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Nick ******
8 February 2005
Creon and Antigone, Tragic Hero Brother and Sister
Antigone is a considerable tragic hero. She is noble, she has a tragic flaw, a downfall, and she grows. However, the other tragic hero in Antigone by Sophocles, is Creon. When the play first begins, she appears to be the one and only tragic hero. However, the farther you get into Antigone the more it is apparent that Creon is the actually the main focus of the play. Antigone deserves to be called a tragic hero and so does Creon.
Antigone is a tragic hero, though. She is Oedipus’s daughter as well as his sister, and is a noble and a princess and follows the rules of the gods. The young woman is righteous in heritage as well as personality. She believes her brother must be buried, or his soul will rot in Hades. She must bring honor back to her family. However, for all her greatness, she is sick with pride. She’ll do anything to become a martyr. It is even possible that this is the only reason she covered her brother, to become one. When Antigone is sentenced by the king to death, her sister joins her. Antigone is so selfish for her martyrdom that she rejects Ismene’s help, “No Ismene. You have no right to say so/ You would not help me, and I will not you help/ me / . . . / There are those who will praise you;/ I shall have honor, too” (717). Antigone will not share her martyrdom with anyone, not even her sister. She will have it one her own, and only alone. Antigone suffers in prison. How horrible it would be waiting for the inevitable. She even begins to pity herself where she once was strong, blaming others for failures. She falls from grace in her own eyes. Antigone, the once fair princess engages to Haimon, will die. She commits suicide in her cold dark prison. Absorbed in herself and her own importance, it is what she wanted. Before her tragic death, Antigone grows. Grows for the worst, actually, when she says:
Look upon me, friends, and pity me/
Turning back at the nights edge to say/
Goodbye to the sun that shines for me no longer/
Now Sleepy Death/
Summons me down to Acheron, that cold shore/
There is no bindle song there, nor, any music (723)
Antigone is ready to die. And she will die upon her own hands. She has gone from fearless, to nothing but horror and hatred. Antigone dies a martyr, probably something she couldn’t have done in life. She wins, and Creon loses everything to her. In fact, at the end, he’d do well to listen to “Eleanor Rigby.” Antigone is a tragic hero, just one to a lesser extent than Creon. She dies, but ultimately wins against Creon. Creon is the true loser in this play.
As I said before, Creon is the true tragic hero in Sophocles’s play. He is the new king of Thebes and was born to nobility, where he inherited the thrown. Creon is now trying to prove himself after the bloody war between Oedipus’s sons. He is noble because of his position in power but is full of pride. Oedipus’s uncle may be stubborn and arrogant, but, generally, he is a good man. He is a relatable character for many readers and witnesses to the play because he can represent a father or parental figure in their personal lives. And the truth of the matter is that Antigone and Creon are very similar people with different ideologies. However, Creon does have the Oedipus family trait: pride. He also has stubborn pride, though. He permeates this when he will not be deduced by a woman. Creon tells Haimon, “If we must lose,/ Let’s lose to man at least!” (717). This statement proves Creon’s pride. He is a man, therefore, he would be humiliated to lose to a woman. After Creon’s persecution of Antigone, his story goes downhill exponentially. First, his very son storms out in an angry fervor. This was, perhaps, foreshadowing to his doom. After Antigone’s death, Creon pays with the sequential suicides of his son and wife. Creon suffers horribly. He learns that not even, 0068e, a king, can defy the gods’ laws. He is simply a pawn in their eyes. Creon screams at Haimon’s and Eurydices’s deaths:
Lead me away. I have been rash and foolish./
I have killed my son and my wife [with my stubborn pride]./
I look for comfort; my comfort lies here dead./
Whatever my hands have touched has come to nothing/
Fate has brought all my pride to dust. (737)
Creon has finally learned, too late, that he was acting foolishly. He now has nothing but the thrown of his country. Creon has fulfilled all the qualities of a tragic hero of Antigone the play. Antigone may have paid the price of death, but Creon did, indeed, lose to Oedipus’s daughter, and lost much more than just his life.
In dying, Antigone proves her point. The gods’ do rule over all men’s destinies. If one doesn’t obey their will, one will suffer. Antigone is an intriguing play. It plays off all men’s thoughts about religion and state. Perhaps, we still read it today to consider the fates of all involved. It is an emotional story. However, it could be that it speaks of something more powerful, more mysterious, than any of us could imagine on our own: What is right? What is wrong?

Rages of War
I’m scared. Very Scared. They’ve invaded my home and destroyed my family. They’re pushing up daisies now in the grocery store, eaten by vulgar beasts. Now I have to join the army at the tender age of one month, but I yearn to return home, because home is where the heart is.
My name is Carl Otticus. I come from a long generation of carrots. I had woke up from a restless sleep and I felt like crap. A young pea came in, “Are you awakeCarl?” he said. All of a sudden, a missile blew through the door, and hit the pea dead on. Green mush blasted the walls of my tent. I was horribly starved for food, so I ran and started eating the mush. I was ashamed. I had eaten like a pig.
The good carrot I am, I hurried out of my tent and shouted, “Attack! We are UNDER ATTACK, RUN for your LIVES!!!!” Chaos ensued. Missiles flew through the sky. I ran for my life, but my shoes were too slow. After all, money doesn’t grow on trees. I just wanted it to end, but they say it isn’t over till the fat lady sings. I hid. I ducked. It was over for me. Then I saw the light. Explosions to and fro. I didn’t care. I ran for it, “Arrrrrrrrrrghhh!” I shouted. I saw a dead pumpkin, a dead asparagus. Everything was dying around me. It didn’t matter now. Now that I was running. There it was. My destination. My goal. I hopped in. “What a joyous, lovely garbage can this is,” I thought. “Hmmmmm…… what is that?” There was a green object of sorts. Well, curiosity killed the cat. I gobbled it up. I saw another mouth-watering green morsel of food.
All of a sudden, out of the blue, an explosion happened, and I was flung from my hiding place. Weeeee! But no wee, I was hurt. I tried to pick myself up. My arm. I looked down. No! It wasn’t there—my beautiful hand. I scuttled on the ground, dragging my scarred and bruised body to safety. Then I saw a brave soldier cut down. I grabbed his weapon. Take that, dirty scum bags. I was the big cheese now. Fruits were appearing here and there. I took them all down. Then a big watermelon with a big bazooka appeared. He shot it. I BIT THE DUST!
Then my general appeared next to me. He was a strong ol’ onion back from the great grocery war of “69”. He took the watermelon by the neck and threw him into the horizon. He came up to me and pulled me up. He asked me what happened to my troop. On my last breath I said, “Sarge, there’ll all dead, Sarge, all dead…..”

10/01/03
“My mom is…”
incredibly intelligent, brave, and heroic women. She raised me from a baby to a toddler. A toddler to a teenager, and so on and so forth, and by herself for gosh sakes! Because that’s what she does. I applaud her in her honorable effort of trying to raise me. And somebody just frickin’ coughed on me so I’m going to STOP WRITING!!!!!!!!

10/02/03
“Describe your dad.”
Guess what, I can’t!!! HAHAHAHAHA! Never met the man, but I’ll be happy to describe my dog for you. Barkley is a great old pal, and a fun and carefree fellow. Oh! The times we’ve had!!! Hahahaha! Great friend! He’s so much of a role model. In fact, he’s my father figure, I think. Awwww, Barkley, you’ll never let me down, little pal, will you? No you won’t!

10/03/03
“70 degrees, free afternoon, I think I will…”
sleep, eat a little, and stare into nothing. With a big bowl of nice juicy nachos by me!!! And maybe snore a bit!!! That’s what I do ‘cause that’s heaven!!! All fatty heaven!!! Maybe I should eat some sausages too, cause they’re good.

10/20/03
“Describe your best moment of the break”
It was at night. I was calm and relaxed and partly collected. And I shut my eyes. And then nothing. My eyes were no longer necessary, and I drifted of… No more of my daytime existence!!! I was a child of the night and a baby of the moon.

10/22/03
“Seth did not recreate this weekend. He was not sick. He had no friends over. Seth went on an adventure. What was it?”
Seth decided to explore the magic that is bath time. He especially had fun with the rubber ducky, and could never get tired of the funny noise you make when you squeeze it. The rest of the house was full of his gleeful giggling, and he whispered into his rubber ducky’s ear, “You’re my best friend.”

10/23/03 MY BIRTHDAY!
“You have been given I million dollars. What will you do with it?”
First, I’d buy something to eat. Then I don’t know, maybe I’d buy Canada…

10/24/03
“Desribe Marcie & Brea in 20 years”
Marcie will be a homely housewife with 1 kid for every year she has lived. And she will spend her days yelling at her ugly little children. Brea will live deep in the forest. She’ll grow fat and ugly and when children wander into her house, she’ll fatten them up with sweets and eat them!!!

10/27/03!!!
“What time of the year is the most important to you and why?”
I don’t have a favorite time of year, nor do I believe there is a more important part. I do not like to judge things because I think it is very improper. The real question here, sir, is if your prejudice to certain parts of the year?

10/28/03
“What do you fear and why?”
I fear the boogie man!!! They say he doesn’t exist but I know he does!!! One time there was a sock at the end and when I woke up it wasn’t there anymore. It was on the floor!!! It was obviously put there by the boogie man. Luckily, I musta’ woke up in time and he disappeared into dust and returned to his evil realm!!!

10/29/03
“How do you stop fear?”
First I shoot it with a rifle. Then I shoot it few more times to make sure it’s really dead. And if I’m in a good mood, I might use pepper spray.

10/30/04
“If you had 5 dollars, what would you buy Seth and why?”
I would buy him a hat with a lightning rod tied to the top of it. Then I’d tell him when it’s really stormy out and if you go on your roof, television may be directly transported to your mind.

10/31/04 Halloween!
“What do you think is worse: saying something and wishing you hadn’t, or saying nothing and wishing you had… explain!!!”
Probably the first one because everyone will think you’re an idiot. And being an idiot is a bad thing in my opinion. I mean who wants to be called an idiot, certainly not me. It makes you feel stupid and insecure and all that.

Making The Bed For Dummies
He glimpses at the dangerously tangled sheets of a bed once capable of letting a person sleep in its warm sheets. “Oh no, not again,” he thinks, frightened. He pounces. Aaargh!!! The deadly sheets wrap around his bare ankles. Its pillow whams down on his head. The comforter strangles him. He breathes and releases a frustrating call for help. It was useless. The bed’s evil blankets curl around his neck. He grabs it and gives it a tired punch. He kicks it and the blankets, in utter pain, scream a cry, “Plananaploo!”
“Take that, and that,” he screamed. The severed blankets fall on the floor. The pillow jumped for its life. He jumped on it. Feathers flew. He growled with victory. He saw the blankets retreating. He jumped. He would not let them tell the tale.
“Aaargh!” He spit for he had feathers in his mouth. Rip! Tear! Rip! Tear! HAHAHAHAHAHA! He heard his ancestors cheering him. He had defeated evil!!! His mom walked in. He is now in for something more violent and unpredictable than un-kept bed.

Sweet Lord, I have to write another one of these bam things. Oh well, um, Hesus, what do I have to write about. I got it! Wait a minute, no I don’t. This machine is bloody annoying. Technology is the devil!
I really didn’t do anything this weekend! Hey, I got a story now, my Grandma got ran over by a reindeer. It was so frickin sad. Everyone came for the funeral. Bell, how ironic to get run over by a reindeer at the age of 95; poor women, I mean really. She was just about to finish baking her cookies when she ran out of sugar frosting. Oh, heaven forbid, the sugar frosting. Well that old gal couldn’t have that. She just had to go out into the cold of night to get the bloody frosting. If only I was there to stop her. The stupid frosting ruined her. Paps always said her bam frosting would be the death of her and bam it was.
Anyways, she went out into the street like any old women would who was fetching her sugar frosting for her freshly baked cookies. She stood in the road for some unholy reason. You see, she was possessed by the Sugar Satan. The Sugar Satan loves to possess little old ladies and halt their progress. That was when the reindeer came. Drinking and driving he was. Disgusting. She just stood and looked at the stupid reindeer come right for her. That’s when the bam creature hit her. Broke her neck apparently. Only her little Santa hat was left.
That was how it happened. This was relayed to us by the soul witness: Cookie Monster. Apparently Granny had invited him over for cookies. Like the mad cookie addict he was, he rushed over to Grandmama’s searching for his cookie crack. What he didn’t expect was to find Granny getting killed. Afterward he told us he ran over to crashed reindeer. After he had frisked it for cookies, he called 911.
When the ambulance arrived good Ol’ Cookie was is in for a surprise. They made him take a urine test and cookies were present in his pee. Poor Cookie was thrown in jail until Elmo bailed him out. Apparently when he got back to Sesame Street, Big Bird gave him a beating with a whip calling him horrible profanity. Less to say, they have gotten a divorce since. But not to worry, Big Bird has found a new wife for himself: one of the teletubbies, Po? Is that right? Oh who cares, they’re all the same those blasted teletubbies.
Anyway, my cousins came to town and we attended her funeral. It was lovely. All her assorted relatives came. I was so sad I started to laugh. When it was over, Gramps told me never to eat sugar frosting. “It’ll kill ya’ son,” he says.
“What the Nixon is that?” I says to myself. A lone reindeer appeared at the door. The whole gathering became silent.
“You get out of here, YOU BLOODY DRUNK!” shouted Gramps. The reindeer left, never to return. He was released from prison three years ago. Poor guy. And a dent in his butt too. A big ol’ dent. None of the gals liked the murderer with an indentation in his rear.

Nick ******
13 November 2004

Well picture this, it was a hot sweltering day in the dreary city of Omaha. I was at the sprawling Omaha Zoo, enjoying the vicious man-hating beasts of the petting farm area. The goats were quite energetic that day, so I sat down and enjoyed listening to their mystic cries fill the afternoon sun. I wanted to fulfill my dreams of petting one of their shimmering coats of perfectly laid hair, and feed their mouth full of teeth. So I jogged over to the food dispenser. It was a filthy, filthy machine that fed on my beautiful quarters and spat out its disgusting pellets. Dirty, dirty, dirty pellets with small oddly-colored flies all over them. I put them in my spotless hands and quivered with disgust. I then carried my pellets to a goat who, legend had it, had never been rode by any man. It was the queen of the goats, with utters of glorious proportions, and it wore its horns as if they were a crown. I laid my body next to it and sat up. Our eyes met; it was a beautiful moment. Then a mighty eruption of what would one day be put into song, happened. The goat spat all over my face. Cold saliva running down my nose, and I thought to myself, "What a perverse day." And from that day forward, I was known as the first victim of the live stalk revolution.

Oooooooooh yes. Read this story I wrote about it:
Death by Baseball
"One day I was playing third base and this mutant kid came up to bat!!! He was absolutely disgusting to look at. His arms were prematurely hairy and he had just one eyebrow. One long eyebrow and it looked like you could have a better conversation with it than the kid. Who most assuredly would only make several grunting noises and an occasional "TWWWIRPINNG!"

Anyway, the fellow burped and got his bat ready for impact. His eyes were absolutely alive with anticipation. He burped again. Apparently his stomach was too. I got ready for the almost inevitable swing towards my direction. I was bracing for the worst but in my heart I was singing the deedly to Burger King. The pitcher threw the ball. The batter got ready!!!!!!!! His butt went up, his arms went down, and his greedy little nostrils flared with the joy of battle.

He hit the ball toward me. OH GAWD!!! My heart leaped. I was going to die at the tender age of 8!!! The baseball came in like a Yankee being chased by a bunch of hill-billies. Yep, it was that fast!!! I got my glove ready. It was all so fast!!!! And BAMMMMM!!!!!!!!! The stupid thing hit me in the face and I went down like The Hindenburg. I practically imploded on myself as I fell to the earth. I had no idea of the severity of the damage done to my face yet. But I couldn't breath, so you know, I guessed it was bad. I laid there a bit. Crap. This was crap... My eyes were closed. Did I want to see what happened to my face? Did Mozart want to hear his own music? You know what, I don't know.

I rose from the ground covered in dirt and dead grass probably. My hands drifted to my nose. Awwww, ground zero! I opened my eyes just to find my hands covered in CRIMSON DEATH!!!!!! I didn't scream. What was I supposed to do? I stood there and took in the field. It was a beautiful day, really. Perfect afternoon for a bird shoot and a BBQ. The field was dry. It hadn't rained recently.

Awwww... look at that man running to me like a dingo chasing down a wounded kangaroo. I bet he's trying to help me. Yep. I looked at myself. I was absolutely covered in blood: hat, shoes, shirt, and pants. Um, I wonder if they can get a refund on these clothes? And my nose seemed to have exploded because I couldn't breath through it worth snot. Red hot mucous dripped down my shirt. Is it supposed to be red? I bet that's what happens when your brain cells explode.

This story ends with me going to the hospital, discovering my nose is broken, returning to the surgery thingy a few months later, and getting my first cosmetic surgery. The End"

ChickenWrath35@aol.com

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