make something #1

8/8/2019 Make Something #1

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COVER


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WelcometotherstissueofMake

Something,asixissue,yearlongexperiment.My

nameisAllenWiggsandthiswholethingwas

myidea,whichwassimplytohelpfacilitatethe

creationofnewthingsandhavetheendresultbe

somethingphysicalpeoplecanholdintheirhands

andenjoy.ThewholethingwasinspiredbytheGet

ExcitedandMakeThingsinternetmemeaswell

asthegrowinggroundswellofpositivecreativeenergythatseemedtodevelopinthelatterhalfof

2009.Andnow,hereweare.

MakeSomethingisacompleteworkof

love,oratleastinfatuation,foreveryoneinvolved.

Everycontributorhasallowedmeaccesstotheir

wonderfulworksoitcanbeprinted,theeditors

volunteeredtheirtimeandexpertisetohelpensure

thegrammarandspellingmistakeswerelimited,

andIhavepricedthisandeverysubsequentissue

withnomarkup.TheonlypeoplewhogettingpaidisMagCloud,soplease,ifyoulikeanyparticular

thinginthisissue(althougheverythinginthisissue

looksfantastictome,wellexceptmaybemypiece)

visittheirwebsites,letthemknowwhatyouthink,

andifyoucanaffordit,buysomeoftheirother

works.

EverystepofthisprojectIhavealways

halfexpectedtojustbetolditwascompletely

sillyandawasteoftimeorthatsomeaspectofit

wouldntwork.ButhonestlyIhavemetnothingbutoptimismandoffersofhelp,sotoendmy

ramblingIwanttothankafewpeoplewhoreally

helpedthismagazinehappen.Idliketothank

rstmytwoeditors,DanielMilweeandAnthony

Whittonwhodidgreatworkinaveryshort

periodoftime,JameeSasser,therstpersonI

toldaboutthisprojectwhothensentmetherst

draftofourcoverafewdayslater,andalsothe

personwhoeditedmystory,CameronCallahan,

whohasnotonlybeenthemostvocalsupporterbut

alsosomeonewhosownworkhelpedinspireme

toactuallytrysuchaproject,JamesPuckettwho

letususethefonthecreatedforthesomething

onthecover,thefolksoveratWhitechapelwho

reallyhelpedontheprojectinvariouswaysandmanyofwhomcontributedtothisrstissue,and

everyoneelsewhohascontributed,commented,or

justgenerallylookedinthegeneraldirectionofthis

project.Thankseveryone.Nextissueiftheresan

introitwontbesoOscarspeechy,Ipromise.Enjoy

therstissue!

IfyouwouldliketocontributeSomething

toanissueofMakeSomethingpleaseemailmeat

[email protected]

blog,MakeSomethingMag.blogspot.com

WELCOME!!!


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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Make SomethingbyJameeSasser 1

Birth NamebyCameronCallahan 4

MermaidbyJameeSasser 8

Dreams Are FunnybyShawnMain 9

Hoovah byKeithPerkins 13

Cash Register DeconstructbySamanthaBallard 14

Things I Learned in JapanbyJoshCatlett 16

The Silent Ballad of Dr TeethbyAllenWiggs 18

Audiophile/Ethereal CrosswalkbyRobinLeBlanc 20/21

CuddlesbyCharlene 22

Bios 23

Thank YoubySamanthaBallard 24


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Francis and Wendy were in the kitchen

shrieking in laughter when Henry got home.

Goodevening,ladies.Whatsgoingonhere?

Francis wiped tears from her face. Hi,

dear. How was work? How was the drive home?

Wendysqueezedhereyestightandletloosea

torrentofhystericlaughter.Francisgiggled.Henrysatdownatthetableanduntiedhisshoes.

Sowhatsthejoke?

Nothing.Wendyjustsawttoinsulther

motherlastnight.

It wasnt me! It wasnt me! Wendy

managed, gasping for breath. It was the sh man!

Francisgiggledagainandcrossedtochecktheoven.

Dinnershouldbereadyinabouttenminutes.

Tuna casserole. Someone could set the table for us

ifonlyshecouldndthesilverware.

Itwasntme!Itwasntme!

Will one of you tell me the story here?

Henry hadnever seenWendy sounabashedlyhappy.

The girl had a gloomy disposition and spent mostof her time at home locked in her room playing

dirges on the violin. Now her joy was infectious,

washing over the room.He couldnt help but smile.

Tellhim.Tellyourfatheraboutyourdream.

No.Yourst.Tellaboutyoursrst.Wendy

tookinadeepbreathandhelditlikeshewastryingto

containhiccups.Shegatheredplatesandsilverwarefrom

thedryingrack.Francischoppedvegetables.

Well,youknowhowyoulldreamsomethingandthen

be able to look back atyour day and pinpointexactly

whatinspiredit,butinyourdreamitwasalldistorted?

Sure.

Well,rememberonSundaywhenWendyhadtogettotheStonyCreeklibraryforhergenealogyproject

andIgaveherthosedirectionsthatwerebasedontheold

house?

Youmeanwhenshegotlostinthewoodsfor

twohours?

Iwasntlost!IknewrightwhereIwas.Iwas

drivingaroundincircles.IwassearchingforAngel

Street.

Whichwouldhavebeeneasytondifyour

motherknewwherewelived.Ifsheknewwhatyear

itwas.

Dontyoustartwithme.

Tellmeaboutthisdreamalready.

Dreamsss,Wendyemphasized.Plural.

Well,lastnightIdreamedthattherewasaterriblestormoutsidethehouse.Iminbedwithyou,listeningto

thethunderandtherain.Theresabrightashoflightning

andInoticeoneofthewindowsiswideopen,soIstartto

getoutofbed,butthentheresanotherashoflightning

andIrealizetheresamanstandingatthefootofthebed.

Heswearingthisbig,blackraincoatandafedora,andI

thinkhehadagasmaskcoveringhisface.Helookedlike

hedbethevillaininanoldmovie.Reallyspooky.Hes

drippingwater all over the oor and hes just standing

Dreams Are Funnyby Shawn Main


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there.And this isone of those dreammomentswhere

youjustfeelcompletelyparalyzed,youknow?Likeyou

cantbreatheormoveandyoutrytotalk,butyoucant

speakloudenough tomakeany sound. In the dreamI

wastryingtowakeyou,tryingtoyell,Henry!Theres

anintruder!butthewordsjustcameoutlikewhispers.

Thisiswhathadyouinstitches?

Shush.

Itgetsbetter,saidWendy.Hersmilewaswide.

So I cant talk, but this spooky man shufes

towardmeandleansoverthebedandinaraspyvoice

says, WheeeeeresWendy? andIm terriedwhat the

mancouldwantwithher

AndImjustsleepingthroughthis?

Youreoutcold,butinthedreamIcameupwith

thisplan.IguredIcouldmakeupcomplicateddirections

thatwouldconfusehim-thatwouldleadhimaway.So

I say something like, Go upthe thirdstaircase onthe

leftandopenthefourthdooron the rightandwalkout

thewindow.Thenturnaroundandclimbdownthrough

theholeintheoor.ThatswhereyoullndWendy.It

wasallnonsense,butthespookymandisappearedandin

thedreamIfeltsuchreliefthatWendywouldbesafe.

But! said Wendy. She had nished setting

their places. Francis nished with the salad. Francisopened the ovenand carried the casserole tothe table.

But!Francisrepeated.WhenWendygothome

fromschooltodayIwastellingheraboutmydreamand

howscaryitwasandshesays,ThatsfunnybecauseI

hadadreamlastnightwhereIwasinamazeandIwas

beingchasedbysomething.AtrstIcouldntseeit,but

Iwasjustrunninginablindpanic.Sweatdripsdownmy

face.Mybreathing isheavy. Im runningand running.

ImjustdesperatetondtheexitcauseImawarethis

thing isgaining ground behindme.Its like I can feel

itsbreathonmyneck.SometimesIturnacornertosee

animmenseshadowonthewall.SoImdoublingback.

Im lookingovermyshoulderand Icrashright into it.

IfallontheoorandwhenIlookup,Imstaringinto

thefaceofthisscalyshmonster.Itsuprightwitharms

and legs,but its hugehead islikea barracuda.SoIm

terried.ImscramblingtomyfeetandIyell,Howthe

helldoIgetoutofhere?Wendypausedinherstory

and looked at Francis and then Henry. And the sh

mansays,Well,dontaskyourmotherfordirections!

Wendy and Francis immediately fell into

another torrent of laughter. Henrywasnt quite sure

what to think. He dished himself some casserole.

See?saidFrancis.Likehewasthemanwith

therainjacketfrommydreamandhehadgottenlost

frommybaddirections.

Ohmy,Henrysaid,realizingthestoryhad

reacheditspunchline.Didyouwakeupthen?

Ohno.Ikeptrunning.InthedreamIthought,

Ohno!Themonsterisworkingwithmymother.Iran

andthecreaturelumberedafterme.Icametothisgreat

bigsign.Itmusthavebeenamap,butIcouldntread

it.Icouldmakeoutcorridorsandarrows,butIcouldnt

gureoutanyofthelabels.Imean,theysayyoucant

readinyourdreams.

Exactly!Francissaid.Well,digin.She

joinedtheothersatthetable.

Really?Icanusuallyreadinmydreams,

Henrysaid.IthinkIvehadwholedreamswhereI

wasjustgradingpapers.

Butwereyouactuallyreadingthepapersor

justgradingthem?

ImquitecertainIwasreadingthem.

No,becauseyoucantreadinyourdreams,

Francissaidmatter-of-factly.Itsimpossible.She

servedherselfsalad.

Icanneverreadinmydreams,dad.Its

alwaysgibberish.Italwayslookslikesomeancient

languagewithalltheserandomcurvinglineslike

SanskritorCelticrunes.

Exactly!Igetthat,too.Theylljustlooklike

scratchesorsomething.

Yes,likelastnight.Imstandinginfrontof

thismap.Imtryingdesperatelytondanexit,butI

cantreadanything.ItfeltlikeIshouldhavebeenable

to,butIjustcouldntquitegraspit.

Sowhathappenednextinthedream?Henry

asked,hismouthfulloftunaandpasta.

Wendyopenedhermouth,butFrancis


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Id hearmydad calling tome from somewhere out

somewhere and hedbe tellingmeitwas all rightand

thathewastherebuthewasnt.Thenmymotherwould

wakemeandtellmeIdbeenscreaming.

Howlongdidthatgoonfor?

Francisnishedherwaterandthenshookher

headasifcomingoutofareverie.Awhile.

Ivehaddreamslikethat,Mom,saidWendy.

Sortoflikefallingdreams.JustasImgoingtosleep,I

hearthisdeep,disembodiedvoice.ThenitslikeIplunge

intowaterandIwakeup.ItsnotDadsvoice,obviously,

butitsthatsamedistantcalling.

Iguesseveryonehasthosedreams.

Well,youladiesdontneedtoworry.Your

oldmansheretoprotectyou,saidHenry.FrancisandWendysatinsilence.Thatwasajoke.

Imgoingtogoliedownforalittlewhile,

dear.Francisstoodandleftthekitchen.

Wendyclearedtheirplates.Shedumpedher

saladdownthegarbagedisposalinthesink.Lookslike

raintonight,dad.

* * *

Branchesscrapedatthewindow.Rainpoundedatthegutters.Thunderboomedandreverberatedthroughthe

house.ButHenrywasawakenedsuddenlybysomething

moving in the bedroom.He took his glasses from the

nightstandandtriedtomakeoutthehunchedgureon

theothersideoftheroom.

Francis?hewhispered.

Thegurestraightenedup.Henryturnedonthe

bedsidelamp.ItwasFrancis.Shestoodbythedresserin

aheavyblackraincoatandfranticallypulledoutclothes,

droppingthemintoaduffelbag.

Ididntwanttowakeyou.Iwasgoingtoleave

anote.

Henrywasconfused.Helookedattheclock-3

A.M.

Whatareyoudoing?

Theyrereal,Henry,andhescomingorhes

sendingsomeone.Wecantstayhere.

Whatsreal,Francis?

Shezippeduptheduffelbagandapproached

thebed.

Itsnotsafeforushere.

Whyisntitsafeforus?

Noyoullbene.ShestaredatHenrylike

shewas goingto leanover and kisshim. Goodbye,

Henry.

Francis opened the door and left. Henry lay

in bed, stunned, uncomprehending. He could hear

footstepsoutinthehallandfootstepsdownthestairs.Fromacrossthehouse,overthesoundsofthestorm,he

couldheartheirlowvoices.

Mom,howlongwillwebegone?

Idontknow,butweneedtogetverylost.

Thefrontdooropenedandslammed.Thecar

startedanddroveaway.Henrycontinuedtolieinbed,now

wideawake.Thestormoutsideroared,monstrousinits

intensity.Hethoughtofthedreamhedjustwokenfrom.

Init,hewalkedbytheoceanandpeeredinto

thewater.Deepbelowthesurface,hecouldseeaface.

Wavessplashedand, through theturbulentwater,the

expression of the face seemed to run and twist. But

Henrycouldtellthatitsmiledandthatitwatchedhim.

Thenthefaceopeneditsmouthwideandletoutadeep

laugh. The laugh echoed and crashed around him.


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Things I Learned In Japan:An Americans Guide to the Interesting, Funny, and Just

Plain Weird

Ifyoundyourselfmorethanalittleconfusedandthinkyoumaybegoingcrazy,dontworry,yourejustinJapan.

Isampledalotoffoodwhilethereand,nolie,theonlything

thatmademesickwasthefoodfromthe100yenmenuat

McDonalds.

TheJohnLennonMuseuminSaitamaCityistheonlyplaceI

visitedthathadmouthwashinthebathroom.Ironic,giventhe

stereotypeaboutBritishoralhygiene.

After nishing the lming of The Wizard of Oz, TotoimmigratedtoJapanandstartedawildlysuccessfulbathroom

xturecorporation.

AcompanycalledBossCoffeepaidTommyLeeJonesashit-

tonofmoneytoplasterhisfaceallovertheirbillboardsand

appearinatleasttendifferenttelevisioncommercials.Also,

CharlizeTheronreallylikeseatingice.

InAmerica,Chik-Fil-Ahasaslogan:Wedidntinventthe

chicken.Justthechickensandwich.Japansslogan,onthe

otherhand, is something like: We didnt invent thevagina.Justthevaginainacan.

ImreallyscaredofthesoysauceavoredKitKatI

bought.ThegreenteaKitKatwasquitenice,though.

IneveryhotelIstayed,therewasacardthatcouldbe

boughtfor1000yenthatwasobviouslyforrentingporn.

Ithoughtthiswaskindofexpensive,workingouttoa

littleover$10US,butIsoonrealizedthatthecardwas

goodfor24hoursandCOVEREDTWOCHANNELS.

NowondertheJapaneseareinsuchahurry;theyreall

tryingtogetbackhometorubanotheroneout.

Japanesetelevisionisasweirdasyouvebeentold.One

show IwatchedwaslikeAntiquesRoadshow, except

itwasalso agameshow (everythingisa gameshow

inJapan)wheretheowneroftheantiquewasmadeto

guesshow much the expert wouldsay the itemwas

worth.Yetanothershow-evenstrangerthantherst-

involvedblindfoldedstrangerstryingtoidentifyvarious

modelsofDysonvacuumcleanersbysoundalone.

OSAKA SKYLINE

BUILDING, BUILDING, CASTLE, BUILDING... WAIT A MINUTE, CASTLE?

OSAKA CASTLE, OSAKA


17/2417

TherearealotoffuckingbicyclesinOsaka.

Ihearda sayingaboutdriving inMexicoonce:The

biggest car has the most right of way. In Japan, it

seemsthenicestandmosthumbledriverhasthemost.

Camerasandcamcordersaregenerallynotallowedin

arcades.Ifoundoutlaterthatthisisbecausethechampsandrecordholdersdontwanttheircompetitorstotake

thefootagebackhomeandanalysetheirstrategies.

Japanisastrangeplace,sure,butitsalsolledwith

beautiful scenery, greatfood,and someof the nicest

peopleIveevermet.Icantwaittogoback.

N A R I T A T O U R I S T P A V I L I O N

M A N Y P E O P L E T O L D M E N O T T O S P E N D T I M E I N

N A R I T A , W H I C H I S W H E R E T H E A I R P O R T I S

L O C A T E D , B U T S C E N E S L I K E T H I S M A D E M E G L A D I

D I D . N A R I T A T O U R I S T P AV I L I O N , N A R I T A

ITS A GUNDAM!!!!

AHEM. I MEAN, ITS A

GUNDAM STATUE.

KAMIIGUSA TRAIN

STATION IN

SHINJUKU, TOKYO


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James is yelling again, I cant recall why.

Heisbeingtooloud.IfIcouldbuildthecourage,I

wouldbeghimtoquietdown.Icant,Icantmake

theslightestofnoises.IfJamescontinuesbeingso

loud,hewillcome.HeisthereasonIamsoquiet.

Hedemandsmysilence;orwould,ifheeverspoke.

HisnameisDrTeeth,andhehastakencare

ofmeforaslongasIcanremember.Wheneverbad

thingshappened,hewouldstepin.Withabigsmile,

hejustcamealongandxeditall.Myfather,who

yelledandbeatme,thehugedogthatlivednextdoor

whosnarledandbitme,myabusiveexboyfriend...

hetookcareofeachone.

Jamesbellowssomethingthatmakesmelook

up.Aforeheadpeeksaroundthedoorframebehind

James;agiantgrinslowlyfollows.Thesmileisfull

ofyellowteeth,thegrindistractsfromtherestofhis

nightmarishface.Mygaspringsthroughmyears,but

Jamesignoresme,stillscreaminginanger.Itryto

usemyeyestopleadwithhim.DrTeethdoesntlike

noise;thelastthingIwantis.

BehindJames,DrTeethcreepsforward.Every

movement made is silent, slow and exaggerated.

Jamesslamshisstintohishand.Hispunchesare

loud,fast,andexpressinghisanger.Hetellsmemy

puppydogeyeswontbeenoughthistime.Myeyes

dart between thetwomovinggures.AsDrTeeth

nearsJamesIdotheunthinkable,Iverymeeklysay,

pleasebequiet.

James reaches back to slapme. Before his

handmovestohitmehiswholebodyisspunaround.

DrTeethquickly,elegantly,quietly,moveshisarm

in an arc. The sound of blood gurgling from the

woundechoesthroughtheroom.Jamesfallsontothe

couchnexttome,histhroatcutcleanly.Theblood

spillsontomylap.Itrytoremainsilent.DrTeeth

cleansoffhisswitchblade,hissmilereectinginthe

shimmerofthemetal.

Whenthingsinmylifegettooloudandscary,

DrTeethcomesalongtosaveme.Thersttimehe

tomy rescue,myfatherwas foundhanging inthe

bedroom,hisbeltaroundhisneck...theneighbors

doghadhisheadcrushedbyagiantrock...myex

boyfriendwas.....ohGod,notagain.

I look up at Dr Teeth through tear soaked

eyes,hisgrinisgoneandhesshakinghisheadat

me.His coldnger touchesmylips;hewantsme

tobequiet. I cant take itanymore. Im tiredof

The Silent Ballad of Dr TeethBy Allen Wiggs


19/2419

controllingmyselfforhim.Mycryinggetslouder,

Iwail,alltheyearsofsilentobediencearereleased.

Iscreamsoloudtheapartmentshakes.DrTeethis

takenaback,thereseemstobealookofconfusionon

hisface.Istopcryingandlookupathim.Hecocks

his headtothesidetakinganappraisal ofme.His

grinslowlycreepsitswayacrosshisface.

Shaking,Istandup.DrTeethisstillwatching

me,hisuglygringlowingatme.Iopenmymouth

andscream.Theapartmentshakes.Ifallbackonto

thecouch.Iletthetearspourout.Iremainloudas

possible,releasingmyfrustrations.

Dr Teeth thrusts his arm out, there should

besoundastheswitchbladeopens.DrTeethnever

makes any noise. He puts a nger to his lips,

his other hand swinging down. The sharp blade

swoops towards me. He nally makes a noise.

ssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhh. . . . .


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CONTRIBUTOR BIOS

Samantha Ballard is a visionary of the mundane, twisting the ordinary into darts

that y straight into the soul. Her weapon of choice is a camera, and you are her

next target. To prepare yourself, please visit breaking-reality.com

Cameron doodles comics about robots and paranoia with the talent and

unabashed fury of a ve year old. That is all, really. CameronCallahan.net

MJ; The National Free Press Editorial Cartoonist. Spilling ink on drawing boards

since 1979. Creator of the internationally syndicated feature FIDDLESTIX, in

publications since 1988. Thank you dedicated readers.

Robin LeBlanc lives in Toronto where she does many things like photography,lming and editing videos and writing stories, comics and press releases. She is

very tired right now. TheRobinLeBlanc.com

Formerly a theatre director, an EMT, and an ex-pat living in Cairo, Shawn today

resides in the American Northeast, teaches medical students, and writes tiny

ctions, some of which can be found at ShawnMain.net

Keith Perkins is an artist, lives in Maine in the US. This piece was inspired by

his dog, whos named Oliver, not Hoovah. And Hoovah is the way Mainers sayHoover. Check out more of his work at: KeithPerkins.net

Charlene resides in Glasgow in Scotland. She cant draw but tries anyway. You

can get her on twitter as @Just_Charlene or email [email protected]

Jamee Sasser is an artist from Southeastern North Carolina. She is 21 years old

and a college student majoring in English. Find out more and keep up with Jamee

at PurpleXStain.deviantart.com

Allen Wiggs came up with this mad idea of a magazine, even with it causing

headaches, he doesnt regret a thing, yet. Hes also working on an upcoming web

show premiering in May called Zombie Conversational. ZombieConversational.

com


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