Tuesday, February 21, 2012

A Plea.

Trickster told me to start the blog, I did. He told me to ask for reader stories, I did. He told me to post often, I do. I have been a faithful lackey and followed aaaaall of his directions....

And yet... he still keeps picking on me.

I know why it is. There is only one cause of such a thing. The blog must be kept up, and the posts must keep coming...

And no one is sending me material.... and it has to come from somewhere....

Therefore, until I start getting new submission again, Trickster is going to continue to pick on me so that I have something to write about. Isn't he a kind master?

I have only had one reader submission to date. The only conclusion I can reach is that people just aren't experiencing the Trickster.

Because, let's face it... if people HAD Trickster tales to share, they wouldn't just leave me to bear all the responsibility myself. Right?


So, if on the off-chance you HAVE had a brush with the Trickster, and are simply too shy to share... please, I beg of you, send it to me! Dig deep! Spare me! Save me!

Because if you don't, more crap like what's to follow will continue to reign down upon me....

The Scene:

5:15 AM yesterday morning. I awake naturally.

This is not unusual - I often wake at this ungodly hour. Something about being a biological (though definitely not mental) morning person or whatnot.


I realized I had a whole big ton [yes, a big ton - significantly bigger than just a regular ol' ton] of stuff to do today, so I decided to stay up and get started.

I had it all planned out: Be done with homework by 5:45, shower at 6:00, be ready to leave and proctor my friend's class at 9:00.

I stayed up. I read my class material. I showered. I did all of these things....

... and then fell back asleep.

I awoke (for the second time that day) about 15 minutes after I was supposed to be at my friend's classroom.

After much rushing, cursing, throwing things, swearing, fumbling, and articulating my displeasure in colorful terms... I made it to the classroom.

Not surprisingly, all the little children had left already.

More tears. More curses. More wishing there was someone else to have Trickster pick on them.

Telling her was the worst part.

Because I was too much of a wuss to call, I texted her instead.

She texted back: "Call if ya can".

Well, THAT certainly did a lot of good.

So I call her.

And she is an angel. She tells me not to worry about it, things happen, we're still friends [at that point I don't think I broke into tears, but don't quote me on it].

However, the next day [and I deserved this] I was peppered with jokes about punctuality and the ENTIRE department now knows the story of how I botched the assignment. Including my favorite professor [whom I have been pestering for several years now about... well... everything].

While it's all in good fun, and I'm enjoying the laughs at my expense [Lord knows I've made fun of enough people to justify it]... I'm not sure I will be able to hold up under another Trickster beating.

So, you see, if you enjoy this blog and would like to see it continue... please get me some material to work with...

... or at least send me a damned alarm clock.



  1. Perhaps you should try carrot-dangling. ;)

  2. Indeed. What sort of carrots could I dangle to persuade readers to give me stories?