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My first entry for the 
furwritersguild Thursday writing prompts. Check it out http://www.anthroaquatic.com/forum/.....hp?topic=266.0
“Take ten minutes and go do a chore.”
That was the sound of my mother as she poked her long, white-furred face into the living room. Her voice was soft, and would have been pleasant to the ear if not for the game controller in front of me. Coming as it did in the midst of “Jerry” time, it only served to remind me of my splitting head ache. One second, I was in the zone, waiting on the game boss’s doorstep for the battle I had been preparing for for hours. The next, I was in the dim living room, staring at a flat screen, an empty coke can, and several discarded junk food wrappers. I sighed, rubbing the finger-length, curly, white fur on my forehead before stroking my hands back along my horns, then and got to my hooves.
My mom never cared what chore I did, as long as it looked like I was doing my part around the house. I had gotten into countless arguments about how I shouldn’t have to do a chore unless something specific needed done, but I was never able to convince her. Looking back now, I think she did it as a way to reach me; I’d been so self-absorbed at the time that she hardly saw me between when I got home from school, and that when I disappeared into my electronic fantasy worlds. Of course, that was the last thing on my teenage mind.
I grabbed the vacuum as usual. Our house was pretty ridiculously clean as it was, and I knew it would take me only 5 to get a satisfactory sweep done. I’d duck into the bathroom for a few and then DONE. My mind was already back in the game, anticipating the next level, that next quest line, that next win in the arena. I mowed the vacuum through the grass-green carpet, oblivious as I sucked up one of my dad’s hairballs that had been hiding under the sofa. I was running on autopilot, my body eager for the controller to be back in my hand and my headache to subside.
Then wouldn’t you know it, the power went out.
The machine in my hands gave a gasping breath and fell silent. All the lights around the house winked out, leaving only the thin slices of sunlight that made it though the blinds to light the room. I turned in horror to the television, where only the empty abyss of a black screen remained of my gaming session. When was the last time I saved? I dropped the vacuum and started to pace.
At first, I tried to occupy myself reassurances. The power would snap back in any second now, and I could get back to “me” time. The game autosaved after a certain point, right? I must have paced for a good ten minutes, without accomplishing much. It was my mom who saved me, naturally. By the time that she clomped into the den, my hands had started to shake.
“I guess it will be a bit more than 10 minutes, but lets make the most of our time,” said she, handing me a list of chores:
✧Haul the food from the fridge down to the basement so it wouldn’t spoil.
✧Clean out the air vents (I remember seeing this on my dad’s to do’s last weekend, but he had gotten out of it by saying that he didn’t want to turn the AC off to do it. It was the middle of summer after all.)
✧Dust the blinds and open the windows around the house to let in more light.
And so on. The point is, that she got me thinking just about anything BUT my game. I started with the blinds, since extra light would help me work. It had been quite some time since I had peered outside, let alone dusted the window. I had to stop several times to get over sneezing fits, but it was worth it in the end. I took my chance to look outside. It was nice out, a few people walking though the park across the street, and over there some younger children were playing soccer. Maybe if the power wasn’t back, I would give the pack a visit after my chores.
Moving over the food was objectively easier, but a little grosser. I didn’t like having to touch my dad’s food if I could help it, so I did that part first. While there was nothing really wrong with the artificial muscle pate, it still made me a little queazy if I looked at it too long. I washed my thick-nailed fingers and got the next load. I suddenly realized I was hungry, and after securing the rest of the food in the basement, I snuck a bit of leftover cud from a tupperware container. After all the junk-food I had loaded myself up, there was something wholesome and comforting about the taste.
Just as I was about to tackle the air vents, my dad came home from work. Just in the nick of time, too. Although he grumbled a bit about it first, we soon formed a great team. The air vents were high up for the most part, and it was a bit of a production to clean them. We even had to change a few of the filters.
After all that, we high-fived each other and he gave me his trademarked, gap-toothed grin. Mom came in with a smile and some healthy snacks (celery for me, an exo bar for my dad). I suddenly realized that my headache was gone for the first time in what seemed like days. Maybe it was being in the present moment, away from all the distractions of modern life? Maybe being away from my games for a bit would lend me some new perspective. A nice story book ending, right?
Of course, then the power came back on.
I wish I could tell you that I still had my story book ending; that I went for a walk in the park or shot some hoops with my dad. I wish I could tell you I sat down with my parents and had a meal together. I wish I could tell you that I learned to enjoy doing chores more.
I wouldn’t be wrong if I told you those things, but it didn’t happen all at once that day. Even now, writing this, I’m making an effort to keep my mind from drifting back to what strange world I could be exploring, or what class I want to master next, or even aimlessly surfing one of the many websites I frequent. But that day did change me. I learned that the really rewarding things in life come from the mundane every day happenings of life.
Maybe someday I will be leading a simple, quite life. Maybe I should just unplug.
But not just yet. it’s Jerry time now.
furwritersguild Thursday writing prompts. Check it out http://www.anthroaquatic.com/forum/.....hp?topic=266.0“Take ten minutes and go do a chore.”
That was the sound of my mother as she poked her long, white-furred face into the living room. Her voice was soft, and would have been pleasant to the ear if not for the game controller in front of me. Coming as it did in the midst of “Jerry” time, it only served to remind me of my splitting head ache. One second, I was in the zone, waiting on the game boss’s doorstep for the battle I had been preparing for for hours. The next, I was in the dim living room, staring at a flat screen, an empty coke can, and several discarded junk food wrappers. I sighed, rubbing the finger-length, curly, white fur on my forehead before stroking my hands back along my horns, then and got to my hooves.
My mom never cared what chore I did, as long as it looked like I was doing my part around the house. I had gotten into countless arguments about how I shouldn’t have to do a chore unless something specific needed done, but I was never able to convince her. Looking back now, I think she did it as a way to reach me; I’d been so self-absorbed at the time that she hardly saw me between when I got home from school, and that when I disappeared into my electronic fantasy worlds. Of course, that was the last thing on my teenage mind.
I grabbed the vacuum as usual. Our house was pretty ridiculously clean as it was, and I knew it would take me only 5 to get a satisfactory sweep done. I’d duck into the bathroom for a few and then DONE. My mind was already back in the game, anticipating the next level, that next quest line, that next win in the arena. I mowed the vacuum through the grass-green carpet, oblivious as I sucked up one of my dad’s hairballs that had been hiding under the sofa. I was running on autopilot, my body eager for the controller to be back in my hand and my headache to subside.
Then wouldn’t you know it, the power went out.
The machine in my hands gave a gasping breath and fell silent. All the lights around the house winked out, leaving only the thin slices of sunlight that made it though the blinds to light the room. I turned in horror to the television, where only the empty abyss of a black screen remained of my gaming session. When was the last time I saved? I dropped the vacuum and started to pace.
At first, I tried to occupy myself reassurances. The power would snap back in any second now, and I could get back to “me” time. The game autosaved after a certain point, right? I must have paced for a good ten minutes, without accomplishing much. It was my mom who saved me, naturally. By the time that she clomped into the den, my hands had started to shake.
“I guess it will be a bit more than 10 minutes, but lets make the most of our time,” said she, handing me a list of chores:
✧Haul the food from the fridge down to the basement so it wouldn’t spoil.
✧Clean out the air vents (I remember seeing this on my dad’s to do’s last weekend, but he had gotten out of it by saying that he didn’t want to turn the AC off to do it. It was the middle of summer after all.)
✧Dust the blinds and open the windows around the house to let in more light.
And so on. The point is, that she got me thinking just about anything BUT my game. I started with the blinds, since extra light would help me work. It had been quite some time since I had peered outside, let alone dusted the window. I had to stop several times to get over sneezing fits, but it was worth it in the end. I took my chance to look outside. It was nice out, a few people walking though the park across the street, and over there some younger children were playing soccer. Maybe if the power wasn’t back, I would give the pack a visit after my chores.
Moving over the food was objectively easier, but a little grosser. I didn’t like having to touch my dad’s food if I could help it, so I did that part first. While there was nothing really wrong with the artificial muscle pate, it still made me a little queazy if I looked at it too long. I washed my thick-nailed fingers and got the next load. I suddenly realized I was hungry, and after securing the rest of the food in the basement, I snuck a bit of leftover cud from a tupperware container. After all the junk-food I had loaded myself up, there was something wholesome and comforting about the taste.
Just as I was about to tackle the air vents, my dad came home from work. Just in the nick of time, too. Although he grumbled a bit about it first, we soon formed a great team. The air vents were high up for the most part, and it was a bit of a production to clean them. We even had to change a few of the filters.
After all that, we high-fived each other and he gave me his trademarked, gap-toothed grin. Mom came in with a smile and some healthy snacks (celery for me, an exo bar for my dad). I suddenly realized that my headache was gone for the first time in what seemed like days. Maybe it was being in the present moment, away from all the distractions of modern life? Maybe being away from my games for a bit would lend me some new perspective. A nice story book ending, right?
Of course, then the power came back on.
I wish I could tell you that I still had my story book ending; that I went for a walk in the park or shot some hoops with my dad. I wish I could tell you I sat down with my parents and had a meal together. I wish I could tell you that I learned to enjoy doing chores more.
I wouldn’t be wrong if I told you those things, but it didn’t happen all at once that day. Even now, writing this, I’m making an effort to keep my mind from drifting back to what strange world I could be exploring, or what class I want to master next, or even aimlessly surfing one of the many websites I frequent. But that day did change me. I learned that the really rewarding things in life come from the mundane every day happenings of life.
Maybe someday I will be leading a simple, quite life. Maybe I should just unplug.
But not just yet. it’s Jerry time now.
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Bovine (Other)
Size 120 x 120px
File Size 6.4 kB
Not so boring if you really think about what the author has written :3. I feel the same way. I went for a 2 hour hike up a mountain the other day. It felt great, but now I still need to study for finals... *sigh. Oh well. Nice read, nothing too in depth. Whelp! Back to work!
As of late, I have been experiencing a bit an implosion of productivity, resulting in a passive spree of neglect towards the people I'd usually held in my feedback routine. This is why the very admirable renewal of your writing activities has gone by ostensibly unnoticed by me, and I apologize for that.
Whether prompted by an outside influence or instituted by a feat of self-discipline, scheduled writing sessions are an incredible creative asset once integrated into one's daily proceedings, and I'm glad to behold your inspiring climb up that particular thermal of inspiration. Your new user insignia could be seen as a harbinger or a seal of that change, and it is also a welcome sight - reflecting both your affection for the underused avian characters as well as acknowledging their mutually complementary bond with the sprawling mammalian kingdom.
The story itself is a very neat slice-of-life experience in a sitting vaguely familiar to anyone who's been following your works in its subtler details. There is an introspective vibe to the first-person perspective of this tale, colouring the recollection of that day with a self-judgmental tone, perhaps even hinting at some dramatic events that had transpired in the interim between the story's date and the time the retrospecting older version of the half-breed protagonist was writing this down. Although the benefit of hindsight understandably fosters the second-guessing of one's younger, simpler self, the young narrator still appears to be decently compliant with his mother's austere household regime. The realistic portrayal of the kid returning to the cozy indulgences after a meaningful episode of appreciating the values of socializing with his progenitors was a nice touch, although the narrator's "Jerry" time seems to have been thoroughly well-deserved back then.
Whether prompted by an outside influence or instituted by a feat of self-discipline, scheduled writing sessions are an incredible creative asset once integrated into one's daily proceedings, and I'm glad to behold your inspiring climb up that particular thermal of inspiration. Your new user insignia could be seen as a harbinger or a seal of that change, and it is also a welcome sight - reflecting both your affection for the underused avian characters as well as acknowledging their mutually complementary bond with the sprawling mammalian kingdom.
The story itself is a very neat slice-of-life experience in a sitting vaguely familiar to anyone who's been following your works in its subtler details. There is an introspective vibe to the first-person perspective of this tale, colouring the recollection of that day with a self-judgmental tone, perhaps even hinting at some dramatic events that had transpired in the interim between the story's date and the time the retrospecting older version of the half-breed protagonist was writing this down. Although the benefit of hindsight understandably fosters the second-guessing of one's younger, simpler self, the young narrator still appears to be decently compliant with his mother's austere household regime. The realistic portrayal of the kid returning to the cozy indulgences after a meaningful episode of appreciating the values of socializing with his progenitors was a nice touch, although the narrator's "Jerry" time seems to have been thoroughly well-deserved back then.
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