Wild Jay A Short Story by Jay


I have decided to become a Story Writer and a Story TI have decided to become a Story Writer and a Story Teller going forward. The Udemy Course was very useful so was this Story Generator. See what it produced. Wonderful nO?

I did some edits here and there to keep the flow and continuity.

Jay was thinking about Goji Berry again. Goji was an arrogant queen with brunette hair and sticky fingers, slimey, limp palms and pursed lips.
Jay walked over to the window and reflected on his pig in the mud surroundings. He had always hated snake burrow The Earth with its united, as he uninterested in what is under the earth. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel calm.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the an arrogant figure of Goji Berry.
Jay gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a wild, ruthless, whiskey drinker with ginger fingers and pouting lips. His friends saw him as an arrogant, anxious author. Once, he had even saved a tight old man that was stuck in a drain.
But not even a wild person who had once saved a tight old man that was stuck in a drain, was prepared for what Goji had in store today.
The clouds danced like bopping snakes, making Jay irritable. Jay grabbed a bendy rock that had been strewn nearby; he massaged it with his hurt fingers. He had caused the self hurt.
As Jay stepped outside and Goji came closer, he could see the outstanding glint in her eye.
“I am here because I want Apology,” Goji bellowed, in a sinister tone. She slammed her fist against Jay’s chest, with the force of 8735 humming birds. “I frigging hate you, Jay .”
Jay looked back, even more irritable and still fingering the bendy rock. “Goji, I am your Foster Father,” he replied.
They looked at each other with cross feelings, like two thundering, thoughtful tortoises rampaging at a very tactless accident, which had jazz music playing in the background and two vile uncles talking to the beat.
Jay studied Goji’s brunette hair and his hurt fingers and the pursed lips. Eventually, he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, but I can’t give you Apology,” he explained, in pitying tones.
Goji looked angry, her body raw like a glorious, good gun.
Jay could actually hear Goji’s body shatter into 6000 pieces. Then the arrogant queen hurried away into the distance.
Not even a glass of whiskey would calm Jay’s nerves tonight.

THE END
#Storyteller, storywriter, #mentor #pigfight #snakes #tortoises #mentoring #Mentoring fun #Jay #Jaymentoreller going forward. The Udemy Course was very useful so was this Story Generator. See what it produced.  Wonderful nO?

I did some edits here and there to keep the flow and continuity.

 

Jay was thinking about Goji Berry again. Goji was an arrogant queen with brunette hair and sticky fingers, slimey, limp palms and pursed lips.

Jay walked over to the window and reflected on his pig in the mud surroundings. He had always hated snake burrow The Earth with its united, as he uninterested in what is under the earth. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel calm.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the an arrogant figure of Goji Berry.

Jay gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a wild, ruthless, whiskey drinker with ginger fingers and pouting lips. His friends saw him as an arrogant, anxious author. Once, he had even saved a tight old man that was stuck in a drain.

But not even a wild person who had once saved a tight old man that was stuck in a drain, was prepared for what Goji had in store today.

The clouds danced like bopping snakes, making Jay irritable. Jay grabbed a bendy rock that had been strewn nearby; he massaged it with his hurt fingers. He had caused the self hurt.

As Jay stepped outside and Goji came closer, he could see the outstanding glint in her eye.

“I am here because I want Apology,” Goji bellowed, in a sinister tone. She slammed her fist against Jay’s chest, with the force of 8735 humming birds. “I frigging hate you, Jay .”

Jay looked back, even more irritable and still fingering the bendy rock. “Goji, I am your Foster Father,” he replied.

They looked at each other with cross feelings, like two thundering, thoughtful tortoises rampaging at a very tactless accident, which had jazz music playing in the background and two vile uncles talking to the beat.

Jay studied Goji’s brunette hair and his hurt fingers and the pursed lips. Eventually, he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, but I can’t give you Apology,” he explained, in pitying tones.

Goji looked angry, her body raw like a glorious, good gun.

Jay could actually hear Goji’s body shatter into 6000 pieces. Then the arrogant queen hurried away into the distance.

Not even a glass of whiskey would calm Jay’s nerves tonight.

 

THE END

#Storyteller, storywriter, #mentor #pigfight #snakes #tortoises #mentoring #Mentoring fun #Jay #Jaymentor

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Knowing this will make you give less of a f*ck about what others think I worry too much about what other people think of me. sharing article from Medium.


Knowing this will make you give less of a f*ck about what others think
I worry too much about what other people think of me.

via Knowing this will make you give less of a f*ck about what others think

Mean machine or Meaning making Machine – who am I ?


Dealing with perceptions

in my mind’s eyes

hoping against hope

my presuppositions

my cognitive bias

my hyper criticism brutally

and honestly delivered

Reacted fiercely

Mean machine or Meaning making Machine – who am I ?

Interpreted differently

Forgetting all the time

There could be another way

May be it means something else

Meanings, judgements passed

Mean machine or Meaning making Machine – who am I ?

Forgetting our Being Human!

The tendencies to err

To become ruthless

Behave unnaturally with vengeance

Mean machine or Meaning making Machine – who am I ?

In the meaningless repetitive

Arguments to prove us Right

Leaving sanity, wisdom

Ignoring subtle visible facts

Getting self centred

Mean machine or Meaning making Machine – who am I ?

To prove I’m always right

No remorse, no feelings and

Emotions towards others

No empathy no sympathy

Mean machine or Meaning making Machine – who am I ?

Being mean before we know it

Mean machines we become

And wonder

Mean machine or

Meaning making Machine –

who am I ?

Is that me?

Who have I become

A Moron, a sadist

A masochist

Or just Mean machine or Meaning making Machine – who am I ?

(Writing poetry after many years! It needs a deep provocation, a shining up a mentors huge stick! And it just flowed)