CNF-Food

Spaghetti was dinner for tonight, relatively easy to make and can be eaten for about three days or so but you have to make a huge pot. Feeding two adults and six boys is quite a challenge. My mom said she would make it against my wishes since I wanted to make it. Last year I had to cook all the family meals for seven months while mom was truck-driving. I became especially good at making spaghetti, better even than my mom could make or so I thought. My mother’s pride and mine would never allow us to agree on which one was better.

Anyway my mom started to gather the ingredients; one and a half package of short noodles, six cans of Tomato & Basil sauce, and a huge block of meat that may or may not be a pound heavy. Frying the meat is easy; all you need to do its chop it up, mix it around and smack any thieving hand that gets too close. Cooking noodles is even easier; just boil it in water til its soft. Although the first time I made spaghetti it tasted like mushy, paste. Facts I still entirely blame on my elder brother, what sort of numskull can’t tell if noodles are undercooked or not? Only a fool can’t cook sauce and momma ain’t no fool and she stirs it in a separate pot. I prefer to cook the sauce with the fried meat so when I add sugar it looks like a warm, tangy, blood-red stew.

Mom finished and dumped everything in a stupidly huge pot and was stirring it all up. My brothers would sometimes crack jokes that she looked like a witch stirring a cauldron and mom would cackle and flick sauce at us. There’s no table in the house large enough to sit us all so everybody had to grab a plate,  serve themselves and wander off somewhere in the house to eat. The problem is there’s always a dispute of who gets to eat first. By the laws of the nature the strongest eat first and that’s how it mostly is at dinner time in my house. Mom eats first then it’s either me or my older brother and then I don’t really care who eats next.

After a heavy dose of parmesan cheese I wolf everything down yet still savoring the flavor. The noodles are well cooked, the meat is perfectly brown and the sauce has a bitter flavor to it that comes with the pounds of herbs, spices, and giblets mom love to drown the sauce in. When my hunger is sated I complement mom on her mediocre dish and she graciously accepted while hurdling her fork at me

CNF Picture

            He looked so happy, he looked so soft. He was wearing a small, black buttoned-up shirt with a ridiculous red tie; his pants resembled a checker board in design as he sat in very small chair. He was squealing in delight at whatever the photographer was doing to grab his attention. Behind him is an iron grey screen that is streaked diagonally like it’s raining. His hair was shaved on the sides of his head which was the ‘style’ back then. The small, chubby hands where resting at his sides. The year and a half baby was in his first official picture and he looked so…weak. That would all change as he aged; the boy would make sure of that.

            The boy was born into a pagan family of three brothers and his mother. From his mother the boy would learn all there was about the metaphysical world and magic. The boy will be enchanted by this world of his mother; he’ll study anything dealing in spiritual work; mostly about angels, necronomicon spells, astrological signs, spirit work. The boy did this mainly for selfish reasons though; even now he can’t exactly tell why he lust for power. Along with his brothers he developed a near obsession for fighting. It started with watching Dragonball Z when the oldest brother was nine and the youngest was six months. As the brothers grew in size so too did their rumbles grew in destructuction; they saw nothing wrong with broken windows and caved in walls if they could be easily covered. The boy’s relationship with his sire would be monotonous; the first time they met his sire took the boy’s popcorn which somehow caused the eight month old baby glare… They never seemed to be able to mend that bridge.

            As they boy grew into a teenager he became dissatisfied with what he considered to be a human weakness; emotions. To do away with those pesky mortal problems he blocked them out them through excessive mind work. He would sharpen his mind into weapon that would eventually turn him into a clever, bitterly sarcastic person. He would sometimes stay up all night thinking or meditating on ways to banish his emotional side. When he fought with his brothers his fighting style would mirror his mind frame. Although having no advantage in strength or even considered quick-footed he would fight with an intensity few could match. He would eventually refine his style into such a way that he would be able to defeat opponents a hundred pounds heavier than himself. He was silent fury incarnated at his best, borderlining cruelty and ruthlessness that was only matched by his own conscious. When the boy turns sixteen he will pride himself on the potential weapon he becomes, a weapon only to be used by one man; himself.

            Although emotions still proves a problem for him, sadness and disappointment being the most prominent. Suppressed emotions are not perfectly bottled up; they just hide until the breaks lose in the most inappropriate time. Negative emotions always seem to be the ones to slip past the boy’s walls.  Still he learns to get by, his quest for power helps to guide him and accomplishment, scholar-wise, occupies his time in the present. However, whenever those sentimental feelings return he will sometimes gaze at the picture of his year and a half self and ponder how someone as strong as he was something as weak as that.

            Still it must be said, I was a pretty cute baby.

CNF-Monolouge

John Cena’s Heel Turn

            So here’s the deal Cenation, I’m trying to convince Mr. McMahon to let me turn heel. To the ‘little jimmy’s’ out there that don’t know what I’m talking about a heel turn is when a good guy suddenly turns into a bad guy. Now the steps for a successful heel turn is either, A) Betray your tag team partner or ‘brother’ for selfish reason or, B) You attack everybody else and insult the fans any chance you get. Being the present-day Superman of the WWE, I don’t have a partner because Superman doesn’t need a partner so Option A is out. I could squash all the jobbers and those ‘would-be main eventers if I joined Vince’s ‘Kiss My Ass’ club, the problem is that my fan base is 95 percent made of children and chicks that dig my muscles. This wouldn’t be a problem if it was still the attitude-era but now since Vince decided to go PG, most of the fans are kids whose balls haven’t dropped yet and would stop watching if the saw their Superman turns evil. I could always go back to my rapper days, making up witty rhymes and acting like I’m black but being the face of a company means I can’t sag my pant anymore. O well, at least you'll see me becoming the new WWE Champion every few months.

            Word Life