Charles

Haha, yo Nerdsy, can you give me an exact link to the Christmas Banner Contest entry? I tried to locate it to no avail. It has probably been right in front of me though, lol.

Jesus is the one who is responsible for making us tolerant to lactose!

[quote name='Nerdsy][color=deeppink']Um, I think we should take out the link to that message board from Topaz's entry, seeing as how the only active forum is full of porn. >.>[/color][/quote] [CENTER][IMG]http://img223.imageshack.us/img223/6461/mustnotfapvs5.jpg[/IMG] [/CENTER]

[I]Note: Sephiroth might add an epilogue after this.[/I] And that's the end of it. As soon as I was able to, I sat still, like a statue, over Laura's hospital bed, day after day, thinking about what would happen if she ever woke up. Days lapsed into nights. Nights into weeks. I sat mute, staring at her, as if willing myself to finally face the cold, motionless consequences of my actions. A man had died because of me. My eyes moved away from Laura towards the window, towards the dark, gray sky. Sometimes I stared at the silver bracelet that anchored her to her bed. Even if she did recover from her peaceful, unconscious incarceration, she would be immediately imprisoned. I stared at the machines keeping her alive and a thin, bitter smile spread across my lips. The irony of it all. Ah, Otaku City. Some say that when Otaku City loves you, she loves you like no other, but she never loves anyone for very long. Each lover she takes on, she ultimately rejects just as passionately as she brought them to her bosom. I thought about everything that had transpired since I had returned to her arms, her arms that folded around me and ensnared me like a serpent, affectionately hugging its pray before squeezing the very life out of it. I barely recognized myself anymore; I had the gaunt face of a tortured man. Otaku City--the only place where a man can leave a wife he never truly loved, force her into madness, and come out of the situation a hero, while she faced imprisonment. The irony of the situation made me consider what true murder really was and whether or not there really were "good guys" in the world at all. "It didn't have to end like that!" I said, leaning forward. I heard a short, dry laugh behind me. "You have got to let go of this," Sonders said. "Stop!" I said abruptly lifting my left hand, "I tried 'letting go' before and look where it got me. Look where it got Rico. Look where it got Laura." My eyes shifted to a train ticket almost mechanically, a train ticket that I had purchased two days ago. As I stared at it, I sat so still that only the life in my eyes distinguished me from a sculpture. "So that's it then," Sonders said, and she folded her arms across her chest, shaking her head emphatically. "You're just going to run away again? Is it that simple? " She stared at me, awaiting an answer, her face had a long drawn expression of both outrage and bitter amusement. "What you did was wrong," Sonders said, "And you deserve to feel guilty about it. But, you didn't make her kill Rico. She was sick, Charles. She was sick and that had nothing to do with you." "It had everything to do with me," I said softly. "People leave one another and cause one another misery every day," Sonders said, "But that doesn't give anyone an excuse to rob an innocent person of their life and allow another to take the blame for them." Sonders placed her hand on my shoulder, bent down and whispered into my ear, "It's not your fault." I turned to her, my face still contorted with pain. And then my eyelids came down slowly over my eyes and my lips gradually lengthened into a smile. Suddenly a familiar voice broke the silence. "There's something I think you should see," he said, his voice low, almost strained. I attempted to greet him, to try to find whatever words are appropriate for showing gratitude to a man who was willing to throw his life away to protect my family, but the whatever I was going to say died in my throat as he handed me a newspaper. When I was done reading the article he directed me to, with an expressionless open-mouth gaze, I limply dropped the paper onto my lap, reached out, and ripped up the train ticket. "What is it?" Sonders said, leaning forward. The article on the front page read as follows: [FONT=Courier New][B][U]Hollywood Mega Star Seized on Suspicion of Brutal Slaying[/U][/B] [B]Hollywood, California[/B]--Hollywood Star Drake Desbreko has been taken into custody for the murder of an unidentified female escort. Desbreko willingly gave himself over to police yesterday while on the set of the upcoming live-action film adaptation of [i]The Legend of Zelda[/i] video game series, after the woman was found dead at his manor in Los Angeles. The victim was found with a replica sword from the film impaled through her stomach. There were two stab wounds in her abdomen, approximately three inches apart from one another. Police say that an autopsy is pending. Drake Desbreko originally gained notoriety as a child star when he appeared in the film [i]Kill Adam[/i] at the young age of fourteen. Desbreko has no criminal history and up until now, his reputation has been spotless. However, with the murder of this unidentified woman, reports are starting to surface, tying the young star to a prostitution ring and drug rehabilitation clinics. Desbreko could not be reached for comment, however a spokesman has firmly denied these allegations. Desbreko is being transported to his native home of Otaku City for trial, where he still holds legal residency.[/FONT] [SIZE=3][CENTER][B]The End.[/B][/CENTER][/SIZE]

Did you actually fly out to Washington?

[quote name='DeadSeraphim][size=1][color=indigo][font=arial]I once got engaged to a girl I'd never met before... and man, those Iraqis get ****** about broken engagements.[/font][/color'][/size][/quote] Dude, I just have one thing to say to that: Japan_86.

Well, I'm high quite often online myself. I have made it a habit to lock my credit card up before I sign on and generally I try to avoid AIM or Internet forums. What's the worst mistake you have ever made while surfing the web under the influence?

Have you ever accidentally crashed while high? Now that's scary. I swerved off the road into a small ravine before and I was so baked that I had no idea where/who I was.

See, no, it was just morphine through the hip injury. My family was really concerned with my health at that point and they still had a shred of hope for my future. I actually ended up having an intervention before I knew what an intervention even was, while in my hospital room. Essentially, morphine was the gateway drug to cocaine for me, as strange as that sounds. Once I was no longer able to get prescriptions for morphine, I started looking for more powerful drugs. It's kind of sad looking back on it now. I pushed a lot of people away and lost a lot of friends. I may or may not have sexually abused someone as well. My girlfriend at the time was getting "wet" with me and I have no recollection of what ultimately happened. She had one story and a group of my friends had another; they swore that I was innocent. It went to court and they didn't have the evidence needed to get me on anything, but my reputation around town was pretty damaged just from that incident.

I pretty much used to be a crack fiend. I was [i]really[/i] young when I started smoking crack. In retrospect, I was probably about eleven years old; I was not sure what it was but several older kids whom I looked up to convinced me that it wasn't too harmless and that the feeling was incredible. Of course, being a young kid, I was highly susceptible to peer influence and I gave it a try. I was hooked pretty strongly until I was around fourteen and I ended up jumping off of a two story building and damaged my hip pretty badly. I would have to say that the worst drug I have every used, however, was elephant tranquilizers. I don't know if you've every tried anything that potent and that unorthodox but, I highly doubt you would ever want to.

Well, I was young and at first it was basically a social thing. Like, at parties my friends would get a line going and we would all have a good time. I didn't realize I was addicted until I started stealing out of my mom's purse to satisfy the cravings. I have overdosed a couple of times and it's super scary. Both times I swore I would quit, but I always manage to relapse when times get tough. :animenose

I do lines of coke every now and then. I also shoot up on heroine when I need the boost. During the week I ususally don't start drinking myself into a stupor until noon, but on the weekend I often get started in the AM.

[b]Sorry if this is kind of long.[/b] I?ll never forget how I felt when I first gazed upon that flier and yet I?ll also never be able to explain it. A thick wave of feelings rushed through me, shook me to the bone. I felt as if I had been hit by a truck. As I sped down the streets, I frantically tried to contact Laura to no avail; the only answer I received was the echo of the hollow ring in my ear, desperately calling out over and over again to the seemingly dear ears of the night. I needed some sign of safety, just something to set my nerves at ease. ?Pick up, pick up,? I growled into my phone, ?God damn it, babe, pick up the phone. Jesus Christ.? I slammed my fist down onto the wheel and cussed under my breath. I must have used God?s name in vain enough times to condemn me to the fiery boroughs of hell ten times over. But, none of that mattered. Every time my heart beat it sounded like thunder in my eardrums; I felt like I was being punched in the chest. All at once, I knew how Sonders had felt that fateful night when she entered her home and found that sick calling card. This was my One-Winged Angel, winking with its insidious intent. I did not bother parking when I reached my house; half of my car stuck vulnerably out into the vacant streets. I withdrew my gun and began to stalk toward the door. It felt as if I was moving through a painting, everything was so still. ?My Life? by Charles--a somber piece about a man who was tragically a stranger even unto himself. The only movement I detected was the quivering of the plastic azaleas that adorned our doorstep. I hung my head and looked at the ground. I rubbed my eyes and moved along, crouching in the shadows, doing my best to remain silent. However, the thunderstorm in my chest continued to rage on, as if my heartbeat were mocking me. I figured the killer could hear me approaching, my heartbeat growing ever so loud, like a drum beat building up to the dramatic confrontation about to take place. Slowly, carefully, I eased open the door; its barely audible creak sounded like a siren in the stillness. I crept across the floor as if it were a tight rope, carefully considering each crucial step. My eyes darted back and forth trying to adjust to what was seemingly impenetrable darkness. I slipped through rooms that followed like a tedious argument. I heard a faint rustling sound to my left. I raised my gun, only to find it pointed at Laura. A faint sliver of moonlight shivered on her figure. I gasped as if I had been holding my breath for the last several minutes. I lowered my piece and approached her wearily. ?Christ, Laura,? I said, ?I thought you were a goner.? ?What are you talking about?? she said. ?Why was the door left unlocked?? I demanded, ?Anyone could have just walked in on you.? ?I?m not afraid of intruders,? she said. It occurred to me that she essentially shared her bed with an intruder every night, so why should she be afraid? ?Well, you ought to be,? I said. I flicked on a small lamp and produced the flier. I handed it to her and she merely glanced at it, her face completely free of expression. ?I found this at an arson job,? I said, ?I think it?s related to Rico?s murder and I think you?re in danger. The killer is sending us a message, he's trying to intimidate me.? I paused to allow the words to take affect, however she showed no visible signs of registering what I had just said, for she continued to hold the flier limply at her side while her expressionless gaze seemed to be aimed through me rather than on me. ?Look,? I said, ?I have a lot of questions right now. 'Why' and 'when' are two, but we don?t have time for that right now. Right now I need to know--did you meet anyone at this club that could possibly be the suspect?? She did not answer. ?Listen honey,? I said, ?This is important. Think. Anyone at all.? Somewhere nearby a dog was howling hopelessly into the corners of the evening. I burned with the physical need to hear her speak, to say anything at all. I drew close to the wall, trying in my habitual detachment only to understand the nature of her silence. I was weary and aching and felt utterly alone. ?The things that are important to me,? she said suddenly, ?Are very simple. Honesty. Trust. Dignity. Love.? How soft and beautiful her face was; it was as if the anger welling up inside her gave her a radiance that was previously non-existant in her. Her large, sorrowful eyes seemed locked on me now, with the emotion, the shock that I couldn?t conceal. I staggered toward the window and gazed through the smoke rising through the sewers. The first embers of daylight were showing. A soft light came from behind the purple sky. I half closed my eyes. ?We don?t have time for this now,? I said, ?I know I screwed up but we-? ?You owe me more time than you?re worth,? she said. She said, ?Put on your red shoes and dance.[I]Put-on-your-red shoes-and-dance[/I].? She stared at me, penetrating me with her hatred, her eyelids quivered. The flier became a ball in her hands and fell to the floor. There was a slight calculation in her voice; each word began to rise in inflection. I could no longer bear to look at her at all. ?Put on your red shoes and dance,? she said. I heard the shatter of glass behind me as she brushed a vase off of the living room table and sent it crashing onto the floor with a thousand indecisions. ?Those words mock me every waking moment of my life,? she said. ?I was so happy, so happy. I met a man who promised to love me, who promised to always be there for me, who just as quickly vaporized like a warm rain. You left me, so suddenly, what could I have done?? ?I-Look..,? I said. I glanced back at her, her face was contorted with hatred. Her eyes shown like two dark flames and she shook her head. ?Don?t you say a word,? she said, ?I?m not finished. Again, she was looking through me at the smoky, starless sky that was still taking on a captivating glow. Only the clouds blowing in the direction of our home, disturbed the stillness. ?I couldn?t find a job anywhere,? she said, ?Oh, I tried. After the shock of your desertion finally set in, after I accepted that you had abandoned me and that I needed to eat, I tried. That?s when I found that club. I was so ashamed, I never imagined it would come to that. I compromised myself, betrayed myself so that I could eat, so that I could continue to have a place to live. I thought it was the ultimate humiliation. Greasy hands pawed at me, hungry eyes devoured me, as I danced to blaring techno music. And there, suddenly, I saw something which startled me gathering out of the gloom first as an apparition, then as a reality--him. Sephiroth." "Up to that point, I had danced for strangers; no familiar faces had witnessed my humiliation. And then he saw me and I saw the look of pity in his eyes and at that point, I knew I hated you, Charlie. After that, he never entered the club. He would wait outside for me, walk me to my car, make sure that I wasn't bothered. Ask me to reconsider what I was doing. At first I regarded him as the friend we always knew, but I began to see more and more of you in him. His walk, his manners, the way he would open the car door for me. I could feel hatred and bitterness building up in me just as old people feel the weather in their bones. My hatred for you began to consume me; it was because of you that I was having my dignity insulted night after night.? There was an unreachable detachment in her voice. ?Something in me,? she said, ?was conscious of an enormous gulf of darkness that was building up within. Yet, I felt I owed him my gratitude, because I was not yet completely dead inside and it felt reassuring just to have someone treat me like I was worthwhile. So, I insisted on having one of his blades restored. I remembered how valuable those blades were to him, from when we used to visit him years back. At first he refused, the emotion in his narrow, compassionate face disturbed me; his eyes welled with a pity that he could not hope to mask. He insisted that he protected me out of respect, out of honor. But, eventually he gave into my persistance, gave me the blade--and that?s when I paid a visit to Rico. You and I hadn?t seen him in years; You must understand, I never intended to kill him.? Her voice was losing its composure, it began to quiver. I had ignored the signs in her and now I clung desperately to the wall trying to believe that this was all a bad dream. "Laura," I said, "You didn't. Not you.' ?I never intended to kill him,? she repeated, ?But all he could talk about was [I]you[/I]. You, you [I]you[/I]. He was so glad to see me; he kept asking me how you were, how we were getting along together. Of course, in reality there was no "we" anymore so I lied and said that everything was fine." "He began to insist on visiting us. He was very persistent. He said that retirement could be lonely without old friends. He sat against the velvet arm of his couch, his long legs stretched out. He looked so wistful talking about your time on the force together. I felt my hand tightening on the hilt of the blade, never considering for a second what I was about to do. I stood there, staring mutely, a great cloud of rage growing before me, hearing about how great of a man my husband was. I felt myself slipping, moving away towards a sublime and doomed instinct.? I felt her eyes move over me as her voice trailed off and then softly she added, ?I never planned on it.? ?Enough,? I said. ?Of course, I was panicked,? she said, ?I?m not a murderer. I was going to tell Sephiroth what I had done. But, at that moment, holding that sword in my hand, feeling the power of it, of taking charge of my own life, I did a strange thing. Suddenly, I wanted to kill anything that was a part of you.? Her lips formed the faintest smile, it was thin and bitter. ?I covered it up,? she said, ?without even thinking about what I was doing. I was operating on pure instinct at that point. I cleaned up the scene as best I could and beat up my face just enough to raise some swelling and leave some bruises. I would convince Sephiroth that I had slain Rico in self-defense. He appeared to be awestruck at the idea of Rico imposing himself on me--quiet, innocent Rico. But as the silence lengthened after my 'confession', I began to weep hysterically, about how my own husband had abandoned me, how Rico, an old friend had betrayed me in the most intimate way, about how I had no one left and nothing to live for, about how no one would believe a stripper over the corpse of a well-respected former lieutenant." "I knew you would come back to Otaku City, because of this Charlie, but I never expected you to be low enough to just walk back in here. I thought I would have to track you down. I also did not expect Sephiroth would take the blame for what I had done in order to protect your feelings of all things. Perhaps he was trying to buy me some time or perhaps he knew that no one would possibly believe that Rico would attempt to rape someone. I could not understand him. At any rate, I just expected him to get my sentence reduced. His unwavering loyalty to you make it easier for me to sleep at night.? ?No!" I cried. I spun around to meet her and instead met a knife through the right side of my chest. Suddenly, everything was quiet. She released me and I fell back against the wall, my eyes wide with fear and confusion. And out of the dark nightmarish landscape of my memory I saw her gazing at me with desperation. I stumbled forward and she supported my weight, as I leaned into her arms. Suddenly, it was Spring and two young lovers were getting married to a chorus of well-wishes, enveloped in the optimism of tomorrow. The wife wore a flowing white gown that seemed to go on forever and the groom?s eyes shone with ambition. It was spring and a happy life presented itself for two lucky people and a new life was on the way. It was summer, and the husband was doing his job and doing it well. Only, a gulf was growing between himself and everything he cared about, his job, his wife. It was summer and although their home was now more quiet than it once was, no longer with the promise of a child hanging over it, it was still a happy place. It was fall, and the husband began to stare at passing by trains enviously. It was fall and as he turned to go, a voice in his mind cried out for him to wait, but he ignored it. Suddenly the love, the promise of their marriage never existed and they ceased to whispier intimacies to one another in bed, or hold one another when the fears of life rattled their courage. It was winter and an old friend was dead, another accused of the murder. An angry woman clenched her fists with an absolute resolve to find the killer. The husband bowed his head and returned, filled with shame. It was winter, and now in the darkness of the early morning, two silhouettes leaned together as if in an embrace. I gazed down at the knife in the right portion of my chest and sighed deeply. ?Japan, oh Japan,? I said, ?There?s the difference between us. I?ve always gone for the heart.? Suddenly, her face turned into a mass of lumps and tears streamed down her cheeks as she let out a strangely beautiful cry in the night. ?Shut up,? she said, ?Just shut up.? ?I guess, I won?t be winning any husband-of-the-year awards anytime soon, will I?? I said. ?Probably not,? she said. ?We?re a mess, aren?t we?? I said. ?Yeah,? she said, "we are." Suddenly a thunderous explosion rang out, shattering the peace. A chill rose over me as I held fast to Laura?s shoulder. As we sank to the floor, the moon revealed for an instant, the pale outline of agent Sonders with her hands outstretched, holding a pistol. The deadly report of the gun rung in my ears. A stream of smoke rose from the barrel of the gun and curled around her figure. I detected not so much a faint smile on Sonders' face, but rather a look of quiet satisfaction. As Laura and I lay on the floor together, I stared into her misty eyes. They were becoming increasingly cloudy as her life bled out onto the carpet underneath us. I tried desperately to mouth an apology and I fumbled around until I found her hand. I squeezed it tightly, but her own grip was weak, barely perceptible. Suddenly the world began to spin and a flood of red and blue sirens filled the room. I heard Sonders calling my name somewhere in the distance but I paid it no mind. It felt as if Laura and I were weightless and with the room spinning, and the lights circulating around us like they were--it felt like we were dancing together in the air. As I began to lose consciousness, as everything turned dark, I could see Laura dancing in the night, only she wasn?t encumbered by the bitterness I had burdened her with. She looked as she did when I had first met her, a lifetime ago.

[quote name='Nerdsy][color=deeppink']It still stings. D :[/color][/quote] Well, if it's any consolation, if I made a hierarchy you would be among the elite. Maybe I will consider either pulling the article or adding some further disclaimer to it. If it's really bothering a number of you, I would rather just avoid having it become a problem, honestly.

[QUOTE=Aaryanna_Mom][INDENT]P.S. Do the dog next, please (with pics)![/INDENT] Were you serious about that or just kidding? Or were you looking for more to add on to Aaryanna's entry? [/QUOTE] I think it'd be pretty funny if the dog had its own entry. After all, much has been said about its snazzy outfits. Also, Digitalboy, I think the article makes it clear that it is [i]Deathknight's[/i] hierarchy. The article was not intended to be a factual assessment of the quality of any of the members mentioned. Plus, I just liked Ken's post. I thought it was creative.

[quote name='Nerdsy][color=deeppink']Charles, we have quite a few proposed articles collecting dust in this thread. My article on Ben, SunFallE's article on the Christmas Banner Contest, Clurr's article on the Secret OB Mod Forum, etc. [/color][/quote] Man, I didn't even notice them, so it's more an issue of my negligence than an issue of them needing improvement. I'll look them over and if they do not need any further adjustment, they will go in for the next update.

Great list Nerdsy. I'll post an announcement either really late tonight or early tomorrow morning. I meant to get it up earlier, but it's finals week so I have been incredibly strapped for time. We should have an Otakupedia Friday/Saturday though. lol

[QUOTE=2007DigitalBoy][COLOR=DarkOrange]Yes, ma'am. After all, I do not even remotely trust you with that thing. :p Come to think of it, you have consistently been the simgle mod to patronize me at least 10 times more than any other in the total time I've been here, despite me having been here even longer than yourself. Kinda reminds me of those stories where some young businessman buys a company and fires the older workers for insufficiency, lol. [/COLOR][/QUOTE] It doesn't matter how long one is here; it's what one does with their time here that matters. Also, I don't know that I would call earnest warnings "patronizing."

[quote name='DeathKnight][color=crimson']I went along with Charles because I think he was being humorous. [/color][/quote] Now that you've mentioned a category for me, yes, yes I was. Yessssss.

So now we're grouping people into hierarchies of intelligence? No want.

[QUOTE=Hylian]1. Any fads here? 2. Who are the most famous members? [/QUOTE] Read Otakupedia. Also, I own the theOtaku network and OtakuBoards--although I am in the market to sell it. PM me with an offer.

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My car choked and backfired down empty streets, toward the general area where [I]Put On Your Red Shoes And Dance[/I] was supposed to be. The vehicle's offensive outbursts crackled like thunder; little did I know that I was heading into the eye of a storm I would never forget. The mask of night would have made it impossible to spot the black wisps of smoke ascending in bands toward the sky, had the burned-out strip club not become a tragic candle in the night. Yes, I remember the night sky glowed orange, an artificial dawn that foreshadowed disaster instead of the start of a new day. Local apocalypse. News at Eleven. I approached the scene slowly, allowing myself to absorb the spinning red lights of fire engines that glared like red demons in the streaked and greasy windshield of my ancient set of wheels. I sucked my teeth at the gutted structure that fell apart like paper. "I never was any good at Chess," I said to myself. Crowds had already formed, people lured out into the night by the powerful pull of the disaster. The onlookers smacked their lips as news reporters scratched into their notepads whatever they had to say. Just as I was waved past the police barrier and parked my car, my cell phone rang, the most modern thing I owned. The cell phone was six years old and the size of a brick. No caller ID either. Piece of shit. ?Must be one of my ex-wives,? I said to a nearby officer. The guy?s bleak visage softened and he smiled. Before I could take the call, I heard my name. ?Special Agent Charles,? someone said. It was one of the firefighters standing in front of a strip club that had seen better days. Looking over the destruction, I knew that whatever hit it was big. The building was gutted like a skeleton, half of the walls were blown out leaving behind what looked like a gunshot wound. ?Yeah, that?s me,? I said, ?But why don?t you call me Charles instead?? The young firefighter led me into the building. While he had his heavy burn-resistant coat to protect him, I had no such luxury--only my leather jacket shielded me from the water that dripped down from the upper tiers of the wreckage like a black rain. The soot mixed with the water and the scenery formed a portrait of what I suspected the fifth level of hell must look like. All around us there was nothing but ash and decay. There was no hope of rebuilding from what remained. I knew they were going to knock it down, leaving behind nothing but an empty lot, a the stray pile of rubble here and there to add to the flavor of urban decay. As I remember it, the building was collapsing much like my confidence as a detective. But like a clam I was a bivalve animal with a shell of two parts. I was good at hiding things. I scanned the place for anything that could have been a trigger while my nose took in the scents lingering in the air. The hickory scent of burnt wood. The sick medicinal scent of melted plastic. The thick, ugly scent of immolated cloth. Among the swirling scents of fire and destruction I caught what I was looking for--the sharp, stinging scent of gas. Of course the firebug who did this didn?t want it to be confused with an accident. He was sending a message. Was it the same person responsible for Rico's murder? Fuck if I knew, but I was going to get to the bottom of it. I was an investigator. ? No timer,? I said, ?It means our bug lit this by hand and ran like hell once it got nice and toasty. Look--there. Grab that.? I pointed to an object sitting on a blacked piece of wood floor. The rookie fireman got it for me and handed it to me. It was a single, flawless crimson high heel shoe that appeared to have taken no damage in the fire; its sheen was out of place among the destruction. It was the color of blood, it was--haunting. I was surprised to find a piece of neatly folded paper tucked inside the shoe. I took out my tweezers and an evidence bag. I slowly removed the letter. There could have been fingerprints on it but I doubted it. This was done by someone who knew what they were doing. Still, I could have been busted down for contaminating evidence if I didn?t put it in its plastic bag. I folded the paper open and read it before putting it in the bag and sealing the Ziplock. I quickly tucked the baggie inside my coat pocket. Carefully, I moved through the piles of rubble and the wet pools of sludge that formed from high pressure water being used to put the place out. I finally made it to the wet asphalt as the crews slowly went about cleaning up and packing all their stuff away. I got into my car and sat silently with my head bowed for several minutes. My hands grasped the steering wheel so tightly that they turned white before I finally drove off. The letter I had found and stolen at the crime scene was actually a flier dated eight months back; it was a photograph of my wife outfitted in a revealing silk red dress. "Come and see our newest sensation, the sensual Japan 69, put on her red shoes and dance--live!"

It was very late. I can remember it as if it were yesterday. It was just like the old days, all right. I sighed and leaned back against the chair and looked at the wall as if my next move should be plotted on it. I was losing my mind. A creased train schedule rested in my pocket and my thoughts returned to it over and over again, almost on impulse. The thought of disappearing taunted me like a carrot on a rope. I closed my eyes and saw the cherub porcelain face that Sonders had found staring at her through the night. Its eyes were wide and it had a small, almost imperceptible smile on it, as if it was laughing at an inside joke that it wouldn?t let us in on. I smiled when I first gazed upon it and she looked at me like I was crazy. That's what inspired my next move. That's what brought me to this place, in particular. I needed guidance from a mind very much like my own, but far removed from the complexities of a sanity that now clouded my thoughts. I needed to descened into madness to clear my head, to find the answers I needed. I was out drinking all the time and was home as little as possible; I lived like a man who was ready to die. I thought of Sonders? gift and wished that I was the one who had received it, for I truly wished to be murdered. All these were mad thoughts, but I relished in them because they were like morphine to me. My main thought was this: As long as I concentrated on a case that for all intents and purposes should have been closed just hours ago, the pain of living with myself would be dulled for the time being. So, I relished in my drunkenness, I relished in my madness, for it was when I was at my most clairvoyant. ?Check. It?s your move,? a voice said. I smiled again, at the thought of Sonders being the one who was told to see the department psychologist. Slowly, I raised my head. ?I said, it?s your move,? the voice repeated. Alex leaned forward so that his face was illuminated by the lamplight, his gray eyes burned with suffering. One could plainly see that he was no ordinary man at all. ?I see,? I said, ?I must have been daydreaming.? I rubbed a rook in-between my thumb and pointer finger meditatively. ?Film student here, ?Alex said, ?It?s stupid and nonsensical to continue this performance of yours.? ?Am I that transparent?? I said. ?Well,? Alex said, ?let?s just say it?s a good thing we?re not playing cards with that poker face of yours--or lack thereof. How is the case going?? Alex had been my friend for years. He was now doing time in Otaku City?s maximum security asylum. He had a certain brilliance to him, but it was enclosed with madness that made the value of human life as evident to him as a piece of perfectly clear glass--it was there, but he often looked right past it in the selfish pursuit of his goals. He was once a prominant politician, but years of scandal and physical intimidation brought his career and his freedom to an abrupt end. Because of my presence on the Otaku Police Force, his reckless behavior was often overlooked--but when he bludgeoned a man to the brink of death over a simple disagreement, his fate was out of my hands. "It took commissioner Burns himself to get me," Alex would boast proudly, "Commissioner Burns and fifteen officers." I tried to mask my true reason for visiting Alex, on that night, yet I knew his discovery of my thinly veiled intentions was inevitable from the moment I stepped into that room. ?How do you know about my case,? I asked. ?Some things are so big that the walls can?t even hide them,? he said simply. Two security guards looked on mundanely as I clicked my piece down on the board, completing my move. One of them casually placed a hand on Alex's shoulder, to signal him that our time was almost up. ?Put on your red shoes and dance,? I said to myself. Alex?s face was suddenly tense with a mixture of confusion and excitement. ?You?ve been there?? he said. ?It?s what I miss most about my freedom.? I was struck suddenly with the urge to question him, but before I could speak he went on . ?I usually don?t frequent strip joints, but that one--that one is [i]glorious.[/i]? ?What are you talking about?? I said. He looked at me as if I were joking. When he saw that I was not he frowned and his brows drew together. ?You just brought it up?? he said. ?That strip club on the outskirts of town--Put On Your Red Shoes and Dance?? I stared at the table now, not entirely satisfied with what I had just heard. Was he making a joke out of me? I felt a wave of distress at the thought that he might be serious. I shifted and leaned forward in my chair, and found myself again looking into Alex?s eyes and then I was incredulous. The one clue that had made me consider securing a private apartment in this very asylum could have been easily found in a simple phone book. The empty ticking of the clock puncuated my thoughts and I began to laugh softly at how hilarious life could be. Alex began to laugh also. The only difference between us and the sane was that we were able to look at life in a different sort of way--we were in on the joke. He reached across the board now and gently tapped my King over. ?Check mate,? Alex said. ?Chess never really has been your game, has it??

Wow! The nostalgia! Sometimes I think you live in my head, Shy. I was just thinking about FQFG. The other day as I was sifting through the staff forum, I noticed an old thread by RicoTranzrig about declining post counts related to the deletion of this RPG. Some staff members lost approximately 200 posts each! It sort of bothers me that no one really gives FQFG its just due. Honestly, I think that the concept alone was what inspired me to even get into roleplaying at all; it was just so timeless and addicting. It was one of those RPGs that defined OtakuBoards at the time if you were a part of it. I'm sure that if we launched a new version, today's members would be in awe because really, I think that it's something that [i]everyone[/i] could commonly enjoy. It's just a shame that the old thread isn't around anymore. We never really found out who deleted it. Maybe someone was so addicted to it, they had to do away with it. Who knows. lol If you can get an article going, we will have to have an Otakupedia Friday theme dedicated to it. [B]Edit[/B]: Just an update here. Obviously, we really didn't get anything in the way of submissions this week. That, coupled with this being the end of my final semester, means that I have been too strapped for time to write up enough articles myself to warrant an official update. So, there won't be an Otakupedia Friday tomorrow, but have no worries, it will return the following week. There are some articles that I am indeed working on and if no one makes any submissions by next Friday, I should have enough done to do an update. Specifically, I really want to do a theme on Final Quest For Glory for the next Otakupedia Friday, so I want to allow Shy the time to pull enough together to make that worthwhile.