Bryan Timothy Mitchell's Blog

Last month, I felt inspired to write something that could benefit the whole entire world. You see, all my life people have let me in on a secret about themselves. People I know, even total strangers, chose me, entrusted me, with personal information pertaining to a deep psychological problem of theirs, and unbeknownst to them, they all suffer from the very same thing. It’s a sign, really. It’s as if society has cried out to me, specifically, for help, and I’ve stood by for far too long. But not any longer, ladies and gentlemen, yours truly is stepping up to the plate.

I am about to take on an epidemic that is plaguing our society. It affects more than ninety-nine percent of people, which means that more than likely you need my help. Yes, you may be one of the many people who “can’t complain”.

Quite a problem if you think about it. These poor folks could get run over by a car and wouldn’t be able to voice their frustration. A piano could fall on top of them, and they wouldn’t have a say. We all know that stress is a killer in this day and age, but few seem to understand that one of the best ways to alleviate it is to complain. Yeah, sure you’re stressing someone else out with your drama, but hey, you’ll feel better for it in the end. So, moving forward, I, Bryan Timothy Mitchell, will put on my therapist hat and provide special insights that’ll help society overcome the inability to complain.

Some of you may wonder what makes me qualified to provide such care. I’d say that would be a fair question, but if you re-read that sentence there is no question mark there. Go back and check if you like. I’ll wait. It’s not like I have anything else better to do. (That is what I call stark sarcasm, and you can do it too. I promise with a little practice we’ll get you there.)

Needless to say, I am more than willing to oblige in presenting my credentials in this subject matter. First off, everyone came to me with this information. I asked how they were doing, and they told me very plainly “Can’t complain.” And you know what? My heart truly goes out to them. It’s awful, really. Sure, there are other problems out there. Some people are “Livin’ the dream”, but we’ll get to those weirdos later, basically all they need anyway is a healthy dose of pessimism, but I solve the world’s problem one at a time. (That folks is subtle sarcasm, and you can learn to do it too, just stick around.)

But being the bearer of this information isn’t the only credential I have. I’m also the Founder of the Complainers” Expression & Organization Network, aka ComE ON! And yes, I did just make that up, but still, I’m qualified, and I’ll prove it in the next paragraph or whatever it is… List maybe? Can you believe I got a degree in English and I don’t know if this next block of words is a paragraph or not. (See how easy it is, friends? Stick with me and I’ll have you complaining like a champ in no time.)

As a US Army veteran, I was a well-known complainer amongst my peers and most certainly the chain of command, providing small complaints to even the last person who’d ever want to hear them. Complaints such as: “This sucks.” “My feet hurt.” “Oh, my back!” “Why are we doing this?”

Those are always helpful to dish out any ole time. But folks, I didn’t hold myself to only small complaints when I was a soldier. Oh no! I made bigger ones all throughout my military career. A handful that come to mind are as follows: “For goodness’ sake, if I have to tell you how to polish a boot one more time, you’re going to be doing push-ups until my arms are tired!” “They call this rubber-tasting lump of garbage chicken?” “Whatcha mean I have to wax the floor? It’s already shinier than the top of your big head. Whatcha mean extra duty? It was only an observation!” “Suede boots? We can’t polish suede boots. Dog-on soldiers won’t have anything to do on their spare time if they can’t polish their boots!”

Needless to say, I can help these poor souls, so if you or someone you know is struggling to complain, do not worry. Help is on the way. Wanna leave a comment, then too bad! I don’t wanna hear it, I mean read it.

The post Can’t Complain? We’re Here to Help. appeared first on Bryan Timothy Mitchell.

Why a Security Guard Chased Me at the Mountain of Terror

You may ask, “What is a good boy like me doing at the Mountain of Terror?”

Well, it was a cool evening in October, and through an internet radio station, I had won tickets to attend a haunted house attraction called (big echoey voice) the Mountain of Terror. When the date had finally arrived, my wife and I, along with several of my misfit pals, piled into my car and drove deep into the forest.

As we neared it, we came upon a dirt road with deep trenches and tall pines lining either side. It was so foreboding. I should’ve been scared, especially now that dusk was near. Soon, strange people in makeup, costumes and masks (OH MY) would do their best to frighten me. I wasn’t the least bit frightened unfortunately. At the time, I felt there was no possible way these persons could scare me because not only was I a US Army Veteran, but I was also a veteran of working at haunted house attractions when I was in high school. (“Hi, Spookywoods! Still love you, guys.”)

I remember having so much fun scaring people, which was why I would do my best to make them think I was the biggest fraidy cat they’d ever seen. Yes, those who were hoping beyond hope to scare somebody, anybody, would get their wish from me that night, especially with the crew that joined me; they too were veterans of haunted house attractions. Not only were we going to have ourselves a good time, so were those who worked there. Not everyone though I guess. We’ll get to the security guard later.

I think the only one who didn’t run as cowardly as a particular lion, who lived along a particular yellow brick road, was my wife. I believe she was amused and possibly wondered what on earth would she have to deal with the many years to come. After all, out of all of us, I was the worst and I’ll tell you why.

Near the end of the extremely scary haunted house was a dreadful maze full of nightmare-inducing scares and props. Should you endure it, you’ll find a slide and finally escape the (big echoey voice) Mountain of Terror! My friends found the slides rather easily, but not me. I was so overwhelmed with fear that I kept fleeing back the way I had come. Sometimes I’d find myself at one of the very few dead ends, clawing at the wall begging for someone to help me. If I remember right, I think the guy with the chainsaw or maybe the axe kept telling me where I’d find the exit, but what can I say? (shrug) You’re Welcome!

At some point, my wife was no longer amused, but I couldn’t just break character. I’d come this far being the biggest fraidy cat this place had ever seen, and there was no way on earth I was going to give up on that now. My friends were all laughing at me as I bravely struggled through the simple maze. It took a long while but my wife eventually dragged me toward the correct path that led to our escape. At the time, I was frozen with fear because someone in a werewolf costume (it may have been a scary clown but same difference) was slowly approaching. I pretended to try and escape my wife’s grip and flee back toward the entrance but thankfully my wife, my hero, finally, saved me.

Just before going down the slide I remember getting a strange look from someone who worked there. She made sure that people went down the slide safely. Good call, Mountain of Terror safety officer. Everything about the look on her face told me, they had bought my act, hook, line, and sinker. I missed my calling as an actor. We all slid down the slide in very good spirits. Although none of us were really scared, we had a blast pretending. Attendance was low at that particular time, so in a way it was like our own gigantic funhouse. No doubt, the actors were ready to get more scares after our shenanigans.

“But Bryan what about the security guard.”

(This is where the story begins. Don’t worry it’ll be short.)

On our way back to the car, a tall and very fit security guard stood with a walkie talkie, flashlight, and who knows what else on his utility belt. He was what I would call “well-prepared”. He called to us while we were leaving.

“Hey when you pull out be sure to turn left,” he pointed to the very obvious exit where no cars were coming in. There was also a large wooden sign with EXIT spray-painted in black, and it was accompanied by a floodlight which casted brilliant light on its surface. Good job traffic controller person, even passing airplanes would know which way to go from here. “If you don’t turn left,” he continued. “you’ll head straight to the traffic coming in. OK? So, be sure to turn left.”

Although the exit was obvious, there was a flaw in his directions. There were grass lots that had to turn right in order to reach the exit. My car just happened to be in one of those lots. Thank goodness.

“I’m parked over there,” I pointed to the lot, and because I’m a bit of a smart aleck, I asked, “Do I still turn left to leave?”

That flustered the well-prepared security guard a great deal. “No. No. You’ll turn right. Just be sure you go that way.” He pointed toward the exit again. “Otherwise you’ll run into traffic and people will have trouble getting in, and you’ll have to turn around.”

I nodded and smiled a mischievous smile, but I think the security guard believed it was a smile that only came from those who were perpetually confused.

“OK. I think I got it.” I was ready to put it at rest and enjoy the rest of my evening but…

This security guard made a critical mistake, giving me an idea. A horrible, wonderful idea.

“Just be sure to turn right,” he said as we walked away.

That was it. His fate was sealed and I couldn’t be happier. From there, I assured him I would find the exit, and I, my wife, and band of misfit friends headed to the car. I let them know right away that I had no plans at all to turn right. This little piggy was going to turn left all the way home.

Because he was watching us I did turn right out of my parking spot which sent me away from the road. That was just to sell him the thought that I was likely the most lost person he’d ever encountered. Considering my Oscar-winning performance in the maze, it was imperative that I remained in character after all. So, after turning right a couple more times, I reached the actual road that would send me to either the entrance or the exit. It was the point of no return, and I did what I had to do. I turned left.

My friends and my wife were chuckling a great deal about this time. I’m a really responsible driver, so I kept my eyes on the road, but a very reliable source, a misfit friend of mine, managed to let me know between fits of laughter that the well-prepared and possibly very flustered security guard was sprinting toward us. Oh dear, I must’ve turned the wrong way.

Mission accomplished. It felt good knowing I could still scare the pants off people. I put the car in reverse, and after a few very professional turns of the steering wheel, we were heading toward the entrance, I mean exit, you know, toward the big wooden sign, the one with those strange markings on it. And a part of me still thinks that a very well-meaning and well-prepared security guard was reconsidering his career choices behind us.

Now could you imagine what kind of person I’d be if I had written that final love letter back in the second grade? If you’re unfamiliar with that story, the link is below. I’ll share more of these true tales in the weeks, months, years ahead. Until next time, be sure to check under your bed for strange people who are waiting to get that spine-tingling scream out of you. AGHHHHH! And no, the closet door isn’t the exit.

Love Letters Nearly Turned Me Into A Supervillain

The post Why a Security Guard Chased Me at the Mountain of Terror appeared first on Bryan Timothy Mitchell.

The Things That Which I Loathe is Littered Within

May this cursed collection forever retain these wretched things.
These foul amalgamations, least wanted of my thoughts.
This horrid trough of my mind’s annihilation is most unworthy.
Warning: this content has not been through psychiatric evaluation.

Proceed with caution

I share these burdens not in vain,
These loathsome things must be known.
Through sharp discourse galvanized with pointed emphasis
Their foul creations shall be exposed so all may see, and…
The whole family can enjoy this knowledge for free

This Thing That Which I Loathe is a Bird

Birds, always, in all ways, will be worthy of worst.
Opinions may vary, they have their advocates, pfft!
But they keep loiterin’ in the yard.
Who do they think they are, messin’ around here?

I mean that literally

Bunch of good for nuthin’ loafers,
Do they not have somewhere else better to be?
They hop, squawk, and flap around like they do!
Dropping their ugly bullseye patterns wherever they choose.
Available for your viewing pleasure on a nearby mailbox.

This Thing That Which I Loathe is Losing the Keys

They’re not in here. or in there.
A U2 song blares in my head
I check the fridge, but why?
Time to check my pockets for the thirty-third time.What was I looking for again?

That’s right! My keys!
They’re not in the couch.
Not on the roof or under the porch
Oh, here they are. In my hand.
Now what was I going to do again?

The post Things in Which I Loathe appeared first on Bryan Timothy Mitchell.

In late July, I attended Realm Makers 2025 in Grand Rapids, Michigan, which happens to be close to where Descendant Publishing calls home. My wife and I kicked things off by joining Troy and Stacy Hooker at a cookout with other authors. We had a great time catching up with other author friends whom we’ve known for years, and meeting new faces for the first time. I also got the opportunity to meet my editor, Dawn Carter, along with her husband and kids in person. I love all these folks. They’re good people.

A lot of the contributors to the Allies of Majesty Chronicles: Volume 1 were there. I recently received my copy in the mail. On August 14th, it will be available on Amazon. I contributed a novelette, called Melodiel’s Rhapsody. All the works in this anthology is based on an RPG Anthony Diastello called Allies of Majesty, which is based on the works of Michael Heiser. If you’re unsure what that is, try searching for The Unseen Realm. Seeing the excitement of all the contributors to this work and their loved ones was a true pleasure. Now, I should talk about the conference!

This year’s Realm Makers included an expo for fans for the first time. There was a massive assortment of Christian creatives, authors, publishers, game designers, artists, animators, and more! It was nice to visit the expo, but my focus was on the sessions that Realm Makers had for writers. While I’ve written a couple of novels (and a noveletta), I still have much to learn and plenty of reminders needed to help me become the best writer I can be. So attending classes by Stephen James and Donald Maas was the highlight of my time at Realm Makers. I got the opportunity to introduce Donald Maas for his classes, with help from Stephanie Warner, a fellow author and podcaster. We had a lot of fun with that and I believe Donald did as well. My awesome editor and friend, Dawn, was also in attendance for all of these classes.

Other classes were happening at the same time, but I can revisit those through the Realm Makers website for the rest of the year. Essentially, I won’t miss anything. For the awards banquet I dressed up as Jareth from Labyrinth. That was a first for me. There were so many familiar and new faces at the conference and catching up with everyone as well as meeting new friends was one of my biggest priorities. I pitched Iffy Eats Monsters for Breakfast to a Penguin Random House editor, while she enjoyed the story, I don’t have a literary agent, so I put the cart before the horse with that one. Donald Maas stated I could query him, so we’ll see how that works out. I’ve queried over a dozen agents since Realm Makers. It’s hard to get representation. Literary agents have to be highly selective. Traditional publishers want what they want, and even if an agent appreciates your work and your accomplishments, they may have to pass on it.

If agents can’t take you on it isn’t the end of the world. A smaller house, such as Descendant Publishing, or self publication may be the way to go. If Iffy doesn’t match up with any literary agents right now, going either of those routes allows Iffy to come out earlier, but there would be more costs associated with it. I would have to set up a Kickstarter campaign to make it happen, which would be a lot of fun. I’ll give agents some time to decide if I’m a good fit for them before deciding.

Honestly, I think a Kickstarter would be a real fun thing to do. I could add all kinds of perks. Special editions of Infernal Fall and Almost Paradise. Meet and greets. I could do critiques with fellow authors. Create Iffy plushies as add-ons. All sorts of stretch goals could be added. And as exciting as it all is, it’ll require some planning. I’ll keep you posted in my Newsletter.

Back to Realm Makers. I got to meet Brent Weeks, an awesome author who was really cool to chat with. Sarah Arthur was a blast. Turns out she and her husband are Duke fans like my wife and me. We got a kick out of that. I enjoyed getting to meet all the keynote speakers and catching up with the faculty members of Realm Makers. They are a special group of people for sure. There was a church service on the final day, which fell on Sunday. Bradley Caffee, another talented author and friend, led the sermon. The service was truly special, and the message resonated. My dear friend, Sophia Hansen, was my nearest neighbor for that.

I look forward to future Realm Maker Conferences. If you’d like to know what Realm Makers is up to and be notified when Christian speculative fiction writers have new releases, you can go to Realmmakers.com and sign up for their free monthly newsletter and more. If you join the Realmsphere, be sure to say hello.

The post Why I love Realm Makers appeared first on Bryan Timothy Mitchell.

In late July, I attended Realm Makers 2025 in Grand Rapids, Michigan, which happens to be close to where Descendant Publishing calls home. My wife and I went to their neck of the woods, about a 20-minute drive, to enjoy a cookout with them and some fellow author friends of mine. I also got the opportunity to meet my editor, Dawn Carter, along with her husband and kids. I could go on for a very long time about everyone who was there, but I have too much to share. I’ll say that I value them all a great deal. They’re good people. I know there are a lot of good people out there, but when you only get so many opportunities to hang out with dear friends who live hundreds, if not thousands of miles away, it’s a real pleasure when you do.

A lot of the contributors to the Allies of Majesty Chronicles: Volume 1 were there. I recently received my copy in the mail. On August 14th, it will be available on Amazon. I wrote what would be considered a novelette, and it’s called Melodiel’s Rhapsody. It ended up being longer than I intended, but it was fun to write. Anthony Diastello created an RPG, Allies of Majesty, based on the works of Michael Heiser. If you’re unsure what that is, try searching for The Unseen Realm in a browser of your choice. Seeing the excitement of all the contributors to this work and their loved ones was cool. There were others there whom I’ve known for a while, and others I met for the first time. So that was my kickoff to a great conference.

This year’s Realm Makers also included an expo for fans. There was a massive assortment of Christian creatives who were authors, publishers, game designers, artists, and a lot more. It was nice to visit the expo, but my focus was on the sessions that Realm Makers had for writers. While I’ve written a couple of novels (and a noveletta), I still have much to learn and plenty of reminders needed to help me become the best writer I can be. So attending classes by Stephen James and Donald Maas was the highlight of my time at Realm Makers. I got the opportunity to introduce Donald Maas for his classes, which is super cool. I had a lot of fun with that. My awesome editor and friend, Dawn, also joined those classes.

Other classes were happening at the same time, but I can revisit those through the Realm Makers website for the rest of the year. Essentially, I won’t miss anything. There was the awards banquet where I dressed up as Jareth from Labyrinth. That was a first for me. I also got to hang out with many author friends who weren’t at the cookout on my first night there. Catching up with everyone was truly the highlight of the conference for me. I pitched Iffy Eats Monsters for Breakfast to a Penguin Random House editor, while she enjoyed the story, I don’t have a literary agent, so I put the cart before the horse with that one. Donald Maas stated I could query him, so we’ll see how that works out. I’ve queried over a dozen agents since leaving Realm Makers, but I don’t believe I’ll get anyone to represent me.

Literary agents are highly selective, and while I’m an award-winning author, that doesn’t mean I’m a fit for every agent out there. Plus, my previous works are different from Iffy Eats Monsters for Breakfast. While I’ll remain hopeful, I’m always going to be realistic when it comes to this. Without an agent and going with a smaller publishing house, Iffy can come out earlier, but there would be more costs associated with it as well. I would have to set up a Kickstarter campaign to make it happen. I’ll give agents some time to decide if I’m a good fit for them before I decide on that.

Honestly, I think a Kickstarter would be a real fun thing to do. I could add all kinds of perks. Special editions of Infernal Fall and Almost Paradise. Meet and greets. I could do critiques with fellow authors. Create Iffy plushies as add-ons. All sorts of stretch goals could be added. And as exciting as it all is, it’ll require some planning. I’ll keep you posted in my Newsletter.

Back to Realm Makers. I got to meet Brent Weeks, an awesome author who was really cool to chat with. Sarah Arthur was a blast. Turns out she and her husband are Duke fans like my wife and me. We got a kick out of that. I enjoyed getting to meet the keynote speakers and catching up with the faculty members of Realm Makers. They are a special group of people for sure. There was a church service on the final day, which fell on Sunday. Bradley Caffee, another talented author and friend, led the sermon. The service was really beautiful, and the message resonated.

I look forward to future Realm Maker Conferences. If you’d like to know what Realm Makers is up to and be notified when Christian speculative fiction writers have new releases, you can go to Realmmakers.com and sign up for their free monthly newsletter and more. If you choose to join the Realmsphere, be sure to say hello to me.

The post Why I love Realm Makers. appeared first on Bryan Timothy Mitchell.

It has been some time since my last release, Almost Paradise. I have been working on two very different projects since that time. Iffy Eats Monsters for Breakfast will be my first middle grade story. It is a spinoff from the Infernal Fall Series. I’ll talk more about that at another time. The other story I’ve worked on is Melodiel’s Rhapsody which is a short story to be included in the Allies of Majesty Chronicles Vol 1.

I’ve never worked on a story quite like this one. Allies of Majesty is an RPG where angels and demons are at war in the unseen realm. There are a line of other authors included for this anthology, and the artwork looks amazing. So check it out if you like, and although the Kickstarter campaign is over, you can still support it if you want. Click the image below to view it if you want more details.

About Melodiel’s Rhapsody… The title came before the story did. In the line of angels and demons, you have warriors, minstrels, and ministers, which could be a mix of two or even three. I thought a warrior-minstrel could prove interesting. So I created the character Melodiel, who is named after melody. He’s a leader of two other warriors in this short story, Urimiel and Sersimi. I have no idea how I came up with their names, but I’ve grown to appreciate them.

The story takes place in an unnamed town in Appalachia, and a lot is going on. My initial thought was to compose the entire story as a song, and while I do have some music in here, this is, for the most part, a story written in prose. It took some time to fit the story within the bounds of the Allies of Majesty world, but with some great collaboration with Anthony Diastello, it came together quite nicely. He was even nice enough to let me break some rules, which is great because I’m a habitual rulebreaker at heart. And while it may be a short story, there are chills, thrills, comedy, and a lot of adventure in this thing.

The plan is to release this book in time for Realm Makers 2025, which is in July. At the time of writing this, it’s only two months away. I wish him well on that. Although I’m finished with this particular story, I will be cheering for PureFun Media to get this book ready in time. I’ll let you know when it debuts, and when I have permission to share an excerpt from the story, I’ll update this post.

The post The Allies of Majesty Chronicles Vol 1: Melodiel’s Rhapsody appeared first on Bryan Timothy Mitchell.

Pretty Little Kitty Kitties

Pretty Little Kitty Kitties are one of my favorite things.
When they meow they are trying to sing.
Do you like pretty little kitty kitties as much as I do?
Golly Gee, I sure hope so.
A big big rainbow goes over my house, way way over my house
When a pretty little kitty kitty chases a mouse, a little little mouse.
That’s why I will have plenty of yarn and cheese
So that my pretty little kitty kitties are happy little kitty kitties.

Super Mario Bros

Super Mario Brothers are one of my favorite things.
They hit their head on bricks while running.
Do you like Super Mario Brothers as much as I do?
Golly Gee, I sure hope so.
A firepower flower pops out of a block, a questionable block.
Super Mario brothers throw fiery rocks, fireball rocks!
That’s why I eat plenty of spaghetti and meatballs
So Mario and Luigi can save the princess.

Billy’s Blanket

Billy’s blanket is one of my favorite things.
He got it as a gift from a friend named Audrey.
Do you like Billy’s blanket as much as I do?
Golly Gee, I sure doubt so.
Billy holds his blanket like Linus holds his.
Yeah, sure, I want it, but it is what it is.
That’s why my air conditioner has frozen over,
Because when Billy happens by the blanket is remembered.

Reruns on TV

Reruns on TV are one of my favorite things.
I watch them over and over. It’s never-ending.
Do you like reruns on TV as much as I do?
Golly Gee, it’s either that or some game show.
Reliving scenes with characters we know.
Suffering through commercials while holding the remote.
Laugh tracks and theme songs are catchy and amusing.
I can’t help but smile, even while I’m drooling.

Pink and Purple Hair

Pink and purple hair is one of my favorite things.
It kind of looks like stringy cotton candy.
Do you like pink and purple hair as much as I do?
Golly Gee, it’s nice but gets caught in your throat.
Grape juice and lemonade have more sugar than I can handle
Hair sure does stink when you singe it with a candle.
That’s why it’s better not to set your hair on fire,
But if you do, buy a wig and consider the colors I admire.

Awkward Goodbyes

Awkward Goodbyes are one of my favorite things.
The conversation ends but no one can leave.
Do you like Awkward Goodbyes as much as I do?
Golly Gee won’t you look at the time,
I gotta get going but it was nice chatting.
Maybe another day or whatever, we can chill.
Brrr… Ha! Ha! Get it? Funny right? Anyway—Bye!?

Staring Deep into the Void of Space

Staring deep into the void of space is one of my favorite things.
I walked into a room but forgot why—how strange.
Do you like staring deep into the void of space as much as I do?
Golly Gee… What were we talking about?
Sorry, I zoned out there for a moment or two
I was thinking about something but don’t ask what. I have no clue.
It mustn’t have been too important, otherwise I’d remember.
But somewhere in the night sky, my ideas drift like embers.

The post My Favorite Things appeared first on Bryan Timothy Mitchell.

Reruns on TV are one of my favorite things.
I watch them over and over. It’s never-ending.
Do you like reruns on TV as much as I do?
Golly Gee, it’s either that or some game show.
Reliving scenes with characters we know.
Suffering through commercials while holding the remote.
Laugh tracks and theme songs are catchy and amusing.
I can’t help but smile, even while I’m drooling.

The post Reruns on TV appeared first on Bryan Timothy Mitchell.

Love Letters Nearly Turned Me Into A Supervillain

Today, I want to tell a true story, which will give you insight into who I am. It may totally change how you perceive me, for better or worse, and I may create a series of true stories about me, depending on how it goes, but allow me to move on with this particular little diddy.

When I was in the second grade, four boys bullied me. By “bullied” I mean they beat me up. Usually, it was on the playground. I had to learn to stay where the teacher could see me. That was all I could do at eight years old. The teacher didn’t help me. She was the meanest teacher I ever had (more on that later). If I told her, I would get in trouble. This school had a funny definition of what tattling was. If you told on anybody for anything, you got in trouble.

Now if you feel sorry for me, don’t, because what I did to get back at those kids was one of the most sinister things I’ve ever done. It was clever, but I don’t condone my brilliantly wicked scheme that undoubtedly scarred these poor bullies for a time. Here’s the thing. While I had a couple of friends, I knew I couldn’t tell them what I was going to do. I was pretty friendly with the girls, too. We didn’t chat or hang out, but they didn’t mind me. None of them picked on me from what I remember. They stuck to themselves and loathed the boys who bullied me. They knew I was getting beaten up but didn’t tell because tattling got you in trouble. I honestly can’t remember if any of the girls tried to help me, but I knew that an enemy of my enemy could be an ally.

What I thought up, which was diabolical, couldn’t be known by anyone other than me. As I had mentioned before, this was a lone-wolf operation and it all started with me learning how they wrote. You can probably see where this is headed, considering the title of the post. It wasn’t hard to get samples of their writing, everyone usually threw away their classwork. These bullies didn’t write well. All I had to do was misspell words, leave out punctuation, turn some letters backward, and voila. I’ve crafted work that looked exactly like theirs. As far as how I voiced the letters, it didn’t matter as long as it sounded robotic. My name is Bryan. I like apples. Apples start with the letter A. Do you like apples… Easy peasy.

So at home and sometimes at school, when I had finished with an activity ahead of others, I wrote love letters from the bullies to girls, who again despised them. I planted these letters where the girls or the teacher would find them. When the girls found these letters, they hated the boys so much that they gave them to the teacher. I had figured that they wouldn’t be reprimanded because they didn’t want love letters from these boys. They hated them. I also had figured that the teacher, as mean as she was, would direct her rage at the one who she believed had written the letters. Remember when I said this teacher was the meanest I ever had? I wasn’t exaggerating. (Near the end of the school year, I snuck a recorder into class and taped how she screamed at us. I shared it with my mom, who referenced her shock many times, even decades later). Sometimes we cried as a class because of the teacher and it seemed she took some kind of pleasure out of it. So imagine her rage when she learned a boy had written a love letter to a girl in her class. (She lost her everlasting mind.)

Whatever we were doing when the letter came to the attention of the teacher was no longer a matter. After she read the poorly written note where the bully seemed to profess his love for a girl who hated him and he most likely hated in return, she went ballistic. A shouting match between the teacher and the innocent boy captivated all within earshot, and, as entertaining as it was, it was equally disturbing.

Yes, I did one letter at a time. Four letters at once would’ve blown my cover. But for each of them, the outcome was the same. They stood up to the mean teacher and said things that got them into real trouble. Sure, they ended up on the playground bench and had silent lunch for a while, but that and the humiliation was only part of the hell they had to endure. Who knows what they had to deal with when they saw the principal? I’m sure their parents may have been called, too. Now that I think about it, these bullies probably wondered who wrote these letters. If they ever thought it was me, they never said so. Most likely, they thought the girls hated them so much that they wrote it to get them in trouble. Good luck selling that to the meanest teacher ever or even to Aunt Selma, who keeps telling you and anybody else who’d listen, “You’re in love, so stop actin’ like you don’t have a little girlfriend back in school.”

Before the teacher discovered a second letter, I was already satisfied with the outcome. I had started with the meanest bully first, but I wanted to get them all back. I waited a week or two before planting it. Even as a child, I knew not to do this in one day or even a week. I can’t remember if it was the second or the third boy who snatched the letter from the teacher’s hand and threw it at her, but I do know that I felt bad for him. Even thought about stopping, but I would not, which nearly ended disastrously for me.

I remember writing the fourth and final letter. It had been weeks since I dropped the first one. It was time to finish it and fulfill my revenge. I wrote it, mimicking the bully’s handwriting. Of course, all the letters were written differently. Simply but differently. We were working at our desks. The love interest in this letter sat close to me. While she was with the teacher, I leaned over and shoved the final letter inside her desk. But there was a problem. Her other neighbor, another girl, saw me do it. She reached in and took it out. I watched her read it. Horror coursed through me. If she told the teacher, it would be known that I was the writer of all the letters. When she looked at me, she mouthed the words, “It was you.”

I can’t remember what I said. I may not have said anything. But I do know that I pleaded with her. Hands folded as if in prayer, begging for her silence. If the teacher found out, I would be in a world of the most unrefined stench. Ironically enough, it would’ve been justice. But like I said before, snitches weren’t honored at that school, and the girls weren’t friends with the bullies nor did they receive a verbal lashing on account of those letters. They didn’t ask for those letters. So, she gave me the letter back and said, “Don’t do it again.” And I didn’t.

I let it go. The last guy, the last bully, was spared. But for the rest of that year and even the year after, I avoided these kids by staying in view of the teachers. I went where they couldn’t bother me. While I found satisfaction in having them humiliated and scorned in the classroom, I knew what I had done was wrong—brilliant, but wrong. Had not that girl found me out, I’m sure I would’ve grown into a real-life supervillain. I know this because deep down a part of me is still willing to write the letter and plant it so that the last bully can face the wrath of the meanest teacher I had ever known. It may have gone something like this:

Hi Manby I see you qlay on d jum rooq I can jum rooq reel gud I like you vere mush you r my girfend but don tell we keep it a cekrit
luv
Tommy

I know. I’m horrible. Don’t tell though, please!

The post Love Letters Nearly Made Me A Supervillain appeared first on Bryan Timothy Mitchell.

The Whipple Snipple Thingy has gone awry in the haywire patch community causing much dismay among the haywire patch people, who are heavily known for going about their business daily without getting splinters or stepping on small Legos, which is the worst. However, peace and stability have been jeopardized (yeah, I spelled it right) now that the Whipple Snipple Thingy has entered their domain. It has caused terror beyond all human prepositions, whoops, I mean contradictions—that’s not it either—hmmm. Contraception? Magnification? Obviously not. Oh yes! Beyond all human comprehension, which also rhymes with tension and kinda with kitchen. Either way, I digress; the unspeakable horror of the Whipple Snipple Thingy (which may be indescribable but writeable as you can see) has the haywire patch people calling for local (although they would settle for loco as well) farmers to bale them out. See what I did there?

“My gudnuss,” said one fairly strange person from the haywire patch community. “I wen tu put on muh shoe buh dey dun gone off sum wer.” While this may seem like little cookies to some, maybe most, oh who am I kidding—everyone who ever existed, it is important to know that according to haywire patch people traditions, shoes must be tied in the mornings to prevent widespread panic, besides this is a situation and most certainly not any kind of cookie, big or small.

If you would like to help the haywire patch people get back on track please hunt down the Whipple Snipple Thingy, you’ll know what it is when you see it. Can’t miss it, in fact. Should you find this Whipple Snipple Thingy approach with caution if you are wearing shoes and release the imprisoned shoes and return them to the haywire patch people. A reward will be provided by today’s sponsor, Rat-ah-tat-tat Be-bop-bow-lop Snap-uh-to-EE-What-uh-bam-boo who knows exactly what it’s like to go without a good breakfast, which is why they suggest a good breakfast can go a long way, depending on how you and and how much you eat. Thank you for checking in and remember that forgetting is not a very memorable thing to do. This is me and see you next time, or um, actually, I’ll write more next time. In another post I mean. Not more words obviously although that could happen. It may be less words but it most certainly will be another article of some sort. You get the picture. Not an actual picture obviously just the idea. OK? You get the idea. Or maybe you don’t. I don’t know. Either way, I’ll write, more or less, again.

Sooner or later.

The post The Whipple Snipple Thingy Creates a Conundrum appeared first on Bryan Timothy Mitchell.