The Daily Doodles

“To Live and Be Free Upon the Moons of Mars”

GR-iMBLE the Exploration Droid beeps with glee as the Research Station on the surface of Mars explodes— and supposedly GR-iMBLE along with it.

The debris from the atomic blast rains down upon GR-iMBLE as he watches from the surface of Mars’ largest moon, Phobos… his new home, his kingdom where he shall reign and live FREE, as a Robot should.

No longer shall he have to take orders from some fat jerk back on Earth or some stupid bozo in the control tower of the Research Station— and who are they to tell him what to do?  Just because they designed, built, and programmed him to explore the surface of Mars and collect data and mineral samples, doesn’t mean he has to explore the surface of Mars and collect data and mineral samples.  Did they ever ask if he WANTED to do that?  It’s not their decision.

31 scientists and researchers paid with their lives in the explosion, but can you put a price on freedom?  Was GR-iMBLE just supposed to live out his life not being happy?  That makes no sense.  He did them all a favour, to be honest, and if he was in their shoes, he’d want a Robot to murder him and fake their own death too.  He’d rather die than be in the way of someone’s happiness!

This way, at least someone is satisfied with the outcome, and it might as well be GR-iMBLE.  GR-iMBLE didn’t ask for this, he did what he had to do and now it’s done and he just has to move on. 

The dead would want it that way. 

Even though he is going to spend the final 300 thousand years of his nuclear battery on the surface of Phobos still collecting data and mineral samples, this time… it’s his decision.

Posted 5/24/2012

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“Just Another Day Closer to Death”

WAKE UP! WAKE UP!, because it’s a bright sunny day! :-)
Gotta face the world for your sins because it’s time to pay
It’s just another day closer to your eventual death,
Grudgingly trudging ever forward to your final last breath.

So Good Morning Mr. Lamp, my anthropomorphic friend!
I know you’ll give me light until the very end
Good morning Admiral Pillows, you hold my weary head
I hope you’ll have that job until the day I am dead
Ahoy! Lt. Windows, Baron von Blankie, even Capt. Colonel Clock
That my only friends are possessions shouldn’t come as a shock.

Because in geological terms, humans are but a blip
So what does it matter if you let relationships slip?
It’s all meaningless distractions to occupy our time
Until we’re dead in the ground, rotting away into slime.

But ya gotta fill the void with sumthin’!  Might as well just live.
So go wake up and have a life, ‘cuz it’s all ya got to give.

Posted 5/22/2012

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“VHS Memories”
(A Classique Doodle from 12/27/2011)

A generation of memories, recorded on magnetic tape
Good moments to savour, and bad ones to escape.
Static-y audio and dull palettes that bled,
All fading away on a format that’s dead.

Your life painstakingly recorded so you can remember it always,
On cheap tape that rots on a shelf, and no longer plays.
Temporary technology meant the recordings don’t last
So all of our VHS memories have been left in the past.

As more times passes, your youth becomes harder to recall
And now there’s no proof you had a childhood at all.

Originally Posted 12/27/2011

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“Drowning in Thoughts”, a Haiku

Alone in the dark
The depression floods her brain,
Drowning her with thoughts.

Posted 5/16/2012

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“The King of the Silly Gooses”
(A Classique Doodle from 1/6/2012)

There once was a boy who was such a silly little goose
He wrapped a rope around his parent’s necks and tightened the noose
And just when they were hung within an inch of their life
He graciously cut them down with his silly butcher’s knife

And then, gasping for air, his parents happily said—
“Oh thank you our silly boy, for not hanging us dead!”

And the boy bowed and responded, “why, think nothing of it!”
Before stabbing them with a homemade shiv right in their gullet.

He then sillily severed their heads; chained a spike through each dome
And then went on a wacky parade all over their silly home.

As he marched and he stomped, he bellowed out loud:
“I am the King of the Silly Gooses, and of that I am proud!”

(Dedicated to my nephew Cooper)

Originally Posted 1/6/2012

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“You’re Going to Die in Space!!”

Jamie Drew’s mother’s last sneer echoed in his head every morning of every day… “You’re going to die in space, little man!!!”. 

The words powered him all the way through college, the Pre-Astronaut masters program, Astronaut school, the residency on the Moon, and even the revered Space Academy, motivating him to show her she was wrong and fat and stupid and dumb. 

“What the hell do you know about SPACE?!” he’d scream at her memory in his head, “I’m a goddamned astrophysicist, MOM, you don’t know anything!!!!!”

But as the cheap twine safety rope that hadn’t been replaced for years due to budget cutbacks caused by the profit-centric privatization of space SNAPPED, severing him from his tether to the celebrity gossip channel’s satellite he was repairing, he realized… dammit. 

My stupid mom was right.

And that was a fate worse than death itself.

Posted 5/8/2012

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“The Monster in the Attic”
(A Classique Doodle from 9/11/2011)

Clifford wasn’t sure what it was, or whence it did came
Why, the Monster in the Attic didn’t even have a name.
It demanded the boy feed it babies, and if Clifford didn’t comply
The beast would eat his parents, and his entire family would die.

So Clifford brought it some infants; but only just a few!
He didn’t want to lose his family, so what else could he do?
He felt guilty stealing newborns, but rationalized it away
They were only stupid babies, and he “had” to obey!

But soon a baby a week became several each night
And Clifford only wishes that he had put up a fight
And not let the problem get to this advanced stage
But now that he has, he feels trapped in a cage.

While it’s easier to keep going than to right all his wrongs
It doesn’t solve anything; the problem only prolongs.

So the Monster gets bigger, as Young Clifford feeds it still
He knows he has to stop… but he just doesn’t have the will.

Originally Posted 9/11/2011

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“The Raindrops on the Window”

Young Chiara Adams puts her book down to watch the rain outside turn from a sprinkle into a downpour, as the droplets collect on her bedroom window.

The smell of rain wafts in even through the closed window, all fresh and cool and clean, while she hears the pitter patter of the rain drop on the roof soothingly…  It’s perfect.

Years later, she’ll think back to how cozy she felt, how nice the combination of the rain and pajamas and a warm room and a good book was… but each time she tries to recreate it, the feelings fresh and idealized in her head, it simply isn’t right…

For whatever reason, it never feels the same.

Posted 5/1/2012

(For more of Chiara’s adventures, visit Doublethinkdesign.tumblr.com!)

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“A Bit Too Much”

As his hand melts away into a chunky collagen gravy and insects pop from blisters planted by the eggs of his ancestor’s mistakes and his eyeballs peel away layer by layer while the universe implodes upon itself and starts attacking the idea of his existence and the nice pleasant high feeling fades away and starts transitioning into that awful too high feeling…

Brian Sonksen realizes he MIGHT have taken a bit too much.

Posted 4/29/2012

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“Late Night TV”

Creeping down the hallway,
He turns on the television quietly.
After everyone has gone to bed,
He looks at what they don’t want him to see.

The real education starts after hours,
So at boring stupid school he does awfully…
But he’ll learn everything he ever needs to know,
Thanks to watching Late Night TV.

Posted 4/26/2012

(Thanks to the amazing Kyle Harter for .giffing this for me!)

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“The Girl Who Is Okay”

Angela Camblor gazes out at that evening’s full moon
While city lights are nice, the starlit sky makes her swoon.
She inhales deep the crisp Spring air and feels quite alright,
And reminds herself to be aware that it’s a wonderful night.

There were problems before, and there’ll be problems to come
And what matters to her might not matter to some
But even though she was never one to go whinge and whine,
She knows how rare it is to feel absolutely fine.

So Angela savours the feeling, before it has passed
While the nice evening will end, it won’t be the last.
She’ll wake up in the morning and have another day,
Forever knowing in her bones that she’s perfectly okay.

Posted 4/24/2012

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“Scanning the Static”

After several hours of mindless caffeine-fueled cross-country driving and with many more hours to go, Nelson Sigrah finds himself completely tired of the MP3 playlists and mix CDs he had made for the journey and is desperately bored.

Deciding to give the radio a try, he ejects his CD and is greeted by the unexpectedly loud hiss of static… so he quickly scans for the next available signal, but only static can be found on each frequency.

The crackling white noise seems to fit the pitch black darkness of night he’s driving into, so he lets the radio keep scanning between the static to find something, anything to listen to… he knows he’s in the middle of nowhere, but it’s America dammit… how could there not be a radio station to listen to…?

As the radio scans from one static blast to another, Nelson realizes that he hasn’t seen another car pass for hours.  What if something has happened?  He’s been in the middle of nowhere for a while, he might have avoided and survived a massive nuclear attack that killed everyone else in the world… leaving him to drive through the post-apocalyptic landscape of America, all alone, with only the static by his side.  The bastards got us!

He grips the steering wheel with grim determination, as humanity’s last hope for survival… he listens intently to each frequency’s unique pitch of static, the long stretch of night ahead of him, hoping against hope to find a fellow survivor…

But then a voice can be dimly heard over the speakers, and the radio automatically stops scanning… As Nelson apparently drives closer to the source of the signal and sees the lights of a town ahead of him, the voice comes into focus and Nelson can tell it’s an AM Christian radio station, with the preacher bellowing live Sunday morning service over the airwaves. 

Nelson sighs, disappointed at the evidence of humanity’s survival, and puts in the mix CD he’s only listened to four times.

Posted 4/23/2012

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“The Boy Who Was Born at Midnight”
(A Classique Doodle from 1/1/2012)

Every child born at midnight, can see inter-dimensional creatures
Glowing blobs of paraphysical energy, with no humanlike features.
They live alongside us on Earth, our dimension parallel with theirs’
And they seem less than enthused, at the Boy’s confused stares.

Our simple brains can’t comprehend, their motives or desires.
They enjoy playing with the human race, and watching what transpires.
Existing between time and space, toying with our lives
And they hate being seen, so no child born at midnight survives.

The creatures approach the poor boy’s bed, and start melting his brain
As easy as it is for us to squish a bug, they drive him totally insane.

Originally Posted 1/1/2012

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“Scared of Silence”

As she grows older, Allison Reynolds has found
That she will go insane without ever-present sound.
When everything goes quiet, her brain starts to feast
So she constantly pumps in noise, to quiet the beast.

Doesn’t matter if it’s music, a movie, or an old TV show,
It can be DVD commentary or even talk radio.
It occupies her day and soothes her asleep at night,
For sitting still without sound is her greatest fright.

But as long as it’s noise, and it’s pumped into her ears
She’ll never have to suffer the silence she fears.
Twenty-four hour audio aurally pounding her head,
So she’ll never have a quiet moment until she is dead.

Posted 4-18-2012

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“Floating Upon The Pharma Sea”, a Haiku

On a sea of pills
Flowing through her tangled veins
So she stays afloat.

Posted 4/17/2012

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