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Write A Story About Resurrexi


Paddington

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Paddington

Res woke up much closer to the lake than he had been. "Huh. Life without a tent," he said in a gruff tone while lighting a match over his corncob pipe. Gathering dry twigs for the breakfast fire was brief, but not so brief that he couldn't survey for pumas, bruins and coyotes. He took a can of baked beans out of the over-sized Wal-Mart crate and wondered how many Phatmassers may have survived the catastrophic meteor of 2012. "Zero!" he shouted loudly with a cackle that turned into bitter tears before kicking the muddy, oversecular Harper-Collins Latin-English Dictionary with the once pretty cover.

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"But why me?" Rexi-poo asked to nobody in particular, "why am I the only person to survive?" He thought he saw movement in the bushes. Quickly grabbing his spear, he dove in and started wrestling with a ravenous coyote--he wasn't the only one to survive!

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He slayed the coyote and as it cooked on the fire, out of the blue an insight stung the mind of Res like a wasp in the cool morning post-apocalyptic breeze.,

"I shall reconstruct Beowolf from the ocean of my memory so that it shall not be lost to post-apocalyptic posterity. Preferably, it will imitate the Seamus Heaney version since that is the last one I read, not once but three times." He thought.

It was a true Eureka moment in the mist of the morning still strife with the sulphorous smell of the meteor still riding the breeze. Only now he needed paper and ink to record the remnants of Beowolf floating in his mind, as well as aspirin to recover from the severe headache induced by the overdose of whiskey and sulphur circulating out of his system in detox. And so he set out for paper, ink and aspirin. . .

Edited by kafka
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Paddington

"No sense looking for supplies on an empty stomach. That would be like reading Vatican II outside of the light of tradition...Oh. Shoot. Swish! I gotta write that one down! With the paper I guess. Wal-Mart is a four hour walk, but now I have even more incentive" thought Res. "But first, I'm gonna eat me this baby coyote."

Res had an unexpected dinner guest - the mother of the baby coyote. After the baby-talking didn't work, Res decided to think of another plan as she lept on him, pinning him to the ground like a prime Ric Flair.

Resurrexi, not known for his floor-skills, was losing as convincingly as his effort was unconvincing, until he busted out the eye gouge sending Mrs. Coyote into a 100 yard dash.
He wiped at the modest amount of blood and then - for kicks - threw the spear at the canine-relative. It wasn't even close. "I should be way better at spear-throwing by now," he mumbled.

"Don't rub it in!" he screamed at the sloppy dictionary. "Don't rub it in?" "Huh?" Res' giggles could've fed a small army if they were in the form of giggle cookies, which they weren't, but it's not like there was a small army to be found. Just an army of one - a tall, proud yet ashamed and weather-beaten army of one with minimal bleeding.

In a rapturous fury, Res maneuvered nails into his new friend and favorite book, Harper. Harper was closed permanently, but had brand new marks of a smiling human. The smile wasn't perfect, but that can be blamed on the non-plethora of nails. There they were...[i]an Army of Two[/i].

"Wanna eat some baby coyote?" Res asked the cradled book as he held a nibble to Harper's mouth. "No? Okay. We'll get you something at Wal-Mart. You are [i]so[/i] going with me."

Edited by Paddington
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Paddington

Res didn't have time to re-read the Council of Florence, so to be safe he squeezed out all of the squeezable blood from the tender coyote flesh. It was worth the fifteen minutes even if his hands suffered a burning form of discomfort which was relieved by the refreshing wetness of the lake. Baby turtles nibbled down small pieces of coyote that fell from his rough hands sending him into ecstatic contemplation on nature's intricate, often delicious food web.

Rubbing his stuffed tummy, Res looked at Harper with affection and dependence. "Today we walk for a really long time. Tomorrow the seeds of Beowulf's genius fall on the fresh, virgin soil that is Wal-Mart's copy paper!"

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Paddington

Res offered up to God his aching legs as he journeyed with Harper like a hobo might journey with his faithful dog, who perhaps could be named Scruffy and carry a flask. It was obvious to Res that the Camino de Wal-Mart was probably littered with Meteor-Saints and their relics, so he held out small hope that an indulgence could be worked in given the extenuating circumstances common to apocalypses.

Wal-Mart, the grandest image of civilization past was now visible to the exhausted Res, while the couch section was even more visible to his imagination. There he would nestle up with Harper and dream in Latin.

Even with the filled shopping cart, the return trip seemed shorter and more care-free. He made it back to the Lake to watch the sunset and drink some off-brand Gatorade while loosely gripping his tattered spear and Harper on his lap.

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IcePrincessKRS

Not to question literary genius here, but being the lone survivor couldn't he just take a random car from the side of the road and drive to Wal Mart, or better yet, a bookstore where he could pick up a copy of Beowulf? :huh: I mean, no one else would be using the cars or gasoline, he may as well help himself. And having gone to Wal Mart he could also get some real food so he doesn't have to eat coyote. 'Cause that's gross. :unsure:

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homeschoolmom

Unfortunately, the off-brand Gatorade did not agree with him and he died.

[b]The end.[/b] :mellow:

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franciscanheart

[quote name='IcePrincessKRS' post='1915892' date='Jul 9 2009, 01:38 PM']Not to question literary genius here, but being the lone survivor couldn't he just take a random car from the side of the road and drive to Wal Mart, or better yet, a bookstore where he could pick up a copy of Beowulf? :huh: I mean, no one else would be using the cars or gasoline, he may as well help himself. And having gone to Wal Mart he could also get some real food so he doesn't have to eat coyote. 'Cause that's gross. :unsure:[/quote]
:lol_sign:

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[quote name='IcePrincessKRS' post='1915892' date='Jul 9 2009, 02:38 PM']Not to question literary genius here, but being the lone survivor couldn't he just take a random car from the side of the road and drive to Wal Mart, or better yet, a bookstore where he could pick up a copy of Beowulf? :huh: I mean, no one else would be using the cars or gasoline, he may as well help himself. And having gone to Wal Mart he could also get some real food so he doesn't have to eat coyote. 'Cause that's gross. :unsure:[/quote]
well the apocalypse just occurred so it isnt that simple, and we dont know yet if he is the lone survivor. The answers might come hundreds of posts later.

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Paddington

[quote name='IcePrincessKRS' post='1915892' date='Jul 9 2009, 03:38 PM']Not to question literary genius here, but being the lone survivor couldn't he just take a random car from the side of the road and drive to Wal Mart, or better yet, a bookstore where he could pick up a copy of Beowulf? :huh: I mean, no one else would be using the cars or gasoline, he may as well help himself. And having gone to Wal Mart he could also get some real food so he doesn't have to eat coyote. 'Cause that's gross. :unsure:[/quote]

The meteor was selective I guess.
Or maybe he is walking for penance.
Or..even better the sulphur that is fresh in the air is dangerous when mixed with car fumes. Or so he suspects. Future-Res does not mess with gasoline and cars. He's had experiences.

As far as eating the coyote, he can't get his meat any other way.
Also, the baby coyote was threatening him. Was he supposed to let the carcass go to waste?
Furthermore, today is his shopping day. The cupboards tend to be bare before going on an eight hour round-trip. (He still has a portion of the baked beans crate, but that is just understood.)

Edited by Paddington
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