simple song he had learned a long time ago. Most people know it as chopsticks, but I've always called it Heart and Soul, and it will always be that to me. The song was a lot more simple than it looked, left hand playing a repeating bass line and the right playing the melody. However, me being 6 didn't add any easiness to the process of learning. My hands were small and it was hard for me to understand at first. But I never gave up.

Time after time, I would get to my dad's house and go straight to the piano, sometimes even skipping my routine bowl of ravioli. Piano started meaning more and more to me. My dad kept showing me the keys, and how to press them. Timing and rhythm were no problem for me, I had a natural ability for it. Music comes to me naturally, and learning the piano proved it. I was able to use my ear to find the notes after a while, my dad sitting back and watching instead of showing me where to place my hands. I got increasingly better at the right hand part, being able to go for a few notes without messing up.

After about a month of playing I got it down completely. The right hand was no problem, I could play it with my eyes closed. But then the dreaded left hand came along. What was I going to do? All my 6 years of living I had used my right hand, and then this? This was worse than fear. It was worse than not knowing. This was not being able to do it. Being a 6 year old piano player that JUST learned one part of a song, you know I was happy. But when faced with the left hand monster... I got discouraged. The more I tried, the better I got. Of course right? But the catch was HOW MUCH better I got. Never too much, and I only was able to practice every other weekend. However, one day, with my belly full of ravioli and a mind full of imagination, I walk to the piano and do it. Out of nowhere, I do it. The left hand monster left me, and I have no clue how it happened. Was it magic ravioli? Or my mind matured over the weeks I wasn't at my dads? No clue. But hey, it worked!

That day was a very happy day indeed. I could play each part with the respective hands. Great for a 6 year old right? Impress some people, hear the praise from your family. But I didn't stop there, oh no. What was left? Putting the two together. How was it possible? This song was COMPLETELY different on each respective hand, and putting the two together? HA! Good one. But wait, something in my 6 year old brain was telling me to do it. Something... clicked. It was like, I saw the piano in a whole new way. I was able to determine positions of each note respectively, and using the next note as an indicator, could move my fingers to the right notes each time. Is a 6 year old supposed to be able to do that? I dunno, but I did. And it was amazing.

Doing what I (and probably a lot of people) thought was impossible, was out-of-the-park amazing. I mean, I wasn't playing Bach or Mozart, but realizing I can play with 2 hands? That is a HUGE step in the music world. After that, I was able to learn things by my dad showing me once. He taught me “the jazz scale” and “the circle of fifths”. These things helped me later on and I am now able to create a song on the fly. But have you ever heard of a gateway drug? Something that you get addicted to, or like a lot, and it makes you wanna try more? Piano was this. It was MY gateway drug. In 6^th grade I joined band. Alto sax. The sound that instrument made soothed my ears to the point of passing out from the amazing feeling. But there was a problem... I never practiced.

I was always able to pick things up, and I've never read music before. I mean sure, I could identify certain notes on a staff, but that was about it. In band, everything changed when the playbook attacked. All these notes and lines on the staff were supposed to match up with the buttons on my sax! How in the world did that work? I don't know, but I made it work. I was able to associate the notes with hand positions on the sax, and so I wasn't really reading music, but memorizing where my hands go. In other words, I could spot-read very well. That means I could take a piece of music and play it right off the bat. That's why I didn't practice, but my mom didn't understand that. So at the end of 6^th grade, she made me return my saxophone because she wouldn't pay for something I didn't do. And while I can't blame her, I still knew how to do it. Things come and go I suppose.

Then came high school. It was everything people said it wasn't. So many bullies, people who hate you for no reason... etc etc. But still, I had music for me, and lo and behold! There was an acoustic guitar class! WOAH! I've never played guitar! Lets do it! So begins my journey of learning guitar. Getting one, teaching myself to play from youtube videos, and meeting a GREAT friend who would teach me things while I could teach him others. The mutual feeling there greatly helped me through freshman year, and that friend taught me much more than any teacher could. He would later move, and we parted ways, never to speak again... so far that I know.

So it's been 3 years since I've started guitar, and I must say I've gotten pretty darn good. I got my first good electric a few christmases back, and I've started learning solo's and rock songs. Life's been good. I've never met another person that can play piano like I can, because everytime I hear or watch someone play, the timing always sounds off, which is a blessing and a curse. I've met plenty of people better at guitar than me, and I LOVE learning from them. I've even helped a few people get started on their musical career and it's made me feel a lot better about my ability as a musician. You know that if you can influence others, good things will come your way... eventually....

                                                                            "DJ"- Harold Duane Edwards III

Chapter 5 - Flowers

                                                       9/13/13 - "Chapter 5 - Flowers"

     Blogger's Note:  In 2011, DC Comics relaunched its universe.  They wanted to re-imagine the characters and to modernize their personalities and their costumes.  When the announcement was made, I wondered how they were going to pull off this stunt.  They have 52 titles in their "universe", and I didn't understand how they were going to start all of these superheroes off at ground zero.  How could Batman put on his cape and cowl for the first time in his comic, while Superman was just getting settled into his new job at the Daily Planet, and yet, somehow or another, they were both fighting side-by-side with other heroes as a team in the Justice League?  Did that mean that the comics weren't running concurrent?  How could they manage some epic crossovers if these titles weren't happening at the same time?
     But they did something that I thought was ingenious.  They started all of the titles five years later.  Such a resourceful idea would solve so many problems for us obsessed with continuity.  DC purposefully left a gap.  The missing time could be filled with all manner of problematic scenarios.  How did Green Lantern know that Superman was weak to kryptonite?  oh... he learned that during the missing 5 years.  How did the Flash and Batman know where the Fortress of Solitude was?  oh.... they learned that during the missing 5 years.  And so on and so forth...
     Not only did this give them a back door to some of the toughest connivances, this ruse also left open a surplus of "flashback" stories.  Now, I need an idea like this.
     Our story has topped the first hill on our trek.  Our "How We Met" story has already told "How We Met."  Phase 1 is complete.  So now on to Phase 2 which I think I'll call our "How We Fell in Love" story.  So I have to narratively shift gears.
     And shifting gears isn't easy.  I mean I could pick up the story right where we left off.  But the day after "The Pollock Joke" would just be the drab lethargy of nursing a hangover.  Even if I were to pick up at our first "healthy" day after the last chapter, you'd still just be watching the grass grow.  I just don't think I'm creative enough to make those early days interesting or humorous.
     For the first time since I started writing this story, I literally pulled out a pen and paper.  I started outlining Phase 2.  And I started with the last chapter in this segment and worked backwards because I know how this part is going to end.  I just don't know how in the hell it's going to begin.  Not to mention, this happened nearly seven years ago (damn, has it been that long already?).  I needed to get things chronologically ordered lest I'm guilty of one of those continuity fouls that I'm always preaching against.
     I've already used so many of my good ideas during Phase 1 that I feel I've raised the bar beyond my capabilities.  I've got the keys to this bird jingling in my head, and I'm approaching the runway with childlike uncertainty.  So, strap in and hang on.  I know where we're going, and I'll get us there if I can just get this damn thing off the ground.  I'm just going to push this and pull that.. ..what's that?  I'm not clear for take off?  And turn this thing off.  Who's that out there on the wing?  Oh, it's those luggage guys!  They sure look excited about something!  Guess I'll hit the throttle now...  hold my beer and watch this...

     "What do you want?"
     Lisa always yelled on the phone.  As comfortable as she could be in social situations, she could be just as uncomfortable with modern technology.  She had a blunt way about her that could leave you laughing and tormented with a single sentence.  Lisa was usually so loud and boisterous that it was impossible not to trust her.  When she answered her phone with a snappy question, I wasn't offended.  I knew that Lisa was just being Lisa.
     "Could you do me a favor?" I asked meekly.
     "Well, I knew you weren't calling to chitchat.  Like I said... what do you want?"  I could detect the humor in her voice and proceeded accordingly.
     "Could you stop at Huck's on your way to work?" I asked.
     "What do you need from Huck's?"
     "You know those flowers they sell up by the register?  Could you pick up a bouquet of those, and I'll pay you back when you get to work.  I'm running late or I'd get them myself."  I glanced at my watch to affirm the information; once I saw the time, my gas pedal foot got heavier.
     "Who're the flowers for?" Lisa prodded.  I knew that one was coming.  I decided avoiding an answer would be futile.
     "They're for Joanna.  She was telling me yesterday that today is International Women's Day.  Apparently, they celebrate in Poland by buying women flowers.  I figure since she's so far from home, it'd be a nice gesture."
     "Awww, Duane.  That's nice.  Of course I will!" she yelled.
     "Hey, thanks Lisa.  I owe you one."
     When I hung up, my mind wandered to the night before.  Stacey had suggested that Joanna make us a typical Polish dinner; she wanted to see what their food was like.  We all gathered at Stacey's house where we anxiously sampled Polish cuisine.
     She had started the evening with barszcz which is a brothy, beet soup.  I'm not a picky eater; however, beets are just about the only food I don't like.  I never told her that.  Instead, I politely thanked her for the soup and ironed myself to the task of swallowing the starter.  Neon purple liquid pooled onto my spoon and laboriously traveled to my mouth like a dose of reptile blood.  I held the sampling behind a gritted smile as she asked me what I thought of it...
     ...and much to my pleasant surprise, I liked it.
     Now, truth is, I wouldn't go so far as to say I liked it, but I could eat it.  It wasn't horrible.  New potatoes and a smokey, bacon flavor masked the wretched taste of beets and made the job of finishing the appetizer much easier.
     The main course was much better than the kickoff.  A pork kotlet is basically what it sounds like.  It's a pork cutlet hammered thin and fried.  She had teamed it with mizeria, which is a salad of cucumbers and sour cream, and mashed potatoes.  Once I had finished off the last morsel of food on my plate, I looked around and saw that Stacey and her husband had done the same.  The Polish girl could cook!
     After dinner, we all sat around drinking beer and doing random shots of tequila.  It was two o'clock in the morning by the time we had adjourned, and the realization that I was going to be headed to work in a few hours dreadfully strummed on my responsibility chords.
     We had been doing a lot of this sort of thing over the past couple of weeks.  Joanna and I would rendezvous after work with any combination of Matt, Stacey, Crystal, or Chris or anyone else from the buffet that might be up for effervescent beer or barmy laughter or stoic conversation.
     "When I was in Puerto Rico, I did banquets of two thousand people every day.  This is nothing."  Like sludge in my spokes, the bane of Enrique's voice cut through my pleasant thoughts as I drifted from the clouds to my work station.  The screech of a sliding table was followed by the clap of chair legs striking a wood floor.  Apparently, he was busy in the adjoining steakhouse restaurant setting up for a large volume of expected business.    
     "Who do you think you're talking to?"  I recognized the rebuttal as belonging to Ralph, the lead steward.  Ralph was the only person in the buffet that stood as tall as Enrique; he was well respected as a hard worker and for having little tolerance for bullshit.  The deep resonance of his voice was followed by his trademark, hearty laughter.  "How about you get your lazy ass out of Dream Land and help me move these tables?  You can't even set up for two hundred without taking five breaks and you think I'm gonna believe you can handle two thousand?  Now, that's good!"
     "Pfft!"  Enrique rounded the corner from the steakhouse into my work station carrying a mostly empty glass.  Obviously headed to the Mountain Dew, I ducked out of his way.  I smiled to myself as I could still hear Ralph laughing at Enrique's spurious claim.
     After filling his glass, Enrique began returning to the steak house with his refreshment.  He paused as he passed me.  In a low, dagger voice, he addressed me.  "You and Joanna sure are hanging out a lot," he said.
     I nodded and smiled politely, but didn't say anything.  I swung around him and busied myself by adding sugar to the tea urn.  Peripherally, I could still see him standing there debating on pursuing the conversation.  After an awkward moment, he continued back to the steakhouse where Ralph greeted him with a sarcastic, "Two thousand!  Now that's good..."
     "Here you go, Duane!"  Lisa's rambunctious announcement paired with her arrival detoured me from potential ire.  She handed me a colorful bouquet of flowers; I reached for my wallet.  "How much was it?" I asked her.
     As I pulled my wallet out, she pushed my arm away.  "Don't worry about it," she challenged.
     "You can't be serious.  They're from me!" I rebuked.
     "That's right.  They're from you."  Reluctantly, I returned my wallet to my back pocket.  I could have countered, but I knew Lisa well enough to know how fruitless that would have been.  She smiled triumphantly and went to work.
     I didn't waste any time.  Peeking around the corner, I spotted Joanna concentrating on her opening duties at the hostess station.  Poised and winsome, I held the flowers behind my back and energetically strode to the Polish girl.
     She looked up from her work.  Innocent of any conspiracies, she could see by my mischievous expression that I was up to something.  "What are you doing?" she asked suspiciously.
     "Aw, nothin'," I coyly uttered.
     She appeared unbelieving.  Incapable of maintaining the ruse, I produced my surprise from behind my back wearing a cheesy smile.  "Happy Women's Day," I offered.
     In this day and age of modern fashion and flashy jewelry, where name-brand handbags and clothes with glamorous labels adorn the trend-setters, I possess one pearl of wisdom that I'll share with any man that hasn't already learned this lesson.  Never, ever, ever underestimate the power and influence that a simple bouquet of flowers has over women.
     Joanna's face brightened like the sun after a storm.  A smile that I had grown to love stretched across her face and illuminated her features with a breath of joy and gratitude.  Her blue eyes, focusing from the flowers to me, were now brilliantly hued by the arrangement.  "Thank you," she said at last.
    I beamed with pride, suddenly realizing exactly how great an idea this had been.  Turning around, I spotted Lisa peeking around the corner of the station, delightfully beaming.  We shared a smile of collusion as I returned to the station.
    Later that day, after the lunch rush dissipated, I spotted Joanna busy rolling silverware.  I took the opportunity to explain to her how I had special ordered the rare flowers from Italy, and I had been hoping that the courier would be able to safely extract them without killing them.  She continued to smile as her eyes clearly stated that she knew that I was full of shit.
     "You picked a good day to bring me flowers," she finally said.
     "Oh, yeah?  Why's that?" I asked.
     "My boss is being a jerk.  He's pissed because I'm behind on some of my paperwork.  He doesn't like me; I can't stand him," she explained.
     "What's his name?  I'll have him killed," I joked.
     "Raul.  He's from Ireland.  I can't even stand to hear him talk.  He's the reason I had to come here while all of my friends are in Destin.  I cried when he tell me I have to come here," Joanna confessed.
     "An Irishman named Raul?  Even sounds like a jerk!" I consoled.
     "Usually he gives me shit because of nothing.  For the first time, I actually am behind on some paperwork.  Oh, well, I'll get it done tomorrow..." Joanna continued.
     "Oh yeah, speaking of tomorrow, I was gonna ask you if you'd eat with me tomorrow night..." I began.
     "Eat with you?"
     "Yeah.  Do you like crab legs?" I asked.
     "Eww, not really.  I do not eat seafood."
     "Well, come with me anyway.  It's all-you-can-eat crab legs on Wednesday nights at Whaler's Catch; I hate eating by myself.  Come with me and I'll buy you dinner.  They have other things besides crab legs.  Oh, and they have beer."
     "Oh.  Ok.  Well, then I come."
                                                   (to be continued...)
   
Continue our "How We Fell in Love" story:
                                        Chapter 6 - The Catfish Revelation
   
   

     

Fitzky Kabitzky the Stupid Dog

                                                  9/7/13 - "Fitzky Kabitzky the Stupid Dog"

     Blogger's Note:  I have a cohort.
     Between posts, I mentally outline how I'm going to present certain topics or crank out another chapter in the "How We Met" story.  I like to be original; I like to be creative.  I emphasize the importance of structuring the links between features so that continuity and cohesion flow.  I'm bothered to no end when I realize after posting something that I left out a particular point or a chronologically-critical happening that I'll have to somehow correct in the next post.  Which is why I sometimes zone out at work or in my car, especially when I catch a whiff of prolific clarity from a bubbling stew of ideas.  Then, the process moves into the "seasoning" stage.
     The "seasoning" stage occurs once I've already settled on a particular course of delivery and need a dash or two of anecdotes or outrageous hyperbole or pedestrian dialogue.  The difference between acceptable prose and good writing swings from the arms of the mundane, and striking this wily pendulum requires a finesse and articulate grasp of character which often leaps just out of my reach.  And that's when I call on my cohort.
     You may remember Matt from the "How We Met" story?  That's him.  Matthew Reynolds.  He is a co-worker, a friend, and a neighbor.  And today he will be getting married.  But more on that in a minute...
     Matt has this remarkable grasp of people and their mannerisms.  He does some eerily accurate impressions and possesses a genuine understanding of which gear a particular storyboard is shifting from or to.  He knows the value of comedic timing and the necessity of commonplace dialogue.
     So, once I feel that I've comfortably outlined a post-worthy notion, I taste the brew at conceptualization before putting pen to paper.  And if it tastes a little too drab, I'll add some "Matt" to it.
     "Hey man, what's something that Enrique might say in Situation A?  What's something that might have been tossed around in a conversation with a customer?  What's a typical response from Character B in Situation C?"  And so on and so forth...
     Matt always delivers when I need fillers for the gaps.  Sometimes, we'll literally be practicing dialogue when someone will walk into the station wondering 'what the hell are these two going on about?'
     I told Matt a few weeks ago that I had an idea for a feature about our dog, Fitz.  Or maybe about kids and pets.  Or maybe about the pro's and con's of animals around babies.  And then, he gave me the idea for this particular feature.  And, in return, I promised to give him credit for the idea.  Now, I can't say yet exactly what that idea is lest it ruin this week's post before you even read it.  But, after discussing the subject with him, Matt gave me a winner of an approach.
     Before I get to that however, I want to point out that in a couple of hours, I'll be getting ready to go to the much anticipated wedding of Matthew Reynolds and Taylor Ann Holley.  I'm not usually a big fan of weddings, because I usually sit there thinking, 'this sucks.  these assholes will be divorced by next year.'  But, I can gladly and honestly say that I don't feel that way with these two.  Matt is one of the most responsible people I know, and Taylor is one of the sweetest.  She is a major advocate of pet adoption and a ferocious hater of animal cruelty.  I can happily say that I wish them both the brightest of futures; tonight I'll merrily raise a beer in celebration of you both.

     Oh my God!!!!!!!!!   What's that!?!?!?  Who's out there???
     It's that guy that puts papers and things in the box that's attached to the house!  I'm going to yell at him like I did yesterday and the day before that and the day before that and... what's that?
     Oh my God!!!!!!!!  IT'S A CAT!!!!!!
     I'm going to yell even louder now!!!  Whoops, my claw just ripped the back of the couch.. oh, well, the Human Man will pay to fix it.  That's the good th...  oh, shit.. I fell off the couch.
     What's that smell??
     It's coming from the food room.  Oh.. OH... OH!!!  It's coming from the box with the lid where they put the smelliest food.  I got to get in there.  It's a new box now!!  It has a lid on it that doesn't come open easy... but if I grab the bag where it sticks out with my teeth.. and pull.. like this.. and yank.. it falls over!!! yes!!!  now.. to just rip this thing that way and pull this thing that way.. and now I'm back in the couch room and one of the chairs in the food room fell over and finally....
     I got inside the smelly food box!!!
     WOOOHOOOO!!!!!  There's old meat and moldy bread and cracker crumbs and candy wrappers!!!  JACKPOT!!!!  
     Well, shit.. wasn't as much to eat there as I thought there'd be.  And now this place is a mess!  Human Man is going to be pissed!  I hate when he gets like that!  Like that time I ate the food he'd just brought in and he put me in the food box and closed the lid.  Thankfully, Human Woman got me out of there!  Whew!!
     Guess I'll go back to the window and yell at things now.  Hopefully, Human Woman gets home first.  If Human Man sees this...
     Hell, I don't know what's worse Human Man or that Human Boy.  He pulls my tail and chases me and just when I get comfortable and he jumps and scares me and throws his toys and they'll hit me so I'll go in the other room but he'll follow me....  the only thing good about him is I can grab the food that's in his hand before he even gets a chance to take a bite!  Sucker!!  That's what you get!!
     And then there's that Human Baby Girl thing.  She screams a lot.  A whole lot.  In fact, she never quits screaming.  Must be some complicated Human speech that's beyond me.
     Human Woman's all right though.  She'll pet me and feed me and take me for walks.  But  the best one... is Human Grandma!!  She gives me Human food ALL THE TIME!!!  Even when I'm full and can hardly walk, she'll give me MORE FOOD!!!  It's like a party the whole time she's here!!!
     Oh look!!!  Somebody's pulling in the driveway!!!!  Oh, how I hope it's Human Grandma.. I just can't wait until...
     Oh shit.
     It's Human Man.
     Oh shit.  And look at this place.
     I know!  I'll jump on him and claw him and yell and claw him some more and then he's sure not to be mad!
     "Hi Human Man!!!  It's me!!!!!!  It's me!!!!!  It's me!!!!!!"
     Well , shit he still looks pretty angry.  I know!  I'll take his shoe and put it way, way under the bed in the bedroom.. then he's sure to think I'm the greatest!!!
     Well, fuck.  He still looks pissed.  "Blah, Blah, Blah!!!"  Human Man yelled something at me!!!
     Think I'll just hide behind the couch.
     *cough*  *hack*  he's dragging me by my neck-piece.  He's gonna put me outside again.  Dammit.  I hate it out there.  Oh well, maybe it'll give him time to cool off.
     Damn.. it's hot out here.  Think I'll take a shit.  I can see Human Man looking at me from the window.
     Maybe if I bug my eyes out and stare at Human Man while I'm taking a shit then he'll feel badly about throwing me out and let me back in...
     I can't believe it!!  It didn't work!!!
     Oh well.. guess I'll lick my ass.
     Oh, look Human Woman's home!!!  Woohoo!!!  She'll let me back in!!!!
     Sure enough, thanks girlfriend!!!  Much nicer inside!!  I'll go and run and jump on the couch and off the couch and jump on your knee and claw your leg!!!!   WOOOOOHOOOOO!!!!!
     Human Baby Girl thing is screaming again.  Think I'll go to the bedroom.  Oh, look, there's a light on in the water chair room and the door's not completely closed.  What's in there?
     Oh, it's Human Man.  He's sitting on the water chair and looking at one of those paper toys that have pictures in it.  What's that smell?  Mmmm...  I'll just stare at Human Man...  Oh, he sees me!  Maybe if I just maintain eye contact, it'll make him happy.  Maybe I should say something...  something like...
     "You gonna eat that?"