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Messages - HanianKnight

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Everything Else / Re: Crack-A-joke
« on: April 12, 2009, 07:42:30 pm »
Hey! I'm Jewish and didn't get that!

Everything Else / Re: Crack-A-joke
« on: April 12, 2009, 11:11:16 am »
Why did JFK go to the Mental Institution?

He lost his mind!

Art / Re: Hanian, The Man of a Dozen Words
« on: April 09, 2009, 06:55:54 pm »
Oh, thanks Snork. This next story I'm posting is a bit longer. The narrative is a bit slower paced, but it gets better as it goes on.

Untitled Ice Planet Story

This is a strange world. It’s icy all over, a bit like Antarctica back on Earth, but far more cold. No training could have prepared me for it, but I wouldn’t trade my position for any other person in the Universe. Camp was set up a few months ago and it consists of 4 small sleeping tents, 3 bigger working tents, and a kitchen area that is partly underground. If I’m remembering correctly then the planet was discovered a few years ago, it was deemed strategically important last year and was claimed, and 8 months ago valuable mineral outcroppings were discovered. And here I am, sitting on a snow bank watching the lazy clouds roll by.

   “The first man on the planet… I might put that on my gravestone.” I was so caught up in how awesome I was, that I didn’t see the little black dot on the horizon. I didn’t even notice the black dot getting bigger, or it taking more of a blob shape. I was still on my back letting the day roll by when it took the form of a man clothed in rags, stumbling toward the camp.

“Help Me!” It moaned, a bit too demandingly if you asked me. I jumped up and sprinted to the man as he fell to the ground. He was a big guy, and I struggled to pull him into the kitchen. I had to admit that I was entirely embarrassed that I didn’t notice a dying man in the cold for the two hours I was lazing about. I threw whatever extra blankets I could find on him and began making a pot of coffee. The man was breathing, and away from the extreme cold, so I began to calm down and evaluate my new situation.
   It was a man, he had what appeared to be rags on. He wasn’t part of the research camp. Could he be from another nation? His thick curly beard made him look Russian. The Russians weren’t even close to this planet though! The man continued to sleep and I thought of any theory about the stranger that popped in my brain. I was actually shaken, physically by the way, out of my train of thought by my bunkmate Davis. He was just as shocked to find the lump of blankets and greasy hair on the floor as I was when I found him in the snow.

   “What the Hell is this?” I didn’t know. Some sort of person I supposed. “Well what is he doing here?” I once again didn’t know. Sleeping as far as I could tell.”He looks like a Russian.” I knew. The conversation stopped at that point. For a good ten minutes we stood in silence. I was sure that Davis was thinking of the exact same theories that I had already gone over in my mind. I could tell by his facial expressions. Eventually he decided to call whoever else was at the camp. He said that I would have to explain how I found him to everybody. I told Davis that it was a short story. The mystery man rolled over in his sleep. The coffee machine beeped. A full pot of coffee was ready. I decided to try and pay a little more attention to my surroundings in the future.
Yeah right.

   Mary burst into the room and immediately began asking questions. “What the Hell is this” she said. I continued to not know, but I told her to calm down. She did, for a moment, and then the questions started pouring out of her at an even faster pace. “
Well what is he doing here?” I had no clue. She looked him over carefully. “He looks Eastern European…” Russian to be precise. Her gaze shifted from the stranger to me.  If there was anything on the planet that could shrink a scrotum faster than the sub-arctic chill, it was Mary.

   “Did you give him any medical attention?” I awkwardly pointed to the blankets. Yep, Mary sure was the boss. As if that really meant something on the planet with a population of 20. She hated me and I hated her, it was actually quite an easy relationship to keep up. At this moment, I began to understand just how profoundly stupid I was to just toss blankets on a previously dying man. I had come right back to the question of how long the stranger had been in the open. The average man would simply die if left outside without protection. That thought led straight back to where he came from and I didn’t feel up for that line of questions again. I told the others that I was tired (A lie, I had slept through most of the day) and they suggested I take a short break. I downed a cup of coffee, suited up, and walked back to my tent.

After staring at my clock for 10 minutes and 37 seconds exactly, I heard Davis enter. Even if I didn’t hear him, I would have felt the rush of cold air that enters the room whenever a tent is opened. In his hand was a mug. In the mug was brown ice. “I forgot how quickly things can freeze out there” he laughed. I was still trying to make sense of things. Davis continued, “You know that guy could probably wake up anytime now. You wanna check it out?”

   I declined the offer and tried to get some sleep. Tomorrow I would have a lot to do, and the others would be back from the caves. They were looking for, and getting samples, of the valuable minerals that were the reason I was here just now. Scientists were such bores. As I drifted off to sleep I thought I could hear Davis leaving the tent.

7:00 AM My nap turned into a whole night of sleep. My strange mystery man had probably woken up. I turned over to Davis’s cot and he was still gone. I sat up and couldn’t see him anywhere in the tent. I assumed that he had gone off to work or eat. I decided to not change and walked out of the tent into the blinding snow. For a moment the world was white. I slipped on my goggles and it was quickly turned into a darker shade of grey. The kitchen was only a short walk away, and it was the only way to start the day right.
   Apparently I had missed something big. Mary, instead of making the morning coffee, was on the floor in a pool of filth and blood. I walked to the coffee pot.

“Yep, empty.”

Across the room I saw Davis in a similar state of disrepair. I could tell, even from across the room, that his head was smashed in. The heavy door slammed shut and I saw that the mysterious man had been hiding behind it. I was honestly very surprised. I even gasped. I was less surprised by the blood he was covered in.

“So, killing people huh?” He didn’t answer, but he did inch closer. It was a bit worrisome.

“I don’t want to intrude, or to insult whatever your native culture might be, but I would like to know why you felt the need to kill my coworker and bitchy boss.” The man, instead of calmly explaining why he did it, then killing me, ripped open a nearby bag of chips and began eating them like a wild animal.

“Ok, so you’re obviously not going to eat them. Honestly, you just made a big mess for me to deal with. Plus, Davis was kinda cool.” The munching of chips (the nasty cool ranch kind) stopped. A deep baritone voice rang throughout the room.

“You humans are so selfish.”

“Oh, you know English. I guess that means you’re not Russian.”I looked around the room for some way of defending myself, but the knives were all the way across the room, and my shoes would get all bloody going around Davis.

“I am not, Russian, but I have seen your probes and machines for years. Your people plan to rape my world of its resources.” He inched a bit closer and tossed the bag of chips on the ground.

“Uh-huh. That’s kinda the plan.”

“You even sent men into my caverns.”

“Oh, those were your caverns. Well, killing my coworkers is a totally rational response to that. No, really. We’re totally the ones at fault here and not the crazy guy living in a cave .Yeah, so if you could stop getting closer and closer, and stop looking so menacing I could get out of your hair for a while.” I could see that there was something a bit off about the man. And it hit me all at once. “Oh, you’re not human then?”


“Well in that case I’d like to go back to my tent now.” Instead he grabbed me by the arm. I tried to struggle, but it was like being crushed by a mountain. I couldn’t make him budge an inch, no matter how much I thrashed. He smirked at me in a way that was not heart-warming.
“You know human-”

“Oh, my name is John.”

“Well John, your friends in my cavern are dead. You see, I’m the great elemental force that will crush whatever human intrusion comes to my world. You monsters can send all you want, But I shall destroy you. Every single one of you.”

“Look, if you’re going to kill me, then just cut to the chase.”

The chase was cut to.

Art / Re: Hanian, The Man of a Dozen Words
« on: April 07, 2009, 07:58:13 pm »
Eh, my actual views on life a bit less depressing. I think that we're all looking for meaning in life, and that most people really wont find. But if you had fun looking then that's what mattered.

Or whatever, what do I know? I'm a privileged 18 year old that owns a V-Neck sweater, so don't take anything I write too seriously.

Music / Re: "What are you listening to" thread
« on: April 07, 2009, 07:51:13 pm »
Red House- Jimi Hendrix

Art / Re: Hanian, The Man of a Dozen Words
« on: April 07, 2009, 07:45:40 pm »
I really haven't read a lot of T.S. Eliot. But thanks for the comments, they give me sustenance! But enough about my sick desires and teenage ramblings. It's time for another story yo!

The Human

On Certain nights, at the old abandoned hospital near the park, you can hear weird noises. The fact that you can hear noises coming from the wrecked building is strange enough. Most people assume that it’s teenagers just roughing around an old building. Those people are very wrong.

   The truth of the matter is that it’s just an old man working. He doesn’t care that the hospital has been closed for over 20 years. He doesn’t notice that he hasn’t been gotten a paycheck in many more. The old man ignores the wind rustling beside his bare wooden door. The moonlight trickling under the doorframe doesn’t even capture his attention. He just continues to sit in his room in the basement and continue his work. Through wire-meshed glass of his door a faint red light is able to escape. The old man has forgotten the rumble in his stomach, and the sagging skin that is draped his weak frame only bothers him when it affects his work. He is a broken old man who can’t bring himself to leave his work uncompleted.

You see, his work is more important than himself. He will live forever, because his work will never be completed. His work used to have meaning. The old-man used to be a well-respected doctor, but he came along a certain problem that a patient had. He knew that he was the only one that could save the patient. It was a beautiful problem, the moment he felt that he was close to solving it; he would be thrown a curveball. Eventually, he became obsessed with his work. Locking himself in the basement lab for weeks at a time became commonplace. The patient died. He was never told. It didn’t matter that the patient died. The patient’s problem transcended a single person and was now the only thing in the world that mattered to the old doctor.

   Conditions for the hospital worsened. The old man was fired, but it didn’t matter. The majority of the staff had been fired or quit.  The building was closed down. The old doctor didn’t notice that the hospital, his world, was crumbling around him. He didn’t care because it wasn’t the building that mattered; it was the perfect problem that his now dead patient had left him that mattered. With the world falling around him, his own sterile little world was perfect. “I’ll be done tomorrow”, it was the only thing he was capable of saying.

The research he is conducting will never lead anywhere. He is simply working on a problem with no solution. He attacks it from all angles, yet it will never change the inevitable outcome, failure. At one point his researched mattered, it no longer does. His constant failure consumes him. It taunts him, whispering false solutions in his brain, solutions that he knows will fail. But he will simply sigh, take a moment to collect himself, and then continue with the solution that has already failed in his mind. The old doctor faces the universal challenge, to take what has no solution, and then solve it. He must make sense of a senseless existence. He no longer exists for the goal, simply for the procedure. The door flies open, and a slight breeze hits the doctor’s tired skin. He shuffles to the door and glances at the crumbling walls, and the open skies. He then scowls at the world and shuts the door. “I’ll be done tomorrow.”

Books / Re: What are you reading?
« on: April 06, 2009, 05:46:51 pm »
I'm reading some Sherlock Holmes stories now. They're pretty cool so far.

Music / Re: Misheard Lyrics
« on: April 05, 2009, 08:19:50 pm »
I remember seeing a ton of those things for AFI songs. And yes I know, I've already made peace with the fact that I used to listen to some AFI.

Everything Else / Re: Religion
« on: April 05, 2009, 07:03:44 pm »
I'd probably be a total dick of a God at first. Misusing my power and slaughtering and stuff. Then I'd get bored of it and mellow out.

So pretty much the Christian God.

Forum Games / Re: The Signature Above Me
« on: April 05, 2009, 06:09:22 pm »

While it means very little to me. I'm sure if I knew what it was then I would rate it very highly.


Art / Hanian, The Man of a Dozen Words
« on: April 05, 2009, 05:51:09 pm »
Hi, since writing has been a bit of a hobby for me for the past couple of years, and since there usually isn't a whole lot of incentive to get my written stuff typed out, I decided to post some of my shorter work here!(cue applause)

I have a couple of things already written that need to be typed, and I hope that some of you will find it entertaining. So without further awkward introducing, I present to you, A short Story!!!


It was a queer sight that much is certain. You see, my old job forced me to go across the Mendenburg River every day. To get across it I always used the small wooden bridge, it was old but you could drive 20 horses on it without showing any signs of stress. Now the Mendenburg River itself was strong too. So they complimented each other in a way. I remember that during the war, a group of foreign soldiers drowned when trying to cross the Mendenburg on horseback. I always assumed that was why the bridge was built in the first place.

   But, the queer sight I had mentioned was neither the bridge nor the river. It was, as it were, a man.  He was dressed in a tattered black cloak and was perched upon a smooth rock that jutted out from the middle 0f the river. He sat like a frog. The first day I saw him I was shocked. I asked him if he needed help and honestly didn’t know what to do. I yelled over the rushing water, but his response seemed to pierce through the noise directly into my ears.

“I’m here to watch the fun.”

After staring at the odd sight for a moment, I decided that it was just some strange man who had far too much time on his hands and not enough common sense. I’m not heartless or uncaring, I asked him again if he wanted any help, but he didn’t answer.  I was running late for work, so I left him there. But many hours later, on my return home, he was still there. Sitting on that rock like a frog, just staring attentively at either myself or the bridge. I asked him once more if he needed any help and again his childish voice pierced through the noise of the river.

“I’m here to watch the fun.”

   Very quickly the black-clad frog of a man became a staple of my daily life. Day in and day out he would sit on that rock and stare. I actually began to find it more amusing than strange. I didn’t know how he ate or slept, I assumed that he left when I was gone. I would even try and start conversations with the man, but he would always reply in the amusing childlike voice.

“I’m here to watch the fun.”

No matter what I said, no matter how much I would try and goad him into talking, he would just say that, look me in the eyes, and smile.  For two weeks he simply sat on that rock, never changing position. I mentioned him to my wife and children one day over dinner. You see I had kept him a bit of a secret, but they all wanted to see the curious sight. So I told them to follow me to the bridge the next day to see the man. I had to ask myself whether or not it was a good idea to see a potentially insane man. I reasoned that no matter how insane the frog-man was, he was harmless. I went to sleep that night with a full moon staring me down and a bad stomach ache.
When I woke from my slumber, I found my wife and children dressed and ready to go. After dressing myself and eating a quick breakfast we were on our way to the bridge. After breaking through the edge of the forest into the clearing with the bridge, I was happy to see my black-clad frog man. He was still sitting on the rock.

I walked across the bridge and looked back. My kids were leaning on the rail with my wife behind them. They were excitedly talking amongst themselves and my wife seemed to be trying to get them under control.  I continued on my way to work, but I decided to look back at the man in the tattered black cloak. I was surprised to find him staring directly into my eyes.

Then I heard the sick moan that seemed to emanate from the bridge itself. It was quickly followed by a ear-splitting crack and a dozen splashes. Only when I heard screaming could I break my gaze with the mysterious frog-man.  I spun on my heels and the bridge was gone! I looked out to the river and saw my family being washed around the current, they were bobbing and being pushed down by the large chunks of bridge. They were screaming for help but I felt impotent under the gaze of the man in the tattered black cloak. I looked over to him and there was a devilish smile plastered on his face. I’ve tried convincing myself that it was the sight of my family that made me sick to my stomach, but it was truly his smile. His voice pierced through the rushing river and screams of me and my family.  In that child’s voice I heard the words that continue to haunt me wherever I go.

“I came here to watch the fun.”

When I looked back, it was too late. They were all gone, my family was all gone. I ran to the village, I had no idea why. The sheer terror and sadness I felt had propelled me all the way to my work. When I came to the river with others, the man was gone.  The rock was empty.

Nowadays I try not to think about the man or that day. I pour my life into my work now. Everyday I work as a bartender and have become quite popular. I’m a step away from owning the place and life is once again stable enough. One of my waitresses walks over to the bar to complain about a customer that won’t order anything.  I ask about him and she says that he sits strangely. When she asked him what he wanted to drink, the only answer she would get was,

“I’m here to watch the fun.”

I felt a familiar stomach ache and my head swirled. The door slammed shut and I watched a candle tip over onto a curtain. The smoke began to quickly fill the room.
“I’m here to watch the fun.”

(Comments are appreciated)

Movies / Re: The WORST movies you have ever seen.
« on: April 05, 2009, 07:32:26 am »
I just watched the movie Death Sport. It falls under the category of "so ungodly terrible that you will fall in love with it". It has unneeded gratuitous nudity, really really stupid looking weapons, bad acting, fights where nobody actually touches the other person, sound effects seemingly stolen from Star Wars, Barbarian in the Future hero's , evil underlings that make Stormtroopers look like genius's, clear plastic swords, and half of the movie is spent on motorcycles that are called "Death Machines".

It was pretty terrible, but in a good way.

Oh, and Alien 3000 is also a giant piece of crap. But to the point where it really does annoy you.

Everything Else / Re: Gripe Thread
« on: April 02, 2009, 05:05:35 pm »
You hear less of it? Really? What kind of magical place do you live in? Family Guy seems to be the biggest freakin' thing here! If anything, since it's return I've heard much much more about it.

Everything Else / Re: The best funniest posts
« on: April 02, 2009, 04:45:59 pm »
I vote for sanding him into oblivion.

I'm almost 90% sure that Flamester meant "Sending". But I think this is much funnier.

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