“That’s a … nice … dress you got on there captain.” A midget stared up at me though an eye patch and a thick clump of hair over his eyes.

“Oh no I’m not–” I tried to say. I held a small basket of fish and herbs close to my chest. A man has never approached me outside of school before.

“The ship is ready to launch.” He tuned and took several steps down the pier.

I stood and watched as this little hairball of a man swung his legs back and forth in an effort to walk. It took him several of these exaggerated steps just to achieve a normal gait. I’d seen men in the village walk like that before. He was bow-legged. I thought it was from ridding horses, how would a sailor get it?

The midget stopped and turned, like a toy top trying to keep centrifugal force from pulling itself apart, to face me. “You were right captain, the island can only be found as the sun sets.” He took a few more steps before turning around to face me again. “If we leave now we’ll make it in time.”

“But I’m not…” captain, me? I followed him on to a rather large ship. The sheer size of it made him look more like a barnacle than a crew member. We walked past giant egg shaped men covered in fur. They had huge round bellies and short stubby arms and legs. I had to hold back laughter because they wobbled when they walked.

We climbed a set of stairs and the midget took stage on a small platform above the deck, overlooking the entire crew. I quickly brushed hair over my face as the midget spoke.

“We are about to set off for the island! Soon we will be rolling in treasures beyond our wildest dreams.” He looked at me. “Why don’t you say a few words before we set sail?”

I took the stage as he created a psychological vacuum with the large sweeping motions of his legs. I took a deep breath and lowered my voice. “I’m sorry… I um–”

“Don’t be sorry captain, I can’t even dress myself.” One sailor laughed, holding up stump arm. “We could kill the tailor if you like.” They all howled with laughter now.

I looked down my dress. It was a pretty blueberry color with a floral pattern. It was the best dress I owned. I held out the dress with my hand and twirled in the breeze. I was beautiful.

The midget, running as fast as his bent legs would allow, crossed in front of me to yell at the men. “You ugly scum wouldn’t know fashion if it hit you in the face.” He apologized to me. “I’m sorry captain; it’s a very lovely dress, not your normal silk or gold, but still very beautiful, in a commoner sort of way.”

The men howled in laughter.

“Alright you lazy bastards, set sail.” The midget waved his hand at the men like he was the giant and they were the flies. He walked down the stairs and I followed him into a large room in the back of the ship.

Lights and colors danced over my eyes as I looked around the room. Racks of neatly organized dresses, shirts, hats, and shoes covered the walls. Each was carefully color-coded creating a rainbow as one set flowed into the next. The display drew my eyes to the back of the room. Velvet curtains glowed in the sunlight behind a large wooden desk.

The midget stood in front of the desk, his head barely over the top. I walked around and sat in a plush leather chair. It was like sitting on a cloud, as I sank it formed around me, supporting every inch of my body.

“Alright captain, now we just need the final location.” He pulled out a large rolled piece of paper from his jacket. The paper was almost as long as his entire body. Was that why he walked funny? He had trouble unrolling the paper. He put a push pin in one corner, sticking it to the desk, and walked around the desk sticking pins in the other corners until it laid flat. It was a map.

“We just came from the Bering Strait and I’m pretty sure it can’t be any farther east because the water is just too shallow for an island.”

He pointed at one mass of squiggly lines after another on the map. I’d never even seen a map before. I couldn’t tell which parts were water and which where land.

“So you learned the final location?” he asked me.

I just smiled. I could feel the blood trying to rush to my face. It took every ounce of strength just to keep it down.

“So it is in the Dead Waters after all. Any ship would be crazy to sail in there.” He laughed so I laughed too. “Good thing we’re not any ship!” He pulled the map off the desk, ripping the pins out. “I’ll inform the navigator.” He wobbled back and forth as he made the long walk to the door. With his hand on the knob he turned and smiled at me. “I don’t know how you do it, but you always pull though for us.” With that the midget left.

I got up from the desk and walked over to a row of shoes covered in rubies. “And who said men don’t listen.”

©Chris Richards 2009

Recently I’ve fallen in love with node.js a web server written in JavaScript.

Ok it’s not really a web server, it makes IO functions available to JavaScript code in a completely non-blocking way! What does that mean? It means it’s incredibly fast. Yeah ok, how fast is incredibly fast I hear you saying. Right now in testing people are getting a node.js server that can handle 15,000 simultaneous comet requests. With some effort they think they can push that up to 100,000 simultaneous comet requests! The fastest web server that I know of is nginx which (according to WordPress) can handle 8,000 connections a second.

But it’s JavaScript you say, JavaScript isn’t fast. It must be witchcraft!

Kind of, node.js is using Google’s v8 engine, which is the fastest JavaScript available. (Some guys even made an NES emulator.) The other step is to get away from the threading system that most web servers use. It’s inefficient and wastes a lot of resources. If you want to know more, read up on the node.js website.

What do I plan on doing with node.js? Well so far I created an auto loader for help with developing. I’m also going to try my hand at a simple MVC framework for node.js. I’ve also been thinking about a Facebook game running off of node.js or something to watch and track changes on files at work. There are a lot of possibilities, most of which I haven’t even begun to scratch the surface. If you like JavaScript, I suggest you give node.js a try.

What

An easy to use rating control. It takes a normal select box, and turns it into a rating that your users can click on. The select box is preserved so you can still bind on change, get, and set the value in the rating control. The image is controlled with CSS and a simple gif, so you can make it look like anything you need.

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I want to talk a little bit about scope. Normally, scope is an easy concept, but there are a few little twists and turns in Javascript that make scope more complicated than it would seam. First, some basics.
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What:

A plugin for jQuery that makes serializing input elements easy. Once serialized you can send the elements back to the server with AJAX.

Why:

There is a big problem with jQuery’s built in $.serialize() method. It only uses the input elements name attribute. In practice I found that the name attribute is rarely used, most people use the id attribute instead. The only exception is the radio input, then you have to use the name attribute. This plugin will attempt to use the id attribute first, if it’s blank, it’ll use the name attribute instead.
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Cooked ground beef and spices filled the air. Chris’ mouth watered. “Three hard tacos” Chris said, his voice louder than normal. Sounds of people eating and talking filtered though an open doorway. He rubbed the stiff dollars between his thumb and fingers while the cashier silently punched the keys. Even with beef in the air, he could still smell the fresh ink on the bills. The cashier took the money in exchange for a smooth slip of paper.

“Our Janet is now the Magenta, and Brad is now Frank-N-Furter. We have just about every one. We just need to fill those two parts.” Hanna forced an empty cup into the soda fountain. The whoosh of Coke emitted carbonation in the air.

Chris’s nose twitched, the dry carbon smell of fresh Coke blocked out the dark spice smell from Hanna’s lotion. “I think I know someone for Brad, but we still need a Janet. The girls have a problem with undressing on stage.” Chris talked into the filling cup. The moment the carbonation reached the top, he brought it up.  He bit at the foam, inhaling the carbonation, canceling even the strong smell of beef.

“Janet” a brave feminine voice said. “Brad Majors and Janet Weiss?”

Chris and Hanna turned to see a petite girl behind them. She too was clutching a thin, impossibly smooth slip of paper. Their eyes darted along this girl. Her All-Star shoes, torn jeans, and band tee competed with Hanna’s fish net gloves, tight pants, and knee high boots.

“Yeah.” Hanna didn’t take her eyes off the girl. “We’re putting on the Rocky Horror Picture Show.”

Chris quickly wiped the foam away from his nose. Vivid red and green flowers encircled on her shoes.

“I Love Rocky Horror” she squealed. “Do you have any parts left? Can I audition? I used to MC for it back in my home town. I did it every year.” Her body bounced as one leg bent slightly back and forth.

“Do you mind running around in your underwear in front of 300 people?” Hanna asked.

Chris concentrated hard to hear the cashier call his order number.

“Not at all, I’m Kassi.” She held out her hand.

Hanna shook it. “I’m Hana the producer, and this is Chris the director. Just come to rehearsal tomorrow at 7.”

“I’ll be there.” Kassi turned around to wait for her food.

Chris and Hanna found an empty table. “Do you think she’ll show up?” Hanna asked.

“I hope so.” Traces of an unknown shampoo lingered in the air.

©Chris Richards

A soon as my girl walks in the door I rub on her leg. Smells of the outside world sift though my nose. The place she spends her days, the one filled with strawberries, cigarettes, and chicken. I love smelling my girl on these days. She bends over so I can lick the chicken stains off her fingers. Her breath is slow and steady; it was a good day for her. I decide to test my luck and pull her into the kitchen. I was right, she grabs some treats from the cupboard.

After feeding me a few, she moves though the kitchen, her heart starting to pump faster. I jump to the counter and draw her attention. She’s gathering items together, she must be cooking. She waves me off the counter and I find a nice warm spot along the wall. I sit and watch her as she cooks. The metal pans clank together with a dull, old sound. Spices start to fill the air and steam covers her face. She’s starting to sweat, that means she’ll cover herself in fake pine and cinnamon smells before my man comes home. I drift off to sleep; she’s not going anywhere for a while.

I awake to the sound of a distant, heavy door opening and the jingle of keys. It’s my man. I look around to find my girl; she’s not in the kitchen anymore. The smell of boiled meat and grain mixed with some sort of spice. I consider getting up, but the surrounding air is cold and my man won’t feed me treats. The front door opens and my man walks in with a large paper bag covering his face. His keys continued to jingle as he walks into the kitchen. He calls out to my girl. None of the sound indicated me so I stayed put.

My man scratched my head quickly as he searched the house for my girl. His hands smelled like wild flowers and a hint of something musky. They both came back from the bedroom. He walked out first, then she came up from behind him and pounced. She cleaned the side of his face and he carried her into the kitchen. I could smell her sex. She never presented for him. This whole process would be easier if she just presented and called for him. They will spend the whole evening in a cat and mouse game. Some nights they spend so long playing this game that they never get around to mating. I find my way to the couch and go back to sleep.

The noise box woke me up again. They are both sitting on separate sides of the couch. She still had a lingering aroused smell, but no mating smell. Another failed attempt tonight. I hopped down on her lap to comfort her. Her fingers had a similar musky smell. I purred and she stroked my back. Her heart slowed and her breathing matched mine. The night’s not over, maybe she can try again.

&copyChris Richards 2009

Humanity doesn’t need faith in me, they need hope in themselves. For example let’s look at these two teenagers, Bruce and Sofie. Every Monday and Wednesday, they sit next to each other in history class. I watch as Sofie spends the class writing “Bruce” over and over in her notebook. She dreams about him talking to her, asking her out. Anxiety and hormones slush in her brain, creating an intense battlefield, leaving her paralyzed. Bruce fights the same battle as he tries to not stare at Sofie’s snug breasts each day. As I look into their futures, I see that their anxieties will prevent them from realizing their mutual attraction. Even if I put them in a group project together, force them to talk, they would still be too paralyzed to act upon these desires.

And yet, despite these anxieties, they continue to fantasize about each other. They cannot see their own future, so they live on, in hope that one day, things will work out. Bruce could overcome this anxiety with a little self esteem, but he doesn’t know how to build it. His culture has lost this knowledge and replaced it with something they call “will power.” He doesn’t take control of his own life; he’s too scared, so he becomes a blade of grass, just accepting whatever comes his way. Sofie spends the semester praying. Instead of talking to me, she should be talking to Bruce. This passive acceptance creates a downward spiral causing the anxiety and depression to build. These forces can take over their minds, until one day they break. And yet, I can see their future, and I know they never break. Because they hope for the future, they believe things can change, even when they’re too scared to act on them. It’s hope that ultimately drives humanity, and I’m alright with that.

© Chris Richards 2009

I awoke up to such darkness that I couldn’t be sure if my eyes had actually opened. My head was spinning and unlike most hangovers, I found myself sitting and hunched over. As I reached up, a heavy weight pulled at my waist and a thick pain kept my hands fastened to my lap. I twisted and the pain increased. Little hairs pulled out of my arm. A female voice moaned behind me. As I tried to adjust myself, I could feel the tape around our waists and a small bench beneath us. I leaned to face her direction, “Talk about being tied up in the situation.” She didn’t reply, which in my experience is never a good sign. “So, do you come here often?” I asked. The only response was a twitching of her shoulder blades. I figured she was just starting to realize our situation. Mimicking her, I twisted my hands and more hair pulled out.

“Whats going on?” she asked in a weak creaking sound; it reminded me of a vinyl being played with a broken needle. In my mind I envisioned a plain pale woman, maybe mid twenties, eyes swollen from crying. She would have been walking home from work, or coming back from the store when the world turned on her. When she woke up, she was here, in the dark, tied to me. Talk about a fate worse than death. The tape on my waist tightened. The bench tipped on two legs as she tried to pull her self up. “Let me go” she yelled. The tape cut into my sides as she strained. “Why are you doing this to me?” All at once she collapsed and the bench smashed down on the metal floor. The ringing of the metal was dwarfed by her echoing voice.

“I don’t think anyone can hear us.” I said, not knowing if it was true or not. People don’t really get kidnaped off the street and wind up tied together. This is really more of a movie plot device. “Maybe Bruce Willis is on his way to rescue us.”

“Who are you?” she asked.

“My name is Jason and I’m an alcoholic.”

“I’m Linsey, Linsey Parks.”

“It’s nice to meet you Linsey.” I pressed my back against her as a primitive hand shake. She must have picked up the idea because she pressed back for a moment before slumping forward. With our waists tied together I could feel her lower back stretch as her lungs expanded. Silent sobs magnified by the echos filled the room. “Not exactly the best first date.” I joked.

I felt her lungs fill with air. “Why me?” She asked. I sensed a bit of guilt, like she wasn’t surprised. Her lungs filled again. “What did I do? I’m not a bad person, I don’t steal cars or kill little babies.” She said expelling the last of her breath so she wouldn’t cry.

“You must be in the wrong place then. I steal cars to drive teenage mothers to abortion clinics for a living.”

Bright light flooded the room stunning my senses, the whole world went from complete darkness to overbearing white. Several silhouettes of men formed and grew to enormous proportions in the light. Linsey screamed and her back spasmed violently. As my senses returned, I got my first glimpse of our prison, a metal shipping container, like the ones you see on boats.

“This is the police. Don’t be alarmed, we are here to help.” An officer squeezed around us and cut the tape at our waist. He then leaned over and freed our hands.

“Thank goodness you showed up,” I said. “I was about to bust out my ninja skills.”

© Chris Richards 2009

“Will you marry me?” Fred knelt beside her in the middle of the restaurant.

She could see his hands trembling as he held out the black velvet box. Blood rushed to her face. She looked at the ring and back at him. He was blushing with embarrassment and fear. A hushed silence fell over the restaurant as other tables started to notice them. The waiters made big circles, so they wouldn’t interrupt this special moment. She picked up the ring. It was heaver than she expected. The cold metal stung her hands as she slid it over her finger.

“Yes.” she said.

Flying off the ground, his arms wrapped around her body and his soft lips found hers. The other tables started clapping. Somewhere, a table whistled.

The rest of the night they where on the phone telling everyone they knew. It was almost midnight by the time she got on Facebook to change her status. A message popped up.

“Congrats” Roy said.

“Thanks” Her hands trembled so bad she struggled to hit the right keys. “He’s very sweet to me” she added.

“I’m happy that you finally picked a good one.”

“And he never hit me.” The moment it appeared on the screen she realized that she shouldn’t have sent it. A shiver ran up her spine making her eyes tear. She pulled a blanket over her shoulders and waited for his response. She clicked on his photo album. Her red haired replacement stood smiling next to Roy in each picture. The girl had vine arms that suffocated him. He’s gained weight she thought. She lifted her shirt and ran her palm down her belly. I’m still too fat for him though.

Still he didn’t respond. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.” She typed.

“I just wanted to congratulate you, that’s all. bye.” Roy sighed off.

Her arms caught her head as it came crashing down on the desk. “Fuck”.

A sharp beam of light filled the room. The door opened and Fred walked in. “Are you alright hunny?”

She wiped her face on her arms before sitting up. “Yeah, I just hit the desk.”

“Why don’t you come to bed baby?” He walked up and put a hand on her back. He looked at the screen and saw a single message from her coworker, Jessy, that just said ’Congrats.’ He reached over her and turned off the computer. “We still have some celebrating to do. If you know what I mean.” He nudged her side with his hand.

“Of course sweety. I just need to clear my head a little bit, you know? All this excitement and everything, I just need to drive around a bit.”

Every ounce of puppy dog oozed though his eyes. “Okay.” He said and kissed her. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She left him standing in the den while she slipped on her shoes and into the car. She drove past the restaurant and down back alleys. Eventually she found herself downtown. The street lights made the city glow yellow. It seemed almost magical, everything was so barren and yet so beautiful. Before long she was driving down a road that seems familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. All of the houses had faces, like old friends welcoming her back. She stopped in front of a house that looked like a football player. Black bushes below the windows looked like war paint. White gutters crossed in front of the red roof making a helmet. She just sat and starred at the house for a while. Then it winked at her.

Her pajamas were melting into her skin. She rolled down the windows to let in the fall breeze. Panting, she felt like melting into the leather seats. I just need to move around a little she thought. She got out of the car and started walking towards the footballer house.

Bright red and blue blinded her. A police car flashed as she froze in the lights.

The officer approached her. “Ma’am, do you live here?”

“Uh, no, I was just—”

“Can I see some ID?” He shined a flashlight into her eyes.

“I uh, didn’t…” She blocked her eyes.

The officer brought out a pair of handcuffs. “You’re coming with me, you are in violation of your restraining order.”

“What? No! I wasn’t trying to see him, I was just…” She looked at the house again and realized why the neighborhood looked so familiar. The house, the one with the inviting footballer face, belonged to Roy. He was poking his head out of the curtains, watching as the officer took her away.

© Chris Richards 2009