MarshA traveler was I on a grand exploration,
Boldly I went without due hesitation.
I leapt forth blind drunk on earnest pluck
And so it was soon that I found myself stuck.

“Damnable fortune!” the swamp heard me cry.
Too late I realized the firm land was a lie.
A mudhole, a bog, call it what you like,
It spelled only doom for my opt’mistic hike

“Perhaps forward still” was my prime consid’ration
And so I trudged onward with reserved expectations.
But my luck was away and my fears were found true,
For I earned no release; the soup held me like glue.

Leftwards, rightwards, upwards but down
Was all I could manage as I sunk through the ground.
“Why me? Why now? Why had there been nothing to warn?”
Thought I as gravity took me up into my arms.

I cursed and swore and cried in that spot,
That godless land on that forsaken plot.
“Bugger the landlord! Damn mother nature!”
But cursing neither name drew me a saviour.

After a struggle my pride gave up and fled
And I conceded: “Without rescue I’m dead.”
Young as I was I hated the task:
“I must cry out. For help I must ask.”

“Help!” I hooted. “Heeelp!” I hollered.
“Heeeeeeelp!” I yelled hearing no return caller
Except for the crickets and except for the breeze
and except for rustling swampland leaves.

Other wanderers came and other wanderers went.
They saw my stuck figure and my predic’ment.
Some went on their way, some helped me in vain
But eventually they all saw my fate very plain.

And as the day faded so too did my strength
And I realized I would be stuck for some length
Of time in the mudhole, swamp, mire or bog
Till nought but my bones were left with the logs.

“Please,” I croaked through paper dry lips.
“Anyone” I pleaded between crying fits.
A spectre I felt, a shade appeared on the ground
But when I looked ‘round there was nought to be found.

Despite my ears I heard the shadow then speak
It said nary a word and made nary a peep.
But it’s message was clear as its voice was grave;
The shadow promised I would not be saved.

Oh misery! Oh despair! Oh sadness and gloom!
Oh wretched, mournful, despondent doom!
Tears uncountable, wailing untold
Left me as my horrible conclusion took hold.

And then all was still… And I waited… And remembered
The young man I was when I began this adventure.
And I remembered how even when things seemed their best
I would know journey’s end and I’d lay down to rest.

I looked to the shadow, nodded, said “Aye.”
“I’ve accepted my fate. I am ready to die.”
The shadow then pulled me from my mud trap,
Laid me down on the ground and closed my eyes for a nap.

And then it moved onward leaving me behind.
It could never rest, there was never the time.
For a little ahead a traveler like myself
Had gotten himself stuck
And was crying for help.


Schizocedric – Chapter Three


Brain, I don’t ask you to do much –

You ask me to do everything.

Shut up. I don’t ask you to do much, but please, don’t screw around studying for tomorrow’s midterm. I can’t fail this test.

Bro, when have I ever let you down? This is Brain you’re talking to. The cerebellum. The thinking parts. This is the shit I live for. This is my raison d’etre. See? I even used French right now. That’s how all about studying for this test I am.

So you promise not to just spend the next twenty four hours watching Youtube videos and scrolling through facebook?


Alright, I trust you.

Twenty four hours later

What the hell brain? I trusted you!

Zzzz … So many cats… So fluffy…. Zzz

Okay gut, it’s up to you.

Fuck yeah. Bring it on. The best physics is done intuitively anyways. And this shit ain’t rocket science. Pfftt, you probably didn’t even need to study.

Alright. Here’s the first question: “NASA is trying to develop a remote controlled vertical landing system. Based on the following transfer function below determine if they will be successful. State your assumptions.”

So it literally is rocket science. Huh.

Oh god, I’m gonna fail…

No worries kid. Just let me take another look at that equation…. Mm hm… And at that word problem…. Right… And the equation again… Okay.


Well, I think it’s safe to say that you are going to need to use math to solve this. Unfortunately that’s not really my department.




Huh, where are we? Oh is it test day already?

Thank god. Okay. Please tell me you remember something from the lectures.

I remember that we slept through a lot of them.

Not funny man. We went to a couple. You have to remember something.

Ooh. I remember that the answer to the logarithm is the exponent.

That was from high school three years ago. How does that help now?

I dunno. Hold on. Let’s ask Heart what we should do!

No don’t get him involve-

Hey heart. How should we solve this problem?


Well, he was no help.

We might as well bullshit something. Gut, it’s you and me buddy. Let’s save Cedric’s lazy ass.

But you’re the one who let me down in the first place!

And I do a buttload of work around here compared to you too!

Shhh. We’ll talk about who screwed who over later as we’re getting drunk so we can forget about this miserable experience and therefore learn nothing about waiting until the last minute to prepare for a make or break test.


Right. Hands, we need you on board for this. Begin drawing an integral. The squiggle gives me a good feeling. And throw in some Laplace transforms. And write down the given information. And arrows! Arrows everywhere! Yeah, I bet that’s at least two of the ten marks right there!

Huh? Oh we’ve been drawing dicks and unicorns for the past thirty minutes now.

Times up!


The Dragon Slayers

Once upon a time there was a terrifying dragon and a peaceful, sleepy village. Every new moon the dragon would burn the village to the ground, steal livestock and kill any that got in its way. This went on for hundreds of years until the villagers finally had enough. They put out a call for a dragon slayer. Soon their call was answered.

The first to show up was a brave young knight in shining armour atop a powerful black steed. The knight wielded an awesome sword with a jewel encrusted scabbard and ivory-gilded hilt.

The second was a mysterious wizard who arrived in a puff of smoke and spoke with a voice that boomed like thunder. The wizard’s eyes were an unnatural shade of green and glinted even when no sun shone on them.

The third dragon slayer to arrive was a young boy no older than five years old. He was dressed like a pauper and had messy hair. The boy had the usual childlike wonder and optimism in his eyes and smiled whenever he spoke.

The townspeople asked each of their heroes how they would slay the dragon.

“I will have an epic battle with the dragon and cut off its head,” said the knight.

“I will turn the dragon into a harmless frog,” said the wizard.

“I will give the dragon a hug and teach it to not be so mean,” said the little boy.

The villagers were shocked. Surely they could not let this naïve child walk to his death. But it was too late, all three dragon slayers had left to be the first to defeat the terrifying monster.

The villagers only had wait until the next sunrise to learn which of their heroes was successful. At dawn the wizard stumbled back badly burned. It was certain that he would die from his wounds.

“It was horrible, the knight went charging in, screaming at the top of his lungs and the beast burned him and his horse to ash.”

The villagers once again were horrified. They asked about the little boy. The wizard shook his head.

“He walked up to it arms outstretched and it swatted him away. I still remember him bouncing as he went flying into the forest. I’m sorry we have failed you so miserably.”

With that the wizard breathed his last.

The villagers realized that their situation was hopeless. Their only choice would be to leave their ancestral home. But, just as they were packing up their worldly goods the little boy walked into town, drenched in blood, carrying the knight’s sword in one hand and dragging the dragon’s head in the other. The look of optimism was gone from his eyes.

“Fuck hugs,” was all he said as he walked on.

Jenny the Princess

Read to the end…

Jenny the Princess was walking through the woods one day when she heard a sad song coming from behind an old oak tree. Curious, she went to investigate and found a lonely brown frog crying to himself.

“What’s wrong Mr. Frog?” Asked Jenny remembering her manners.

“None of the other frogs want to be my friend,” the frog said as he moped. He blew his nose on a leaf and continued: “they make fun of me for being brown because they’re all green. They say I’m different.”

“But brown is such a lovely colour,” said Jenny. “And besides, being different is a good thing. It makes you stand out. I certainly would not have found you in all of the grass if you were green.”

“Thank you m’lady,” said the frog. He sat up, smiled and snatched a passing fly out of the air with his tongue. This made Jenny giggle.

Jenny and the frog soon became best friends and played together all afternoon. They swam in the lake and Jenny fished in the creek while the frog hunted dragonflies. The two friends pretended they were knights on a grand quest and in their fantasies they tamed the fire-breathing dragon who lives in the cave.

Then, when Jenny’s father, the king, and mother, the queen, called her in for supper Jenny asked if the frog could come to.

“No Jenny. He is a frog and brown is the colour of mud,” said the king.

“That’s no fair daddy,” complained Jenny. “My hair is yellow and yellow is the colour of straw. Straw isn’t any better than mud.”

The king marveled at the wisdom of his young daughter and decided that she would make a fine queen one day. He also decided that the frog could join the royal family for dinner. They had a great feast of pumpkins and pies and the frog aet beetles and flies.

That night, Jenny and the frog promised to be best friends forever and to play with each other every day and everybody learned that brown was not such a bad colour after all.

The End


Outside in the hall Doctor Emmet Jackson lamented when he realized his patient was regressing. He was sure the latest batch of medication would have succeeded where therapy had failed but, all evidence was apparently to the contrary. Had it been a child then these delusions would have been no more than imaginary friends and the results of an overactive imagination. But this was no child. This was Petyr Hansley, star rookie quarterback of the New York Giants.

‘The terrors that stress of that kind will force on a man,’ thought the doctor. It was well known that the Giants’ coaching staff had put a ton of pressure on the young man’s shoulders but this level of mental breakdown was one that Emmet had never seen before, and he was extremely ashamed to find that he could do nothing to help the former football player.

Doctor Emmet Jackson drank himself to sleep that night.

Jenny the Princess slept soundly after being read to by her father, the King.

Petyr Hansley required heavy medication to put him to sleep.

And the frog lived happily ever after.