Books are unrealistic and here's why you disagree with me - trying to start arguments again

 Books are unrealistic and here's why you disagree with me

Don't pretend that title didn't anger you ever so slightly (or more than that) as you immediately started trying to come up with arguments as to why I am wrong and trying to think up any book you've ever read that could be an exception. First off, I know, I wish I could disagree as well. Secondly, don't try and argue with me, I will either win or ignore you, so either way, you will lose.

If you've ever picked up any book ever, you might already have an idea of where I'm going with this.

Friendships, relationships. All of it. Books are an idealistic version of reality and you can't argue that. People are thrown into situations that they are unfamiliar with and they step up to the occasion. People make friends, or have friends who know them so well they can read the tone of their messages. This is all incorrect.

I have a best friend, I've been friends with her since I was seven years old. Yet, I have no idea what she's going on about half the time and we do not like the same things. Most books I've read, ones where the main character has a best friend that they've known forever, know every little thing about them, like that obscure conversation they once had that led to them being embarrassed, so the friend never brings it up again. I don't know about you, but I go out of my way to annoy my friend.

Take the shy main character, the one that has never had any friends or been in a relationship. Suddenly, the have a best friend who won't leave them alone and their crush likes them back. I will openly admit, I've never been in a romantic relationship before, I'm much too awkward to ever talk to people I even remotely like. This is why I don't believe that shy character can suddenly lead a completely different life and not feel strange about it, or feel out of place, insecure about whether these people actually like them or not.

Siblings. Need I say more. I would love to write a book where there are siblings who act like me and my siblings act, but somehow I don't think people would like it. We purposefully annoy each other by leaving doors open, just a little bit. Sometimes we get along famously, but other times we're arguing about who gets to sit where. There is no 'best seat', we just all want the one that the other ones want. We have full on fights, with balled fists, but stop the punches before they hit. We then act as if we have been punched and fall accordingly, pretending to be hurt while the other person may or may not start fake kicking us. These fights are also often in slow motion. I have never read a book where there are siblings who act like we do. If you have any good recommendations of books that have realistic sibling portrayals, please let me know.

Learning things way too quickly in books annoys me to no end. I once read a book that involved a section about martial art training. I am learning Karate, I have been for about a year. There is no way you can get that good in three months, especially if you are about twelve years old, and then be able to take on full grown men. Also, languages. I have tried multiple times to learn German and French (and Swedish once), but I have not got the patience and I get frustrated when I don't have someone who speaks the language fluently to teach me. Therefore, it irks me when someone in a book learns a language in a matter of pages. Are either of these things realistic? I don't know, I've never dedicated that much time to learning something. But it annoys me, so I'm ranting about it.

Bookworm takes off glasses, puts on makeup and suddenly no one recognises her and she is drop-dead gorgeous. No, take the makeup off, you don't need it. Put the glasses back on, you do need them. Pick that book back up because if that boy only pays attention to you when you pretend to be someone you're not, he's not worth it.

There are probably a lot more things that I wanted to write about, but I abandoned this post halfway though and returned to it a couple of days later, so I don't actually remember what I was planning on writing about.

Do you disagree, or agree? Can you think of things that annoy you in books that I haven't listed, that you're sure I meant to write about but forgot? Probably. Please share these things, I do like conversation and causing arguments!

That's it from me for now then.

Bye!

Writing Prompt Stories, Mini Stories That My Mind Cooked Up – Part 2

 

"Honestly, I just want to help people."

"I find that hard to believe when you just confessed to five murders."

To be fair, it did seem pretty suspicious.

"Wait, you have to hear me out," I held my hands out, palm up, begging her to listen, to let me tell my story. She sat back in her chair, crossing her legs and waving a hand, as if to say 'go on then'. Grinning, I sat back in my chair, clearing my throat. I do so love storytelling.

I had been ambling along, more of a stroll really, along the river, when a van had pulled up alongside me. A white van, the creepy kind where the windows are mirrored to add to the aesthetic. The window rolled down and I stopped walking, heading over to the van. Their hair fell across their face, obscuring my view of them, but they were obviously lost, who wouldn't help them?

It seems, though, that perhaps getting into the van to help the poor person find their way around the city wasn't a great plan. I mean, it wasn't the best idea, but during our short conversation, I found out that they liked carrot cake as much as I do, so they seemed pretty cool.

They had asked for directions to a specific store, because apparently they had a delivery of sliced bread in the back of the van. Isn't that just the best thing?

There I was, giving them instructions, when they turned the wrong way. I had specifically said straight on, but they turned left. There was no traffic, nothing preventing them from going straight on. I had turned to them, confused, and they had looked over and winked at me. I smiled back, reaching for the door handle, but it was locked. I looked down at the handle, trying it again, and then trying the window, but neither opened. Starting to panic, I turned back to face them, only to catch a glimpse of a club before it connected with a crack against my head, everything going dark as my head lolled forwards.

I woke up on the floor of the empty carpark of a construction site. The site was empty, either the project had been abandoned or work simply wasn't planned for today. I stared at a large yellow vehicle, trying to figure out what it was used for, my head heavy and aching.

"Mornin'," I turned my head, the movement forcing me to blink away stars, and stared up at the van driver. "How are you feeling?"

"Get away from me!" I screamed, pushing myself up onto my elbows in an attempt to shuffle away from them, but a wave of nausea overwhelmed me and I rolled to the side instead, opting to crawl away.

"I'm your worst nightmare and, darling, I've come to reap you," I turned my head to look over my shoulder at them, wondering if they was being serious – the humour in their tone and the grin on their face told me otherwise, but the throbbing of my head stopped me from jumping to conclusions.

It was when they reached into their jacket and pulled out a knife that I turned and started to crawl away as fast as I could, hearing their footsteps approaching on the loose gravel of the carpark.

A burning erupted between my shoulder blades and I screamed as I fell against the floor, my arms giving out beneath me. They ripped the knife out and I screamed again, trying desperately to pull myself away from them, but my arms had given up. I tasted blood in my mouth and felt it start to trickle down my chin as they stood, watching, laughing...

"Let me stop you there."

I looked up at her, angry that she had stopped my flow. I had been at the best part.

"In this job," she sighed, "I get to hear some pretty bad excuses. 'It wasn't me, I was at home' but there's no alibi and there's definite proof they were there. 'She attacked me first', but ten different eyewitnesses say otherwise. This one, I have to say, tops the cake on worst excuses I've ever heard."

Narrowing my eyes, I lifted my hands onto the table, the cuffs clinking against the table as I leant forwards.

"You didn't let me finish, but you've ruined it now," I sneered, her face showing no signs of intimidation. Turning a page on her notepad, she hovered her pen over the page.

"And what would the ending be?"

"It's really quite clever," I grinned, leaning back in my chair, my hands clasping in front of me as I stared at the ceiling with glee. "The big plot twist, is that the story is not from my perspective." I looked at her, waiting for a gasp, for a look of realisation, for anything. But alas, she only looked bored.

"No, it isn't, is it? For one, I don't see a gaping wound in your back." She deadpanned and I slammed my hands down on the table, the sound of the bang bouncing around the room.

"You think you're being funny..."

"What I think," she interrupted me, "is that you are telling the truth, albeit in a roundabout way. You pulled up alongside the river, asking for directions. You knocked out and later killed a man named John O'Doherty, stabbing him between the shoulders and puncturing his lung, watching as he choked on his own blood. You dragged his body to the back of your van, putting him with the previous four. If a passing woman hadn't heard a scream and called the police, you would have left again, to find your sixth victim." She tilted her head to the side. "How's that for a story?"

"It's pretty good, it's lacking a bit of incentive, though," I mused, pursing my lips. "Maybe you should do some revisions, a little editing and then come back and we'll take another look at it." It was her turn to narrow her eyes and she looked about to say something else, but the door behind her opened and another officer walked in. He leant over to whisper something to the officer sat opposite me, who had her eyes on me the entire time.

The officer glanced towards me, a grim look on his face, before leaving as quickly as he had entered. I watched him go, waving at his back, before I turned back to face the woman opposite me.

"How's this for incentive – five men found dead in the back of your van, all five irishmen who worked at the factory that you recently got fired from. Turns out, they were all on the same production line as you. Also, a little bit of information has come to light," she gestured towards the door, telling me that the officer had just told her this, "you used to threaten all five of them and it was their reports against you that lost you your job. All of your threats, it seems, were backed by the fact that they were Irish, a culture you have been prejudiced against since the death of your mother while under the care of an Irish doctor, eight months ago."

She fell silent as I felt my anger seething.

"You dare mention my mother–"

"Furthermore, since we already have evidence of you admitting to the murders, as well as all the evidence that stacks up so nicely against you, the only purpose of this continued interrogation was to get a straight story and I feel like we have completed that task now–"

"I want a lawyer."

"Sweetie," she leaned forwards over the table, "you'd better have a good one."

The anger overcame me and I lunged across the table, screaming at her, the shackles rattling and pulling tight as I tried to move further than I could. She started, leaning back in her chair and pocketing her little notebook, clicking the pen off and standing, straightening her jacket and turning, walking towards the door as I remained, sprawled across the table, shouting profanities after her.

I would get her.

Sitting back in the chair, I cocked my head to the side and started laughing, imaging watching her cough up her own blood and being able to do nothing as her lungs flooded and drowned her.

From the other side of the screen, the footage of the interview was being saved, the notes being put neatly into a file and the interviewer was being handed a cup of coffee.

"How on earth did you get her talking?" someone asked.

"Look at her," the woman pointed and all eyes turned to look at the girl, at the blood staining the ends of her sleeves, on the bottom of her shoes and a streak across her jeans where she had wiped the knife, sat with her head thrown back, laughing, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"She wanted to tell a story, so I let her tell it."

Hello! I'm sorry this is so long, I started and couldn't stop. It also got a lot more complicated than I meant for it to, but that's life I guess.

This is probably incredibly factually incorrect (I have no idea how interrogation works) but I don't really care, it seems like it ended up as a pretty cool little story. Also, the whole 'motive' thing was given no thought at all, which is why it is terrible.

I'm starting to see a theme with these prompted stories, in that they all seem to be quite grim and violent...

Anyways, that's it for now!

Bye!

A Review – Paper Towns by John Green

Paper Towns
By John Green
A Review

I have realised that my reviews are not really reviews by definition, but rather my thoughts while reading... I suppose that is what a review is, but mine seem to be a bit more thrown randomly together and slightly slapdash than other reviews I have read.

Never mind.

Today I have a review of Paper Towns by John Green. As usual, I can't be bothered to tell you about the book myself, so I am going to use the blurb to do so.

Quentin Jacobsen has always loved Margo Roth Spiegelman, for Margo (and her adventures) are the stuff of legend at their high school. So when she one day climbs through his window and summons him on an all-night road trip of revenge he cannot help but follow.

But the next day Margo doesn't come to school and a week later she is still missing. Q soon learns that there are clues in her disappearance... and they are for him. But as he gets deeper into the mystery - culminating in another awesome road trip across America - he becomes less sure of who and what he is looking for.

Amazon UK • Amazon US

Sounds good, right? I will admit, though, that I didn't actually read the blurb properly before buying it. As always, there is a story behind my obtaining this book.

If you have an Amazon account, you'll get those emails saying 'Amazon Recommends' wherein they recommend you anything remotely related to anything you've ever looked at. For example, I bought my brother a CD for Christmas (it was a genre of music I don't even like) and I'm still getting emails recommending me CDs from that genre.

Anyway, I got an email and I clicked on it because I am always curious as to what Amazon thinks I want. In the email, was this book, with the price listed as £3.65. I was confused and clicked on the link, thinking it must be the ebook version. Nope, paperback, £3.65. Hurry, only 2 left in stock.

The 'hurry' panicked me and, after briefly skim reading the blurb, I put it in my basket and bought it. No shipping cost, I bought a brand new paperback for £3.65. I am still a little shocked about this fact. Sadly, I checked, this is no longer the price, but it's still a good deal!

Time for the actual review part, I think.

I read a majority of this book on a Friday, but then I had to eat dinner and didn't pick it up again until the next day. You might hate me, but I folded down three corners in this book and bent the spine so it would stay open so I could drink tea at the same time as reading it. I know, I'm a terrible person.

This book starts with Quentin, Q, as a normal person, going to school, with a record of never having skipped a day. Then his neighbour, Margo, climbs in his window and drags him off on an all night adventure of revenge and fun. Q hasn't properly hung out with Margo since they were kids, but, obviously, he has a crush on her. How could you not? She's free spirited, pretty, does anything she wants. But no one really knows her, and those that do know different versions of her, which begs the question – who is the real Margo?

After the epic night of revenge and technically not breaking the law (they never broke and entered, they broke some places and entered others, but never both at the same time) Margo goes missing and it seems that only Q is particularly worried about where she has gone.

Margo has gone missing before, but she has left a trail, a trail that seems to be for Q alone to follow and find her.

For the short while that Margo is in the book, I can't tell if I love her or hate her. She does what she wants and seems like a fun person to be around, but she also pushes Q into doing things he doesn't want to and makes fun of him when he panics about the things she has dragged him into. She can be really quite mean, but at the same time it almost seems like she is hiding behind a personality she has created for herself.

Q seems like a typical teenager who has become obsessed with something. And that something is finding Margo. While trying to find her and follow her obscure clues, he has finals to contend with, as well as typical teenage dramas, such as whether or not he has access to a car or the fact that his friends are too excited about things such as prom and girlfriends to help him all the time.

There is a fantastic section of this book, one of my favourite bits, where Q and a group of his friends end up on a road trip, on a race against time, and the journey is eventful, entertaining and incredibly stressful to read about. They are on such a tight time limit, even though that time limit is about 22 hours, that any stops for fuel and snacks are carried out with such precision and chaos that it is rather humorous to read about!

The adventure this book takes you on is wonderful to read about and has made me very much want to buy Song of Myself by Walt Whitman, as it plays a key role in the story. I am keeping a list of all the books I want to buy and in the last week or so, it has increased by about half an A5 page. My bank account hates me already.

I think that is all I have to say about the book right now, I had other thoughts while reading it, but they all seemed to leave my head as soon as I sat down to write this (helpful, right?) so I think I will end it here.

If you've read this book, what are your opinions on it? If you haven't, and you were even a little intrigued by this post, then you should get a copy – I left links further up by the image, I can't be bothered to add them again.

Bye!

Places To Read, An Unintentional Multipart Short Story Series – Part 4

 

When Avoiding People

It's fairly obvious that books are, in general, better than people. They are, therefore, the best way to avoid people. However, this opportunity doesn't always arise and you're forced to socialise with people you honestly don't care about – at least, you care about several fictional characters more.

Your aunt and uncle are round, sitting in the living room with your parents. You're meant to be in there as well, you haven't seen them for ages (your aunt and uncle that is. You saw your parents half an hour ago when they told you that you would have to socialise.) 

You can hear laughter travelling up the stairs, but you don't know what the joke was because you are smart. You made the excuse that you needed to use the bathroom and have been in there, the door locked, perched on the side of the bathtub, a book open in your hands as you multitask, both reading and balancing at the same time. You are a genius.

That is until there is a knock on the door, asking if you're okay because you've been in there for half an hour. You reply, saying that, yes, you're fine and you'll be out in a minute. Of course, that means you have to leave and smuggle the book out, otherwise your plan will have been foiled and you will be forced to go and sit down with your family.

With the book clasped behind your back, you leave the safety of the bathroom and ask if anyone wants a drink. Yes, they do, of course they do. They're adults, all they do is drink tea and coffee.

You escape into the kitchen. Your parents can't force you to sit down now, your aunt and uncle want a drink and it would be rude to deny them one. With the drinks being made, you can lean against the kitchen counters and read. The kettle finishes boiling and the coffee is done. Just a few more minutes though, they won't know.

Except they got curious when it took you fifteen minutes to make drinks and came to investigate. Your book has been confiscated and you are sat in the sitting room, half listening to your aunt drone on about her cat while you wish you were upstairs, in your room, with your book, and that your family didn't like talking so very much...

Hello!

I think everyone has tried this at least once – I mean, sometimes visitors can be fun and entertaining, and sometimes it's nice to see people, but really? Most of us would rather be alone with a book and a cupcake, am I right?

Speaking of cupcakes, now I want one. I have only myself to blame.

I hope you also now want a cupcake, so you can share this pain of not having access to any.

And if you do have access to cupcakes... I hate you.

Not really, but I'm sure you understand what I mean.

Anyway...

Bye!

Story Time – The Fault In Our Stars by John Green – my relationship with the story

 Story Time

The Fault In Our Stars 

by John Green

So I have a couple of stories about this book, but first I'm going to introduce it because I can't be bothered to explain what it's about! Also, I honestly can't find an image online that I can use without issues about copyright that looks like the cover I have. The one I have used is the best I could find!

I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, then all at once.

Despite the tumour-shrinking medical miracle that has bought her a few years, Hazel has never been anything but terminal, her final chapter inscribed upon diagnosis.

But when a gorgeous plot twist named Augustus Waters suddenly appears at Cancer Kid Support Group, Hazel's story is about to be completely rewritten.

Insightful, bold, irreverent, and raw, The Fault in Our Stars brilliantly explores the funny, thrilling, and tragic business of being alive and in love.

Amazon UK • Amazon US

So, I have introduced the book, you've (hopefully) read the blurb. If not, why did you scroll past it? Click on the links and go and get yourself a copy!

I first heard about this book about four years ago, when everyone at a drama group I attended was talking about it. I wasn't actually friends with any of the people who were talking about it, so I was purely eavesdropping and was not at all involved in the conversation.

The next time it was brought up in my presence was when I was at a friend's house for dinner. We were trying to decide what film to watch while we ate and she suggested The Fault In Our Stars. I said I had never seen it and she was appalled, immediately putting it on without any further debate. We sat, watching it, while eating pizza, dipping it in copious amounts of barbecue sauce (the pizza that is, not the movie). Not being a particularly emotional person when it comes to watching movies, I didn't get as emotional as many people have when watching this movie, but I loved it all the same. I now own the DVD and it's sitting on my shelf in front of me as I type this.

After having watched the movie, I, at some point, obtained a copy of the book. I can't actually remember who gave it to me. I think it might have been the friend I watched the movie with. Anyway, so I had watched the movie, and I read the book in no time, loving it as much as I had loved the movie.

Now comes the reason I'm talking about this book. I went on holiday with my family a couple of years ago. It was the start of autumn and we were going away for a week, to a caravan park near the beach. Of course, being in England, and it being the end of summer, it was much too cold to actually spend time at the beach. The weather was nice, but the water was freezing and the sand was the wet, clumpy, pebbly type.

Going on holiday is always a massive to-do in my house. There's always a big deal about packing. My brothers are completely incompetent when it comes to packing. I am not. We had three suitcases – obviously not enough for me, my brothers and both my parents. So I said I would pack my things in my backpack.

This is not the backpack I took, because that one since broke. This one is the same size, with my copy of the book for reference, both sat nicely on my rug.

In case you were wondering, the bag says:

SARCASM
Noun. (saːkaz(ə)m)
The ability to insult idiots without them realising it.

Amazing, right? I can't find this exact one, but here's a link to where I got it:

Amazon

Five days' worth of clothes, as well as a phone charger, two jumpers (although I wore one on the journey, so that doesn't count) and a coat (granted it didn't go in my bag, but I took it). At this point, my bag was bulging from all the stuff in it, but I only had my charger in the little front pocket. And everyone knows that the front pocket of a backpack is to put a book in.

I shoved my copy of The Fault In Our Stars in it. I didn't know if I was actually going to read, but you never want to be caught without a book available, so I took it anyway.

On a five day holiday, I read that book at least seven times. As soon as I finished it, I would turn the pages back to the start to begin again. I read it on the caravan's little porch in the sun, I read it in pyjamas, curled up on the sofa in the evening, I read it when I woke up in the morning. One time, I woke up and the sun was streaming through the curtains, so I assumed it was at least half seven. I picked up my book and read at least half of it before I realised that my family should've woken up by now and I was starting to get hungry. I checked the time on my phone, which should've been the first thing I had done. It was half five. Whatever time it had been when I had woken up, I'm not sure, but the mystery as to why it was so bright out so early in the morning remains a mystery to this day.

All in all, I have read this book over ten times and loved it a little bit more each time. Granted, I found the book through the movie, but I don't think that really matters if you love the book – better to find a book that you love than worry about the fact you watched the movie first, right?

I think that's it! That is my entire history with The Fault In Our Stars. I don't know how entertaining it will be to read about, but I'm going to upload this nonetheless because I want to share the mystery of the light in the middle of the night and the book plays a pivotal part in that story. Also, I had so much trouble getting the fonts and font sizes correct on this post, because I would set them right and then preview the post and they would all be wrong. Therefore, after so much work, I'm not not going to post it!

Bye!

Short Story – The Poetry of A Drunk, British Girl (and the mockery of her friends)

 The Poetry of A Drunk, British Girl (and the mockery of her friends)

*The following contains alcohol consumption and swearing

The Story

“The breeze is gentle, the grass swaying and the daisies dancing softly in the field. The sun is weak, the light highlighting the leaves in the tree, fluttering but holding on strongly, refusing to let go even through the coaxing of the wind.

“The sun is stronger, battling the clouds that threaten to suffocate it, breaking through the cracks in rays of light. It’s as if the barriers between heaven and earth have been destroyed in the battle and the light rays are tiny glimpses of paradise, giving humanity a taste of what could be, the warmth of the sun on their face, the beauty of the image, but closing it off before they can relish it, the clouds once again winning their battle and the sun bowing down in defeat as it allows the clouds to smother it.

“The view from the top of a cliff, looking down on the valleys below. The trees amidst the mist that has settled over them, showing the picture perfect image of the leaves, the green, the colour that signifies nature, life and prosperity, raising above that which would consume them, appearing to be the most beautiful image to someone with such a high view. Little do they know, that their perspective refuses them the knowledge that beneath the mist, they battle to grip onto their patch of land and that the elements they are exposed to are chipping away at their roots until they can do nothing but wait as they slowly fall to the ground with a thud that no one is around to hear.

“The water laps at the shore, there are footprints in the sand, but they were created long ago. The sea does not recognise the passing of time, but as it approaches the footsteps, it can tell that this is a memory for someone, a memory that could be cherished, but also loathed. A memory that someone never wants to forget or one that they never want to remember. So, as it nears, the steady rhythm to which it is forever moving to allowing it to approach and retreat, deciding whether or not to spare the memory, it listens to the gulls overhead, to the laughter in the distance, to the silent sound of the sun setting overhead, casting an orange to contrast the blues; and it washes the memory away.”

“You’re so full of shit, you know that?” Frowning, I looked away from the next screensaver and turned to stare at Amy in disbelief.

“Here I am, creating poetry, creating beautiful stories to entertain you all, and you have the audacity to slag me off like that?” I asked, a hand over my chest to signal my heartbreak.

“Oh, piss off, Piper,” Timmy heaved himself out of his chair, “who wants another drink?” A chorus of ‘me’s’ followed and, with a sigh, I reached out and handed him the empty bottle that I had been holding between my legs for the last twenty minutes.

“None of you appreciate my efforts enough,” Timmy ruffled my hair as he passed, not in an affectionate way, but intensely, to knot my hair and give me no choice but to show him my middle finger over my shoulder as he walked out, laughing.

“Oi, Noah, are you ever going to come back or have you passed out on the toilet?” Vi yelled at the door, her voice contrasting her slight frame as it echoed through the house.

“Noah, come back and save us from Piper’s poetry!” Amy yelled and there was a scattered laughter through the house, with Vi and Amy in with me, Timmy in the kitchen and Noah apparently still in the bathroom.

“Ames, you are so incredibly uncultured,” I started, but a chorusing of mockery at my educated use of language made me close my mouth, cross my arms and pout at the television as the screen switched to another default image. 

“Is anyone going to check on Noah, or not?” Timmy asked, returning to the room, holding four beers between his fingers. I turned, reaching for one, as Amy hurried to help him and Vi held out her hand, waiting for someone to present the drink to her.

“He’s fine, just let him be and let’s watch it without him,” Vi piped up, taking a swig of her drink.

“Noah, are you alright?” I yelled over my shoulder at the door and a soft ‘I’m fine, Jesus, give me a second’ carried down the hall as my reply.

It wasn’t a minute later when Noah returned, complaining when he realised that Timmy had gotten everyone another drink but him and swearing profusely when he tried and failed to open the drink that he went into the kitchen to get himself. 

“Do you need one of us girls to help you with that?” Amy asked and Noah muttered several profanities directed at her, continuing to try and open it as we all sat and watched him. 

“For fucks sake,” Vi pushed herself out of her seat, passing her drink to me as she passed, and snatched the bottle from Noah. Amy and I were both ready to celebrate the strength of women, Timmy was wholeheartedly amused, and it would have been the most badass moment ever – had Vi been able to open it.

It was passed around. Timmy got it last and Noah sat watching, obviously hoping he wouldn’t be able to open it, to prove that it wasn’t his lack of strength.

Timmy himself took the bottle back to the kitchen, admitting defeat, and replaced it with a different one, stating that he had put the 'hell bottle' back, so we could deal with it another time.

“Tim, that’s not fair, you don’t live here! How are me or Vi going to open that?” I asked as Tim passed Noah the new, opened bottle.

“Not my problem, is it?” He sat down, “now are we going to watch this fucking movie or not?”

“Not my fault Noah takes ten years in the toilet,” I mumbled and Noah threw himself onto the sofa next to me.

“I heard that.”

“Just press play before Piper starts talking about the fucking sky again.” Amy wasn’t looking at me, but I hope she felt the intensity of me holding my middle finger up.

The End.

I was very conflicted about posting this, as I generally don't swear in my writing, in case I accidentally offend someone and I like creating peace, rather than causing conflict. So I took to Twitter and asked. The majority said that they wouldn't care if there was swearing or not so here it is!

To be fair, what group of slightly drunk, British friends don't swear? Half of our vocabulary is a profanity!

Anyway, my Tweet led to a lot of positivity towards posting it, and there was a lot of talk about not modifying art for the sake of others and, if I was proud of it, I should share it. I'm thinking about making a post about this, because I think it's really important.

I did write this very late at night (or very early in the morning, it depends which way you look at it) and my inspiration was literally the screensavers of Amazon Prime, so there's not really that much storyline, but I liked how it turned out, so here we are.

I hope you enjoyed it!

Bye!

Places I read that I probably shouldn't.

This is obviously a very cliche topic, full of cliches, because I am a very cliche person and am already running out of ideas for blog posts.

Nonetheless, off I go!

So, there are always time restraints in life, and these restraints are the reason I read at the most inopportune times. I read when I can't be bothered to do anything else, for example on the weekends, or in the evenings when the choice is to read or watch something on TV – sometimes I'm just not in a TV kind of mood.

The first way I read, therefore, is in the evenings or weekend, when I have free time.

Sometimes, I watch something on TV in the evenings, but afterwards, when I should go to bed, I want to read. My bookcase is in front of my bed, so when I lie down, my books stare at me. Sometimes, I just can't help turning on my fairy lights and reading until 1 in the morning. (This does, however, mean that I wake up much later than I am supposed to. Oops.)

I don't have baths very often, because I am under the impression that showers are much more convenient, both time wise and cleaning wise. Have you ever tried washing your hair in a bath? Anyway, when I take baths, I usually take a book. One time I took my phone and had a very close call with almost dropping it. My books must loathe bath time, because there is a very high chance I will accidentally dip the bottom of the pages in the water. Nevertheless, I read in the bath, and risk the lives of my books every time. I know the risks, I just don't care. I'm such a rebel.

When I have to go out somewhere, I usually take a book. I once sat down in the waiting room at the dentists and pulled a book out of my bag. I actually didn't hear the dentist calling my name the first time, because I wasn't paying attention. After that, I stopped taking books to places where I had to pay attention, but I still read whenever I get the bus anywhere (although I haven't for a very long time). Another place I took a book – there's a tennis court where my younger brothers play tennis occasionally. I walked there with them and sat on the edge of the court to read. This, it seems, was a very stupid idea, as I spent the entire time dodging tennis balls and getting distracted as I worried about whether or not a stray ball would hit me.

In the summer, when there's actually sun out (England, please, we just want a little more heat), I sit outside and read in the garden. Generally, I wear shorts and take off my shoes and socks so I don't get strange tan lines. This does, however, lead to frequent sunburn, as I often forget to get up and put more suncream on, because I'm too busy reading.

I think the issue is that I have little to no self restraint when it comes to reading and I do not learn from past mistakes (for example, to ensure the book stays out the bath or to read somewhere that I'm not in danger from my brothers playing various types of sport. I am also incredibly spiteful and if someone tells me not to do something, I immediately go to do that thing. This is why I stay up too late reading and don't put enough suncream on. Clearly, the people telling me to sleep and sit in the shade are only trying to help me, but I am an annoying human being who thinks she is better than everyone else.

Everyone has flaws, don't hate on me. (I'll just hate on you more.)

I think I'm out of things to say, time to sit and stare at a blank screen as I try and figure out what else to write about (it took me a full 15 minutes to come up with this idea, and it's a pretty bad one. I dread to think what my next idea will be like).

Bye!

Places To Read, An Unintentional Multipart Short Story Series – Part 3

 

Camping

You didn't want to go. You would much rather have spent your weekend curled up in bed with a book, a cup of tea and snacks galore. Unfortunately, family obligations are a thing and, to be fair, you had promised to go. If only you had been paying attention and had know what you had been promising.

It's getting dark. You're in your tent, lying on the hard ground, wearing so many layers of clothes you might've thought it was winter, not the middle of summer. Why was it so cold at night? It was never this cold at home. Your sleeping bag is doing the most to warm you up, but you can't sleep.

Enter your trusty companion – the book your family told you that you shouldn't bother packing. Apparently, you wouldn't have time to read. You might lose it. As if. Did they really think you didn't know where your book was at all times?

Your torch doesn't work properly, you have to keep shaking it because it keeps turning off and violence is the only thing that turns it back on. You jumped when you heard footsteps and turned the torch off, pretending to be asleep. This intruder outside your tent might be there to kill you.

Never mind, the person climbed into the tent next to yours. But now your torch is flatly refusing to turn back on. It's too dark to read without it and your phone died earlier, so you can't use that as a light source either. You have no choice but to put the book down and try to sleep.

It's so early, it probably can't even be considered morning yet. Why did the sun seem to rise so much earlier when you were camping? Considering how late you went to bed and how early it seemed, minus the tossing and turning, trying to get to sleep, you can't have got more than a couple of hours sleep. But honestly, how could you tell? Your phone was dead and no one these days wears watches.

No one else is up yet, so there is one obvious thing you can do.

Avoiding touching the sides of your tent, due to the vast amount of condensation (did it rain, why is it so damp?) you try to locate your book. On a second thought, you open your tent first and pull your sleeping bag tighter around you. Might as well read with the sunrise as a backdrop, right? The grass around the outside of your tent is damp, your tent is damp. Anything inside your tent that was touching the sides of your tent is also wet. Your book – well that was safely tucked inside the sleeping bag with you. Your book is gloriously dry and waiting for you to read it.

And read it you do. Seemingly for hours before everyone else starts to wake up. Seriously, how did they sleep so well?

Hi!

This is drawn from experience. Usually, though, I fall asleep fairly easily when camping. My torch is just as broken as the one in this (it's a nightmare to take that torch camping. Getting up in the night and needing to use the toilet, walking across what is basically a field at night, trying not to trip over (or into) tents and then your torch goes out? Awful experience.)

And then waking up ridiculously early, when everyone else sleeps so ridiculously well? I once sat up for two and a half hours reading before anyone else woke up.

Anyway...

Bye!

A Review – Ready Player Two by Ernest Cline

 Ready Player Two
by Ernest Cline

A Review

SIDE NOTE! First off, I would like to apologise if there are formatting issues with this post, you don't know how long it took me to make everything stay in the same font, at the same size, in the middle of the screen... and the title, don't get me started on how long it took to get the title in the right format. Once again, apologies, but I spent too long making this to not post it. (Yes, I even copied it into a new post, it messed it up even more). Side note over, now onto the actual post (which I wrote earlier).

I've realised I like starting my posts with the word 'so', so I'm going to try and stop doing that.

There are things I'm meant to be doing right now, other than writing this, but I figured, hey! Who cares!

First I'll introduce the book, because, once again, I can't be bothered to explain it myself. Also, if you haven't already (if so, why?) go and read my other post first, where I review Ready Player One. You'll get a sense of what the story's actually about. If you've already read that post – thank you!

Here's the book:

AN UNEXPECTED QUEST. TWO WORLDS AT STAKE. ARE YOU READY?

Days after winning OASIS founder James Halliday's contest, Wade Watts makes a discovery that changes everything.

Hidden within Halliday's vaults, waiting for his heir to find it, lies a technological advancement that will once again change the world and make the OASIS a thousand times more wondrous - and addictive - than even Wade dreamed possible.

And an unexpected, impossibly powerful, and dangerous new rival awaits, one who'll kill millions to get what he wants.

Wade's life and the future of the OASIS are again at stake, but this time the fate of humanity also hangs in the balance. 

Lovingly nostalgic and wildly original as only Ernest Cline could conceive it, Ready Player Two takes us on another imaginative, fun, action-packed adventure through his beloved virtual universe, and jolts us thrillingly into the future once again.

With it comes a new riddle, and a new quest: a last Easter egg from Halliday, hinting at a mysterious prize.

Amazon UK • Amazon US

There we go! Now, onto my review.

So, (I've got to stop starting sentences with that word) if you've read my other post, you'll know that my brother gave me Ready Player One for Christmas. He also gave me this one. I must admit, I much prefer paperbacks to hardbacks and the paperback version of this book isn't out for another couple of months. So I have the hardback, not that I'm complaining.

If I thought the adventure was over in the last book, I was wrong. Not only is there another quest, there is also a battle against time, millions of lives at stake, and only Wade and his friends know about it.

Being a newly-appointed billionaire doesn't make Wade as happy as it might seem. He is miserable – Samantha won't talk to him and it seems like his friends would rather spend their time without him. When they do hang out with him, it seems like they are doing so just to make him feel better, not like they actually want to be there.

The new technology, the ONI (OASIS Neural Interface) is either a blessing or a curse. It connects to ones brain, letting them visit the OASIS as if they are actually there. They can walk around, taste, smell, touch – all as if they are actually there. However, it's pulling more and more people into the OASIS, away from the real world, and with more and more people living false lives in a virtual world, Samantha's quest to try and help solve the world's problems are not going well.

And, of course, there is the whole deal with the fact that if you stay connected to the ONI for too long, you'll suffer irreparable brain damage and, more than likely, die.

And the fact that the worst has come to life, as is always destined with advanced technology – it has become sentient and is plotting world domination (albeit it domination of a virtual world).

The whole quest is mapped out incredibly, how Ernest Cline managed this is incomprehensible. You won't understand what I mean unless you read the book, so go and read it and then come back and agree with me.

I am not an '80s buff by a long shot, but I greatly enjoy '80s music and movies. Since the creator of the OASIS was also such, there is a lot of '80s culture dotted around and it was a joy to read. The way Shermer is written excited me and if I ventured into the OASIS, I feel like I would spend a lot of time there. Also, Samantha and I would be wonderful friends (I've decided).

I read a large majority of this book in the bath – it was a single event, not multiple baths. I would say I simply couldn't put it down, but since I was in a bath, that is true on more than one level. Definitely, definitely, get a copy of this book and read it! Read book 1 first though, or you might not understand all that is happening enough to fully immerse yourself into the story.

And end review.

If you've read this book, I hope you agree with me. If you don't, either tell me why peacefully and we can debate, or just don't tell me. I don't want to argue, you'll only lose.

If you haven't read it – why? I've told you at least twice already to go and do so. Hurry up!

That's it then.

Bye!