Czech it out!

I made all of that up right now at 11:11 PM. It's completely original, I swear!

Czech out my new pants. They are very france-y pants. Iran around in my france-y pants all the time. Iran so much that my france-y pants get greece-y. Sometimes, when I'm china go to sleep, all I can think about is rome-in 'round in my france-y pants. My momma comes in the door and says, "Kenya go to sleep already? I gotta russia out the door tomorrow morning for the doctor's czech-up." I reply, "Norway, ma! It's chille india room! Taiwan to sleep, I'm tired, but kenya turn up the heat a bit?" I get up and look outside. There's this crazy guy s'weden his lawn... in the middle of the night. It was to-italy strange. I picked up my toy crane and said, "Ukraine, czech out that crazy man who's rome-in 'round china s'weden his garden in this chille weather. Kenya france-y that?!"

The Juggernaut

My mission is of the upmost importance. So many people depend on me every day. In fact, my mission is so important I must do it every hour to keep things in line. If I was to miss a job, the fabric of their work would unravel very quickly. I am an integral part of a very large-scale operation involving thousands of people a day. I am large, possibly the largest thing many people have and will ever see. But I am comfortable with so much responsibility. I am fearless. I live for my mission and for my people.

What am I?

The Costal Renaissance, the most impressive boat in the B.C. Ferries’ arsenal. Equipped with dual cafe/restaurant blasters, massive interior space filled with the most precious cargo protected by a super-strong yet sleek and stylish white-finished hull, capable of withstanding even the most crushing of wave onslaughts. I am a juggernaut, all beast on the outside. But inside, I am a comfortable, relaxed atmosphere, capable of catering to all and all needs. You could say I’m perfection incarnate. But I’d rather just be referred to as ‘the Big Ferry boat’.

In the Trail of Fire...

My head is spinning furiously as I am speeding around the track. I tilt to the side as I come around a corner. I hear screaming, loud and piercing, it comes in waves like a relentless tide. My limbs ache, but I know I must keep strong... many people's lives depend on it. They are stuck, physically, and so am I, but mentally. I felt like I was just running in circles, never able to get away from the repetition. I can almost smell their fear when they are this close. My insides groan as we come up yet another hill, only to plummet down once again.

I am forced into this terrible slavery, and I am unable to understand it's purpose. Why do we bring living people in this terrible journey of screams and drops and twists and turns, only to let them off minutes later? I feel so guilty for doing this never-ending toil, and the only way I can comfort myself is that these poor souls with whom I bring with me are set free to a better place and not to some different, more terrifying instance. The only thing I know about them is one word that they seem to call me.

Rollercoaster.