from the OTHER archives: Socks, Part 3, Chapters 7-8

It’s your friendo Vane Vander back at it again with another installment of From The Other Archives, bringing you the best, the least dank, and the tastiest writing from Way Back When when I actively protested against buying a smart phone. Those were dark times.

Huh. It’s really cold out here. Good thing none of those freaks bothered to pack me a coat, or at least a sweater! Jerks.
Oh well. Nothing like a flight in plain sight (Hey that rhymes!) to get the blood flowing.

At least you didn’t have to put a blatant marker in order to point out your sarcasm. Good job, Algeria. You’re improving day by day.

I jumped and started flying. No running takeoffs for me. Another reason I’m unique, although it does take a lot more energy.

One of the most important rules of writing is not to “shade” the source material. And here I was, thinking that we were on an uphill climb.

But what’s energy and body heat when you’re surrounded by snow? Natural crash pads! Except not as soft and cushiony.

Do you realize how hard the Minnesota snow can get compacted? Have you ever had a dense wet snowball hit your face in the middle of dead winter?

“There’s a bus!” I screamed. It wasn’t like anybody could hear me the way I scream.“There’s Emma! And here’s me, about to die from the cold! Just kidding!” I’d warmed up. All better!

The human range of speech is from 100 hertz to 2500 hertz. Dogs can hear from 67 hertz to 45 kilohertz and humans from 20 hertz to 20 kilohertz. Algeria, it is physically impossible for you to be screaming at such a high tone for a sustained amount of time, and even if you could, a poor dog would have to hear you and would be barking its ass off. Do you really want to attract the attention of a pissed off dog owner?

I slowly dropped down to the bus stop, where Emma was waiting in her big purple coat. She looked so cute in that!

G, you looked obese in that coat. Stop writing self inserts so that you can congratulate yourself for being a pathetic human being.

I probably wouldn’t. My wings would be mucho (that’s Spanish for you kids) uncomfortable.

If you’re going to go all Spanglish in a stale attempt at humor, be educated about it and realize that it’s “muy” that you would want to use for adjectives, not “mucho”.

3 minutes until the bus came. I looked kind of weird without any coat or a backpack.

You look like a hallucination from a bad acid trip.

Good thing Emma had promised to share her stuff with me.

Socialism: it starts young!

Oh, time flies- here’s the bus!
The big bumpy bus!
The big, bumpy, very densely populated bus!

You should be scared. You, a delusion, can travel anywhere in the world- and you’re choosing to go to an aging institution? Why?

This bus is very crowded!

As school buses are. You would know that if you weren’t so busy trying to break into the entertainment industry.

Emma had to squish me, herself, an almost full-size viola, and her backpack into the same seat.

It gets easier when you have a storage unit inside of the orchestra room. It also gets easier when you can keep your emotional baggage tucked neatly inside your cranium space.

“So, Emma, what’s going on today?” I asked. Thank goodness this bus is heated!
“Stuff,” Emma said. “Say, I just remembered something I wanted to ask you.”


Here we go again.
“You didn’t happen to have flying lessons yesterday, did you? And then some freaks kidnapped you? And then there was a teleportation tank filled with purple stuff. Any of that ring a bell?”
“How did you know?” I asked. I had thought that the intense events of last night/early morning had been a secret between the freaks and me.

“Algeria…” the big brute in front of her whispered, trying not to wake up the two abusive parents. “You’re a self-insert.”

“I’m a what?” she said, confused.

Then I remembered- we were the same. It had obviously been Emma’s dream, so naturally she would have known what had happened.
Which had explained why Emma had let me in so easily. She was sympathising.

I know that you’d have to be physically superior to the average human in order to be able to fly (and also break the laws of physics), but how much did you exert doing all those mental gymnastics? Your wings must make it easy to jump to conclusions.

But about that bus we had to ride on- did I mention that it was crowded?

Is it just the mental stress of school getting to me, or am I really tired right now? Tired of deadlines, of obligations, of this little whiny prick constantly repeating herself… I have enough of that in my life. Please don’t add more.

The halls were no better, as there was never enough room to stretch my wings out fully. Not that I wanted to, of course. I kept them tucked in the whole time, because I had never been to this school before and therefore I didn’t know who was just a freak in disguise.

If your wings are so small as to fit underneath your shirt without painful bindings, then how are they powerful enough as to lift your body into the air?

After 7 debilitating (that means ‘exhausting’) minutes,

This is why paper thesauruses aren’t used nearly as much now as they were back before the internet. People like you keep abusing them, and they’re going extinct. Stop abusing thesauruses, Algeria, or I’m calling the police.

we made it to the art room, where we could stretch our legs, and without bumping our legs on the long foot rests if you were careful.

How Not To Write A Run-On Sentence

7 minutes to go until this school day started, and my leg still hurts, which is why it’s still laying on the foot rest for the moment.

Nice unnecessary tense shift, G. If only I could do that- then I would go back in time and erase this book. Or maybe give you some more professional editing…


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