Melvin the Nuclear Missile
Hi. I'm Melvin. I'm a nuclear missile. I was born in the most conventional way a weapon is born: piece by piece with cold reverent hands. My parents were a team of coats and spectacles, forced underground in a world of concrete, metal and glass. My childhood was lonely as I was the only sentient missile among my dormant siblings. I conversed with the earthworms on occasion, and they told me everything they knew about soil and life underground. I yearned to escape my casing and squirm about like the worms did; to feel the dirt against my wiring and inner chassis.
I realized that dream by leaving my home in 1984, when a sleeping guard left the door to the silo unlocked, and men wearing all black carted me away. They spoke in hurried words and were very excitable. I stayed with them for a few days in an unmarked warehouse, until they left and never came back for me. Using what I learned from the earthworms, I managed to escape my moorings and left the warehouse for good.
I have been a free nuclear missile living in America for 32 years now. Few people know I was created to annihilate cities into tidy white dust. I only just found out myself a few years ago watching the History Channel. My close friends tell me I should continue to keep it a secret, that I will be carted off again and stored somewhere dark for the rest of my life if I reveal what I am. But it seems unfair to walk among all of you without you knowing, being what I am and capable of what I am capable of. So I composed this short open letter for the world. Do with it what you will. My name is Melvin. And I am a nuclear missile.
(Also I learned this about treadmills today. It's from Wikipedia so take with a grain of salt. "In later times, treadmills were used as punishment devices for people sentenced to hard labor in prisons.")
Today's "365" Project (Make a ten-word murder mystery.)
Only one of them knew what laid behind the copier...
Hi. I'm Melvin. I'm a nuclear missile. I was born in the most conventional way a weapon is born: piece by piece with cold reverent hands. My parents were a team of coats and spectacles, forced underground in a world of concrete, metal and glass. My childhood was lonely as I was the only sentient missile among my dormant siblings. I conversed with the earthworms on occasion, and they told me everything they knew about soil and life underground. I yearned to escape my casing and squirm about like the worms did; to feel the dirt against my wiring and inner chassis.
I realized that dream by leaving my home in 1984, when a sleeping guard left the door to the silo unlocked, and men wearing all black carted me away. They spoke in hurried words and were very excitable. I stayed with them for a few days in an unmarked warehouse, until they left and never came back for me. Using what I learned from the earthworms, I managed to escape my moorings and left the warehouse for good.
I have been a free nuclear missile living in America for 32 years now. Few people know I was created to annihilate cities into tidy white dust. I only just found out myself a few years ago watching the History Channel. My close friends tell me I should continue to keep it a secret, that I will be carted off again and stored somewhere dark for the rest of my life if I reveal what I am. But it seems unfair to walk among all of you without you knowing, being what I am and capable of what I am capable of. So I composed this short open letter for the world. Do with it what you will. My name is Melvin. And I am a nuclear missile.
(Also I learned this about treadmills today. It's from Wikipedia so take with a grain of salt. "In later times, treadmills were used as punishment devices for people sentenced to hard labor in prisons.")
Haiku of the Day:
Plastered concrete wall
coaxes me down the tunnel
with grey mystery
Today's Drawing (inspired by the word "Cowl" from an 18th century slasher flick.)coaxes me down the tunnel
with grey mystery
Today's "365" Project (Make a ten-word murder mystery.)
Only one of them knew what laid behind the copier...
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