nice knowing y'all

--

not crippled.

::

I am no longer crippled.

And it sure is a nice feeling, folks.

Walking and running are nice things to be able to do.

When you can't do them, you realize just how nice they are.

What would I do without my legs?

I might cry without them.

::

it's november sixth:

well,

it's the sixth day of november, and i'm already listening to christmas music.

thanks, karen carpenter.

it'll be here before we know it!

that's what i'm hoping at least...

Minions, this, as you may ask, is a Wandering Path. Why is this Wandering Path capitalized, you may ask? Just cuz. Yo. Fate has spoken, and I must follow. Thus are the ways of a minstrel.

autumn

Today, I am a hipster, who likes autumn. Let's go frolic in the deceased foliage, imbibe some brewed leaves, and masticate some pumpkin-infused vittles. Too bad it's already winter where I live. I knew moving to Antarctica was a bad idea. Dang it.

Someday

Someday we'll all come to this house in the summer. We'll cook and consume absurd amounts of delicious food (low country boil: we can't wait to see you again). We'll spend entire days at the beach: getting burnt to a crisp in the southern heat, sweating in places you didn't know you could sweat, and attacking the ocean floor for sand dollars. Calvinski will thrash about in the water like a drowning chicken, and Hariel and I will see how far we can swim out before Mom gets mad. We'll read excellent children's literature on the shore and eat Goldfish. We'll go to Piggly Wiggly in hobo clothing. We'll stay up late watching great Bollywood films. Calvin and I will pretend to go running; in reality, I'll be the only one running. It'll be great. We'll come back home looking more Indian than ever, and everyone will wonder if we have to wear sunscreen. (The answer to that question: eh. If we feel like it.) It'll be wonderful. Just wait.

We love to eat. It's in our blood. No Wonderbread for us.

13.1

Today I ran 13.1 miles in honor of those wonderful siblings.

It was lovely. Painful, yes, but lovely all the same.

You should try it sometime.

It's awesome. So awesome that you might turn into a taco like I did.

All my love,

Cagney

It has been too long minions

Dear Minions,

My apologies for the delay in producing brilliant works of art. Us four siblings, talented as we are, cannot simply mass produce masterpieces. This would be an abomination, much like chocolate ice cream and onions eaten together would be. In honor of the ending of this lovely month, September, my favorite month, I have composed a little ditty for you all concerning love. Do not be afraid to bow down to your screen in awe of its greatness once you have read it; such a response is perfectly natural.

Oh am I so deeply in love with you;

My heart thumps like a man doing kung-fu!

It dances a nicely private can-can,

Even while I sit reading of Japan

When at you I look, my great big brain stops,

Like the speeders do when caught by the cops

No thoughts creep in my cutesy cranium,

'Cause you stun me like a geranium

In a smile my so happy face contorts,

Like a student does entering Hogwarts

I am manhandled by my mania,

Like Charlemagne did to Bavaria

I vie to view your vicar'ous visage!

I will not be detained by this drawbridge!

Best regards,

Winston Hughes VII

the best state of all.

there's no comparing, y'all.

Arielle Mari

You see, we have this sister named Arielle Mari. She is talented and dramatic. Creative and unpredictable. We love her despite her ever-changing hair. As we write, she is flying through the air, crushing our hopes and dreams. We started this blog in the hopes that one day we would all be reunited, writing and adventuring together. But, alas, this may not be. She may not find us in our happy little southern town until one of our numbers has already departed for a cold and dismal state. And then we shall be three, just three, yet again. And this is why we cry tears of devastation and reform. Pray for us in our time of need.

My Humble Abode

My Dear Children,

I thought I might share with you the image of my future abode, once I come into fantastic riches that I am sure await me in my future.

Your Servant,

Winston Hughes VII

To be or...

The next time you feel inclined to burst out in iambic pentameter, dear readers, take inspiration from these merry players: http://theater.nytimes.com/2011/08/15/theater/shakespeare-on-the-subway.html

Yours truly saw them perform several moons before. Stayed on the delightful 1 train a few extra stops to witness Hamlet's demise.

Theophilus

I'm Reading BBC in Hindi

Can I read Hindi you may ask.

The answer: sort of. Not really. No.

Why, then, am I reading BBC in Hindi?

The answer is beyond even me.

Regards,

Cagney

All for you, minions.

• 3 hours ago

  Chelsey

  • insolent fool
• 3 hours ago

  Calvin

  • What have I done, oh great mistress?
  • CHOMP
• 3 hours ago

  Chelsey

  • death, destruction, and despair will befall you shortly
• 3 hours ago

  Calvin

  • Well duh
  • BUT WAIT
  • A DRUM A DRUM MACBETH DOTH COME
  • Run away fool
• 3 hours ago

  Chelsey

  • you will be kitty treats for my dear cat, Lord Buster VI the Valiant.
• 3 hours ago

  Calvin

  • ahem
  • We should post this conversation on 4 wandering minstrels
• about an hour ago

  Chelsey

  • yeah you should
  • do it now

Nonsensical

I'm the strapping young man Cedric.

xoxo

Ode To A Chipmunk

As you sit on the couch

Your face like a pouch

I am reminded of that grouch

With the slouch (aka Voldemort)

Why you remind me of him I cannot say

All I know is that I want to keep you at bay

So that you cannot damage my caché

Or burn my precious bouquet

I hope that your mouth reduces in size

Otherwise you may meet an untimely demise

But perhaps this is a good disguise

In which case normalcy would be unwise

Forever your partner in crime even if you look like a chipmunk,

Cagney

A Story, A Companion to Your Evening Hot Chocolate and Mangoes

Once upon a time there was a humble prince named Winston. He was simple and salubrious and only desired to find a mate that would befit his humble lifestyle, and so, humble Winston set out on an expedition to find this one fair and true maiden. He mounted his milk white steed, Jurgis Von Grafenburger IV, and held his fist fiercely in the air as if in celebration—in celebration of what, I know not. (We can only assume it was in recognition of his humbleness.) He pulled the reins encircling Jurgis Von Grafenburger IV’s neck and began his journey with the utmost humility. As he was riding into the sunset (again, why he was leaving at sunset and not sunrise is unknown to me) he flashed a brilliant smile of pearl-like dentures and a humble glance back at the courtiers shrinking into the landscape. As he shot this humble glance their way, he fell off of Jurgis Von Grafenburger IV and suffered a massive concussion. He lay on the moist soil, unconscious yet continually humble as his family rushed to his side. He was rushed to the E.R., but, alas, nothing could be done, and humble Winston flew to Elysium.

~A little ditty from your kind friend,

Winston Hughes VII

Hello minions.

Hi little minions.

I hope you're doing really outstandingly. Today marked a momentous occasion: the creation of a collaboration of colossal capacity. This blog. Readers, we embark on this journey to satiate your blood-thirsty desire for good literary adventures. Look no further. Here, you shall discover a world filled to the brim with dazzling diamonds, rare rubies, and effervescent emeralds. We hope you enjoy this joining of the powers that be. We are beyond thrilled to share with you every inane and prosaic thought which may cross our boorish minds. That's what the great world of blogging is all about, right? In short, have a nice day and don't consume too many spirits when the New Year makes its appearance in 13043564 seconds.

In the meantime, contemplate this lovely little article before you ascend (or descend or remain in the same lateral plane).

Cordially,

Cagney