tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-46235552058793402172023-11-15T08:58:01.252-08:00Ezekiel LottI eat produce.
I do not eat leopards.Ezekiel Lotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04907475499699655743noreply@blogger.comBlogger10125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4623555205879340217.post-23593368717151309402011-05-15T18:06:00.000-07:002011-05-15T18:24:43.052-07:00<span style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-weight: bold;">That morning, Ezekiel awoke to a familiar smell: the smell of fresh flesh. In the midst of the storm the night before it seemed that two of the residents of Watershed Heights had ended up dead at the base of the building, each on their own side. One of them was a local nun. Ezekiel believed that Jesus must have been responsible for her death. Christains always say that Jesus taught by example, and Jesus was a Jew. Hence, the example he set was being a faithful Jew. Ezekiel had gotten one thing right. The other dead person was a man. Ezekiel could tell from his years of hunting leopards that the man had been shot - properly executed by one bullet under the chin. This man had comitted suicide. At least Ezekeil hadn't lost all hope yet, for he still had hope enough to live, to go outside and survey the dead people surrounding his apartment building. And with those realizations, Ezekiel Lott suddenly felt wonderful. He had done something correctly - something enough to not have died. With that he walked on to what would go down in history as one of the happiest days of his life. </span>Ezekiel Lotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04907475499699655743noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4623555205879340217.post-84452748083252912932011-05-09T07:22:00.000-07:002011-05-10T14:05:45.955-07:00<span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;" >Now that Ezekiel had completed his leopard dice, he decided to take a walk looking for the man in the jaguar. But before he could even make it down to the lobby of Watershed Heights, the power went out. Ezekiel would not have noticed, except that the single light at the top of the stairs stopped flickering and went out completely. As Ezekiel walked out into the daylight, he was greeted with the strangest smell - shepherds pie. He could, of course, not eat the pie he smelled (in fact, he could not eat any type of pie), although he knew the smell was coming from a small shop that still had power around the corner. So because he could not eat the pies, he walked away from their smell. As he turned around, he saw another man walking away from the pies. Another vegan perhaps? Or surely a vegetarian a least, because the smell of shepherds pie was overwhelming the city. And with that, Ezekiel set off to follow the other man.</span>Ezekiel Lotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04907475499699655743noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4623555205879340217.post-46974855932881095922011-04-25T06:57:00.000-07:002011-04-25T07:08:37.486-07:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><b>Deena's 28 Hour Diner is the only place in town that has specifically vegan food. It was just a fruit salad, but it was advertised as the "Vegan Special of the Day" every day. Unfortunately, the people who went to Deena's 28 Hour Diner were about as bland as their fruit salads. On this particular trip to the diner, Ezekiel noticed two men who were most likely under the influence of drugs. He did everything in his power not to throw up as he watched these men gobble down their bacon, eggs, and cheese. Those poor pigs, chickens, and cows... Ezekiel ate his fruit salad and tried to forget the image of bacon. Instead, he focused on making a leopard skin steering wheel cover for the owner of the jaguar.</b></span>Ezekiel Lotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04907475499699655743noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4623555205879340217.post-29432491169874590042011-04-21T18:01:00.000-07:002011-04-21T18:10:11.956-07:00<span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" ><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">Ezekiel Lott woke up and decided to make a name for himself. He was running low on money, so he needed to start selling his leopard skin goods again. As he filled a bag with various leopard goods, Ezekiel began to work on his sales pitch: "... and for the low price of just 8.22, I'll double my offer! That's right, not just one but 2 headbands..."</span><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;">When he walked around outside, Ezekiel noticed a woman sitting on a bench near the playground. "Hello ma'am, can I intrest you in some leopard skin accessories? I think they would really bring out your eyes..." Without so much as eye contact, the woman got up and left, following another woman who appeared to have fallen into a vat of black ink. With his spirits dampened, Ezekiel took the first womans spot on the bench and watched as sopmeone drove away with a broken ATM.</span></span>Ezekiel Lotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04907475499699655743noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4623555205879340217.post-91769456987065585832011-03-30T17:43:00.000-07:002011-04-21T18:11:57.396-07:00<span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;" >Ezekiel stared as the car roared by. A jaguar. Was this some kind of cruel joke? Perhaps the driver would like some leopard accessories to go with his jaguar. Or maybe, Ezekiel could order some jaguar skin. This man surely wants a steering wheel cover or a pair of fuzzy dice to hang from his rearview mirror as he drives around Watershed Heights taunting those who don't have Jaguars (the cars or the cats). By the time Exekiel had finished his train of thought, the car was no where to be seen. In its place was a large fire near the carnival. The fire smelled like burning hair and plastic. Ezekiel hoped that the clown who had not allowed him to enter the carnival somehow got caught in the fire. Everyone knows the two most important parts of being a clown are the hair and the plastic shoes.</span>Ezekiel Lotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04907475499699655743noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4623555205879340217.post-37738341200842527282011-03-25T07:00:00.000-07:002011-03-25T07:14:21.187-07:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>It was a nice day in Watershed Heights, which was quite a rare occurrence. A carnival had just pulled into town, bringing with it strange people, a faint smell of mildew, and stale popcorn. Ezekiel had not had an popcorn in quite some time, and he was curious if it was still as salty as he remembered. As Ezekiel headed to the carnival, he saw the town mutt. Lucky was surprisingly well fed considering that he had no real owner. He wasn't a fat dog, but he wasn't about to starve. Ezekiel often wondered if he could make Lucky into an article of clothing - perhaps a hat or a purse. Although he had never worked with dogs, they couldn't be too different from leopards. But Ezekiel was quick to cast this thought out of his mind, as he no longer got his income that way. He arrived at the carnival, but could not walk under the rusty sign, because just then, a clown whose makeup was clearly happier than the man underneath told him that this was not in fact an entrance but an exit.</b></span></span>Ezekiel Lotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04907475499699655743noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4623555205879340217.post-75888720135451968022011-01-04T11:53:00.000-08:002011-03-04T07:11:54.669-08:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>Being a vegan in the small town of Watershed Heights was wearing down Ezekiel. The "food" received from Foo Food could hardly be qualified as food at all. It had about as much nutrition as dirt. Ezekiel noticed that there was a run down garden on the roof when he originally moved in. He would have taken a plot for himself to grow some vegetables but he did not want to socialize with the crazy people who use rooftop gardens. Perhaps if he got some seeds somewhere he would consider a plot. He had lost quite a bit of weight since moving here.</b></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>After the incident in the synagogue Ezekiel realized that there were very few sane people here. He was convinced that there must be someone else who understood his hatred of his new home. So, although he was shy, and he feared running into more people who disturbed him, Ezekiel set out to find a companion. Luckily, a carnival was coming to town soon. Then he could survey all of the characters living here.</b></span></span></div>Ezekiel Lotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04907475499699655743noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4623555205879340217.post-73069292601097775052010-09-24T19:00:00.000-07:002011-03-04T06:52:07.260-08:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When Ezekiel had become Jewish, it was a new life for him. He had hope that he would be saved. But he also understood that his past sins needed quite a bit of forgiving. He knew the God of the Old Testament could be vengeful. In order to secure his spot in Heaven, he made sure to go to the local synagogue as often as possible. He was there almost everyday. And he always came with one of his many leopard accessories. Ezekiel didn't care that leopard skin kippahs weren't in style.<br />On this particular Saturday, Ezekiel was early to services. He showed up at least 30 minutes before sundown. He would have shown up earlier, but he waited in his apartment for the torrents of rain to slow to a drizzle before he dared step foot outside. The time passed slowly and Ezekiel yet again sat thinking through his guilt. </span></b></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The things I did were bad things. There's nothing I can do to change the past. All that's left for me is to ask God for forgiveness. Even He won't forgive me for this. At least this leopard didn't die in vain. </span></b></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> He rubbed the leathery inside of his kippah.<br />Before the service ended, a deranged man burst through the front doors. He needed a shower and a razor. His shadow of a smile was eerie, as if he knew something that no one else did. Ezekiel tried his best to ignore the interruption, but he could not look away until the man left. Only then could he continue his prayer. </span></b></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The things I did were bad things. There's nothing I can do to change the past. All that's left for me is to ask God for forgiveness. Even He won't forgive me for this. At least this leopard didn't die in vain...</span></b></span></span>Ezekiel Lotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04907475499699655743noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4623555205879340217.post-71216631232337182122010-08-31T18:12:00.000-07:002011-03-04T06:51:06.762-08:00<span style=" font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;">Ezekiel Lott was hungry. There was not much to eat in the small community around Watershed Heights. There was an especially small amount for a vegan, which meant that being hungry was nothing new for Ezekiel. An overgrown rooftop garden sat atop the apartment building. Since he had moved in, Ezekiel had wanted to start to grow vegetables there, but he did not have the drive, or the green thumb to actually take on this endeavor. He hoped someone else would take on the project and he could simply reap the benefits. There was a woman who he saw near the basement who seemed very intent on some mold. Perhaps she would be able to garden. But alas, the crazy woman had not yet proved to be helpful, so Ezekiel put on a leopard skin hat and walked to the Grocery Stop-and-Shop. He bought a bruised banana, which would have to fill him up for now. He needed to get back to sewing. He still had three leopard skins left to turn into handbags.</span>Ezekiel Lotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04907475499699655743noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4623555205879340217.post-27019013646221212112010-08-19T17:38:00.001-07:002010-08-23T16:42:24.432-07:00<span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Ezekiel Lott had just woken up form a terrible, recurring dream. In this dream, he is running through the wilderness in South Africa near his home village, directly outside of the boundary of Kruger Park. Kruger Park is a wildlife reserve. He is running because he is being chased. He is being chased by something terrible and wild and vengeful. He knows what is chasing him. It is a leopard. And then it is two leopards. And then it is six. And then it is every leopard that he has ever killed, which add up to quite a few. As he runs, he sees a fork far in the distance. Not a fork in the road, but a silver fork used to eat solid foods. It is sitting on the ground, covered in dirt, but the gleam catches his eye. He knows that if he reaches the fork, he will be free from the terrible, wild, vengeful leopards. But he can never reach it. The dream always ends too quickly. The ending to the dream varies. Sometimes he trips and the leopards eat him. Sometimes he jumps the fence into Kruger Park. Or, as in many dreams, there will be a sudden change in location and he will find himself safely somewhere else. In this particular dream, Ezekiel finds himself teleported from the edge of Kruger Park back to the Jamaican Restaurant down the street from where he lives. </span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >At this point, he wakes up. </span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:trebuchet ms;" >He looks around his room at his many leopard-skin accessories and can't decide whether to sob or scream. No one would be able to hear him either way, even through the paper-thin walls of his apartment. It was, after all, a dark and stormy night.<br /></span>Ezekiel Lotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04907475499699655743noreply@blogger.com0