"No rock stands a chance against Michael Guerin."

TM Prompt: Chance encounters.

Thu, 01 Jun 2006 02:35:19 GMT

Describe a chance encounter that changed your life.

So we were just sitting there, minding our own business. I mean, it was just lunch, you know? How much trouble can you get into just eating lunch? It's not like you expect a life-changing event to come out of nowhere while you're chowing on a burger. But then again, people should expect that kind of crap in Roswell, I guess.

Anyway, like I said. Lunchtime, Max and I are just hanging out. I'm sure he was going on about some deep and meaningful emotional trauma. Or maybe he was just staring at Liz. I don't know. I sort of tune out when he gets that dopey look on his face. Sorry, Max. But you know you can get kind of sappy sometimes.

Where was I? Oh, yeah. Lunch. It was a really good burger. The Crashdown does good food. Better, when I was cooking there, but hey, everyone has to move on, sometime. I wasn't planning on being a short-order cook forever, you know. I wasn't actually planning on sticking around that long. But I digress yet again.

So. Long story short. Eating lunch. Crazy alien chasing freaks decide to shoot the place up. Max's one true crush gets shot and of course hero-boy can't leave well enough alone. He heals her, and BANG! There you have it. My life wasn't the same after that.

Who woulda thought lunch could be so damned risky?

TM Prompt: What was/is your childhood ambition?

Sat, 29 Apr 2006 02:29:37 GMT

"That's my hat!" Michael reached for the dilapidated, crumpled cowboy hat that two older boys were holding over their heads. They tossed it back and forth, well out of Michael's ten year old reach. "If you don't give it back, I'll make you wish you had!"

They just laughed at him, and tossed the hat again. The littler boy didn't bother to say anything more. He didn't have to. He set his jaw and launched himself at one of the boys, fists flying. He ignored the shouts and screams of Max and Isabel, yelling at him to let the bullies just have the hat, they'd get him a new one.

Later on, in the school principal's office, three boys sat sullen and bruised. There were black eyes and split lips, but only one satisfied, defiant smirk peered out from under a cowboy hat. When the principal asked Michael why he was grinning, Michael just shrugged. "Because. The sheriff always wins in the end." And he gave the man a cocky tip of his hat.

TM Prompt: Father

Tue, 07 Mar 2006 17:34:43 GMT

Write about your father.

My epitaph for Hank Guerin. Now there's a real prince among men.

He was a pillar of the community. Everyone looked up to him for his leadership in such things as swilling down beer and hitting on girls half his age. Hank also excelled at such things as running up debt, skipping out on work and disappearing for days at a time when the rent was due.

The best thing about Hank, though, was his uncanny ability to land a fist. He was almost as good with a boot to the ribs, but those fists, man. They were legendary. Their loss is truly mourned. (Or not.)

I was most proud on those occasions when one of the girls from school came over. Didn't happen all that often, but when it did? Hank was always in rare form. I've never seen anyone able to undress a person with his eyes like Hank did. He did have a way with women.

It's really a shame that Hank disappeared like he did. Not a day goes by that I don't wish I could have Hank back just for a day or two. I think I've learned so many new ways I could repay him for everything he did to for me.

Fortunately, I carry those memories with me, and I know exactly the kind of parent I will be. Someday. Maybe.

Noah turns four!

Wed, 15 Feb 2006 03:52:36 GMT

A person's fourth birthday is apparently a very big deal, and as such, Michael, Keelia and Midir decide that taking Noah to Dave and Busters is a very good idea. They'd given thought to taking him to Chuckee Cheese's, but in the end it's decided that all the animatronics might give the little boy ideas, and having life-sized rats suddenly following them home... well, the trauma doesn't really bear thinking about.

A few phone calls later (to just about anyone Michael, Keelia and Midir might know, along with a few people they don't), and everyone is invited to join them for an afternoon of four year-old fun. Kids, dogs, cats, and other life-forms are all welcome, as long as violence is kept to a minimum.

Noah is sitting at the table, bouncing with barely reined in excitement when people start to arrive.

TM Prompt: Failure

Tue, 07 Feb 2006 19:24:06 GMT

Describe your worst failure.

What the hell? Do you think I've got all day to spend on a topic like this?

I'm a screw-up. It's my specialty. You don't go around asking a brain surgeon to describe his greatest slice with his scalpel, do you? No, I didn't think so. It's just not done.

But I suppose since you asked, I could at least give it a shot.

I'd say my worst failure was graduation. I mean, I was set to leave. I'd even avoided most of those stupid emotional good-byes and crap. I was so out of there.

But no, of course I couldn't just do it, could I? No, because that would have been the successful thing to do. No, your favorite chump Michael had to jump on his bike and ride into the graduation ceremony with... okay, well, not really with guns blazing. Lights blazing, definitely, but no guns.

And I can't even say I got the girl in the end, like a good hero. I got Max on the back of my bike. That was sort of the plan, if you could really call it a plan. I just knew he was going to do something disgustingly noble and self-sacrificing, so I had to go and screw up a perfectly good exit plan and save his ass.

Yeah, I could be on a beach somewhere drinking fruity boat drinks with those little umbrellas, but no. What a complete and utter failure.

Thanks for bringing up such a lovely subject. Bastards.

Tue, 07 Feb 2006 18:43:20 GMT

I live in a world where people riot and set fire to buildings over a cartoon.

Where's my fucking spaceship? I want out.

Fri, 20 Jan 2006 02:29:52 GMT

What in gay hell...?

Sun, 15 Jan 2006 07:39:56 GMT

Finally.

This is just the thing I've been looking for.

Although, I'm not sure I'm really stationed here as much as stranded here... but it's close enough.

TM Prompt: Letters Redux

Sun, 08 Jan 2006 03:34:40 GMT

Write a letter to anyone about anything. Say what you have always wanted to say but have been afraid to.

Dear J. Edgar Hoover (or whoever is in charge of the FBI these days),

Okay. Here's the deal, pal. Lay off the alien crap. We're here, we're there, we're everywhere. Deal, dude.

And while we're on the subject, why don't you quit sending all those MIBs after us? That shit really gets annoying, I gotta tell ya. I mean, it was kinda cool when it was the blonde with the career day fetish? But it got old pretty much right after that. Also? Killing your own agents? Tacky, man, tacky. You totally need to read Miss Manners or something.

As long as I've got your attention, could you clear up a few things for me? I have a list.

Where are they now?

Elvis
Jimmy Hoffa
The Lindbergh Baby
Amelia Earhart
Greg Evigan

... Crap. I had more. I'll forward you the full list when I find where I wrote it down. And dude? Don't even think about blaming it on aliens. I know the truth about that shit, you know. Go back and read the first paragraph.

Anyway. Mostly I just wanted to say ease up on that alien-hunting crap. I just want to hang out, drink a few beers, eat a couple of pizzas and get laid once in a while. I'm not here to take over the world or any of that conspiracy type stuff. I'm really not that ambitious.

Sincerely,

Michael S. Guerin
Formerly of Roswell, New Mexico

PS. I heard all about that cross-dressing thing you've got going on. A little black dress goes with anything, and no white after Labor Day. That's all you gotta know.

Peace out.

Fri, 06 Jan 2006 00:49:37 GMT

*amused*

Mindless drone?

Yeah, I guess I can see that.

... They should just fuck and be done with it. She always was easier to take post-orgasm.

Wait. Maybe that was post-my-orgasm.

LJ fairy Elf!

Fri, 16 Dec 2005 18:40:49 GMT

A very sincere and grateful thank you to the LJ ~~fairy~~ Elf who bought Michael paid journal time and extra user pictures. It was very thoughtful and much appreciated.

Happy holidays to you!

Meme stolen from orlandomuse. The other crap is all my own.

Tue, 06 Dec 2005 22:43:11 GMT

You will drink too much gin. Not the worst way to
die, but you won't remember too much of your
life. Hey, at least you made some people laugh!

What horrible Edward Gorey Death will you die?
brought to you by Quizilla

I make people laugh?

That's new.

My favorite joke.

A nun, a priest and a rabbi walked into a bar. The bartender says "What's this, some kind of joke?"

Hey, the meme said I was funny, not me. Where's the gin?

TM Prompt: Letters

Thu, 01 Dec 2005 16:16:46 GMT

Dear funny looking kid,

Just a couple of things you need to know.

One, when you see the lights in the desert, run. It's not going to make sense for a while, but... You aren't going to be able to do the things you gotta do if you end up in a nice comfy house like your friends. It'll suck, but deal with it. You can do it.

Pick the blue blankie. I'm just sayin'.

Don't kill Hank when you're thirteen. It's tempting, and you'll be standing there while he's passed out and you'll have the power to do it... but don't. The arm will heal and the rest of the crap won't last forever, but you can't afford to go to jail.

Don't trust Tess and do trust Kyle, Alex and Valenti. Okay, maybe Maria and Liz, too, but that's up to you, dude. Yeah, I know you won't listen to me about that, but you'll save yourself a lot of grief. Okay, I knew that wouldn't convince you, either.

Stay in school. It'll keep you out of trouble. Mostly.

Learn to do that thing with your tongue when Karen Hooper wants to teach you in the seventh grade. I mean, you'll get a chance to learn it again in ninth grade, but why waste all that time? And practice. Every chance you get.

Good luck, kid. It's a crap life, but you'll do okay.

Trust me. I've been there.

Michael

Mon, 21 Nov 2005 15:15:59 GMT

Hello, Caligula.

I'm just sayin'.

Tue, 15 Nov 2005 15:48:09 GMT

You're so vain.

You probly think this post is about you.

You're so vain...

You probly think this post is about you, don't you.

Don't you!?

Name it.

Mon, 14 Nov 2005 20:53:26 GMT

Okay. So.

Let's play a rousing game of Name That Cat.

View Poll: Name That Cat

Mon, 14 Nov 2005 17:02:56 GMT

Michael

What Roswell Character Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

You're Michael Guerin.
"I can't get indebted to anyone, and I can't
get entangled. I got to be a stone wall, and
when I'm around you sometimes... I don't feel
like a stone wall anymore."

Which Roswell Character is Most Like You?
brought to you by Quizilla

In other news...

I need to make that poll. Noah just called the cat "Here Kitty".

"Gunko Miko, can Here Kitty come play outside with me?"

*sigh*

Right. Naming this cat.

Tell me a secret...

Sat, 12 Nov 2005 20:18:20 GMT

I'm bored.

Tell me a secret. The more twisted, the better.

Anon, if you wish, IP logging is off.

Ready, set... go.

Sat, 12 Nov 2005 20:15:27 GMT

Happy birthday, Holden.

*hands over deformed balloon animals*

TM Prompt: Control.

Fri, 11 Nov 2005 01:38:30 GMT

Anger isn't by any means the hardest emotion for Michael to control. The reason is simple. He never tries to control it. When Michael is pissed, anyone can see it. It is written on his face, in every rigid line of his body. It radiates from him, with every small gesture, every pointed glare, every sarcastic word. Nope. Anger isn't hard to control.

Neither is frustration. That one is easy, too. The reason is much the same. Michael never lets frustration build to the point of explosive release. This is probably because Michael has no patience. Everything is a source of frustration to him, and more often than not, he'll just do something irresponsible and rash, just as a release.

The one Michael always has trouble with is hurt. Hurt always ends up as pity, down one path or another, and that Michael can't deal with. It's hurt and emotional pain that always makes Michael lose control. His method for dealing with his loss of control is always the same.

Flee. Run. Put as much distance as possible between himself and the source of his pain. He'll be the first to admit that his powers sometimes get a little out of control as well. And that is just another excuse, another way of rationalizing always running away. They told him once that it didn't matter where he went, how far he ran, they'd always be there with him. They said that whether he believed it or not, he always belonged to them.

And in the end, Michael had had to believe them. Because no matter how many times he'd lost control, no matter how many times he had tried to leave, he had always came back, and they'd always been there to take him back, no questions asked.

It's a pattern for him now. Sometimes it takes a while for people to learn the pattern, to understand it. But for Michael, loss of control - running - isn't the hard part. The hard part is hoping that no matter how far he goes, or how long he's gone, he'll still belong when he comes back.

Wed, 09 Nov 2005 20:39:49 GMT

Foolish humans.

Tue, 08 Nov 2005 17:24:56 GMT

Have you ever woke up, and instantly gone "Holy shit, what did I do?"

Only to be followed a moment later by "Oh wait, that wasn't me. Thank god..."?

... Yeah, me either.

I think that was someone else. Thank god.

Tue, 08 Nov 2005 01:53:47 GMT

Sorcerous Evil (I'm sorry that the picture is
messed up) - "Enchanting and full of
mystique you are beautiful but lethal. Without
even lifting a finger you can decimate
thousands of humans. You are the epitomy of
total annihilation, but despite all that you
can be quite charming in your own way."

What type of evil being are you inside?
brought to you by Quizilla

Who's surprised? Go on. Raise your hands.

Sun, 06 Nov 2005 21:41:54 GMT

Was not. Was.

Was, not Was.

Would.

Not.

Would.

Not.

Would.

So, so confused.

Fri, 04 Nov 2005 22:32:44 GMT

Okay. This is getting a little ridiculous.

I need a name for this kitten. I can't just call her kitty anymore. It's silly.

I mean, okay. So I was a little surprised to get a kitten? And so I wasn't really thinking about names. But it's been almost a month. She needs a name.

No, not Cheesy, not Cakey. (Jon, don't make me smack you.)

Where are all the insane Roman empresses when you need a good name?

~~I mean, Caligula. Now there's a name.~~

Suggestions?