Tuesday, December 13, 2005

Transmissions From Space

Transmissions from Space
By Weathy Industrialist, Irwin P. Applebaum

February the First, 2006

Hello my friends. As many of you have heard on the news, I have decided to pay the Russian Space Program 20 million American dollars to fly me to the moon. It’s been a life long dream of mine to conquer space ever since I first heard the words "That’s one small step for man, One giant leap for mankind." I was seven when I first started to really think about my future.
A teacher asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up and I said "An Astronaut." Ever since that moment, I’ve taken steps to ensure that I would one day take steps on the moon. I don’t have time to write, right now. I just wanted to tell you in my own words what was going on.

February the Fourth, 2006

Wheels are in motion. The Russian academy has decided to train me for space travel. The confirmed that the check cleared this morning. I begin the arduous training tomorrow at 6am. They are aware that I failed Space Training when I was in the Air Force. They didn’t seem to mind. I do not know their language.

Feb 18th 2006.

I have spent the better part of two weeks in the Russian training camp. I have excelled at the Javelin, the skeet shoot and Gallaga. Wheels are turning. Big, red, russian space wheels. Though they do seem mildly disinterested in my progress and my failed eye exam.
Upon completing my physical, my doctor looked at me and said "meh." and shrugged his shoulders. I do not know their language. It is proving to be an obstacle.

Feb 19th 2006

I spent the entire day underwater.

The water main in the basement ruptured and we all pitched in to help. Yuri, my spiritual advisor and close companion is a terrific welder and very handy with CPR.

Feb 24th 2006

We launch in four days. I am assured that my time here has been worthwhile. I feel better than I have in years. Yuri bought a Cadillac. He’s very excited. Every time he sees me he erupts into joyous laughter and says "Cadillac" in his thick Russian accent. He is the very best spiritual advisor a fifty year old man could have before being launched into space.

Feb 28th 2006.

We launch in five hours. I couldn’t sleep last night. My dreams are soon to be fulfilled. Space will be amazing. I’m like a child at Christmas.

March the First, 2006:

I am in outer space! The launch went off without too many hitches. I was told with violent shaking and incomprehensible screaming that the aft compartments are off limits due to the raging inferno contained therein. Yuri is dead. I am in space!

March 2nd

I’m still in space. It remains as it has.


I continue to be in space. I keep bumping into things. Floating is more annoying than you’d think. It’s fun for exactly two hours. I have no idea how my stocks are doing. I would kill for a cigarette. I wonder if the dogs are fed.


Still in this fucking tube. Bored. I just sort of assumed they’d have games or puzzles or something. I keep asking the cosmonauts if they would like to play hide and seek, but they dismiss me and scurry around the ship doing whatever it is that they do. They put out the fire yesterday. They seemed to think it was a big deal. I do not know their language.

Not sure:

I haven’t written in three days. I slept for a lot of it. Today we finally land on the moon! I can’t wait. My earlier enthusiasm has returned!

March 10, 2006

I walked on the moon’s surface and I picked up some moon dirt and I moon bounced around a bit. But that made me moon-sick, so I had to sit down on the moon. But you know what else there is to do on the moon? Nothing. Same as in the stupid ship. Thanks to Bob, for telling me that there would be Skiing. No skiing, Bob. They don’t even have that moon car. Or any outlet stores. This whole trip has been so boring. Oh, one of the cosmonaut’s suits tore on a moon rock and he lost his moon pressure and his head moon popped. So he’s dead.

March the Fifteenth, 2006

Finally back on Earth! We hit some turbulence on the way back. Apparently Ivan had trouble steering it all by himself because the other cosmonaut died on the moon, so he whined about that. We crash landed into the Bay of Biscayne. I don’t know if you know where that is, but I don’t know where that is. Apparently I’m the only survivor. I’d tell you I was fine, but that would be a lie. I’ll be fine when I get back to New York.

What a boring vacation.

If you’re going to take people into space, provide them with something to do. Let a guy go tanning once in a while. They should have told me that all I was going to do was spend 20 million dollars to float around with some Russians. I wanted an Iced Mocha so bad you have no idea. They didn’t even have one coffee machine! On the whole rocket!

I’ll be home soon, I have to go to 3 state funerals before I’m allowed to leave. Snooze City.

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

Gothic Love: A True Story

Gothic Love: A True Story

Dante is lost in thought, he’s lost in her arms. He thinks to himself: "The world is a black death that only I and snookie wookems wuv muffin understand. Screw you, proletariat! Me and my kitten faced snuggle factory revolt against you, and your machinist overtones!" Then suddenly, from the depths of this morbid reality that he finds himself trapped in, he cries with all the power of the dark lord, "Ooh. Hey, stop that!" His voice clatters in the minarets of this dark and loathsome computer laboratory! His mind reels with anguish! "Oh, I hate it when she tickles me."

Tormented he is! He is lost in the throws of the penultimate torture of ticklery! Forsooth, she be a dark mage of nightmarish measures if ever there was one! "Giggledy Hee! I put a level five dark curse on you, Skeeter!" His curse is clearly deflected by her hell forged chains of malice and steel, which she bought at J.C. Penny for a dollar ninety five. J.C. Penny being the darkest of all outlet superstores. Also, he calls her Skeeter, sometimes. It's something they do. You wouldn’t understand you Commercialized Zombie Nightmare! "Embrace Nothing, my dark princess. And pretend as though I am Nothing! TEE-HEE!" Truly, he is the buddy of Satan!
Then ventures to speak to his love, "You’re pretty cool, Amethyst." He does so with a straight face. He doesn’t want to smile and ruin his lip liner. He lined his lips black today. "The Crow fucking rules." He thinks to himself. Then he says to his torturous love, "The Crow fucking rules." The Crow doth rule, cinema verite at it’s black hearted core!

"Yeah." She says placidly, lest she betray her true emotion, which she has planned to reveal at another, viler time. She plots in her mind about the time of her blood soaked and bone crushing announcement "I soooo want to tell him that, like, I think I love him. I should tell him today, no, like, tomorrow. I should make a MASH about it. Ooooh, my tummy is a butterfly hatchery from heaven!" She thinks, but clearly must have meant "...etc...From HELL!" She is cloaked in dark remorse and prays for rain! "I hope it rains, my Jetta is filthy." Mwahahahah! Avert your eyes, uninitiated worm! She has cast a spell on the skies above you!

Dante pets her thigh as though it were his own. When shall he make his move to steal her away and devour her thigh in a godless ritual? Surely he has decorated his abode in pentagrams, 666 and carved an altar from stone. Surely he has. "If she comes over tonight, I have to hide the Maxims." Surely he means his dark ideology which he has painted on the walls in goats blood! Dark, evil goats blood! "Maybe I should tell her my name is, Jeffery." Jeffery? Ahh, maybe, then, fuck ahh... Jeffery? Uhm. Jeffery backwards is yreffej! Deal with that, conformist! Conform to Yreffej’s evil plot! Kill yourself with rope!

She is purring now, like a witch’s familiar panther. The strong, black cat that she is. She is his hell cat, and he her hell hound, with just two fewer heads than Cerberus, the hell hound who has three heads! She is enjoying the thigh pet and is countering his love magic with a level nine back scratch! Surreptitious back scratch level 9, activate! You are truly in her claws now, Dante. Or Jeffery. Jeffery is now well on his way to being entranced by her bilious, sticky, love magic. Her black army boots are slowly trudging through your dark and hazy soul. "Want to watch Soul Plane tonight?" She asks. Devilish Chicanery! No human would ever subject their eyes to the most horrid film in history! She is clearly attempting to court the devil himself!

"Sure. I’ll bring pop." POP? What the fuck? C’mon man! Ahh, ahhh haha, by uhmm, ok. Ok. Ok. By pop he means the curious murky fluid of Hell’s chalices that is carbonated by human souls, and pop as they reach the surface and foolishly attempt to reach their heaven! Laughable, courageous endeavor though it may be, all who know, know that all pop is flat in helllll. Satan pisses on your enjoyment of sodas.

"Dante?" She asks. A dark twinkle in her eyes, that surely is the harbinger of a dark secret. Will she finally reveal that she is merely a demon monster in human cloaking? Or, perhaps she will get his attention so that she can stab him in his fleshy underbelly with a hidden bone dagger? Of all her collection of daggers, the bone dagger would be most likely to end him in the most painful way! Prepare to die, you who was once known as Dante, but is secretly Jeffery The Hidden!
"Yes, Amethyst?" Oh, be absorbed into her devilish trap, Jeffery The Hidden! Your Health Points are surely to be vanquished with the utmost urgency, by Amethyst’s hell forged blade of bone, which is +2 to hit!

"Uhmm I don’t know how to tell you this. But..." Here we shall learn her dark secret! Prepare to die, Jeffery! You knowest not what Amethyst contains in her black heart! "...Could you call me Amy from now on? My real name is Amy." Oh, what, the, fuck! Amy? Are you serious? You are a black guardian of Satan. A mystical lover of evil schemes! Your name be Amethyst The Dark Crystal of Doom, not Amy The Baker of Cakes, Inhabitant of the Suburbs. This is ridiculous! What happened to all the darkness that swirled about this Computer Laboratory like demons feeding? It has been replaced by Boring White People of Track Housing! Fucking Jerks, I skipped Model UN to narrate this story, and you guys are ruining everything. Shit. I mean, I am Doomulous the Viewer of Lost Souls! Peer with me into my Cauldron of Sight! I will punch you in the face! Kill yourself, it’s the only way to escape my evil gaze!

"All right, but only if you call me Jeffery" ‘The Hidden. Call me Jeffery the Hidden, or you will die by my hand!’

"oh wow, I thought you’d be mad" ‘at my righteous indignation of anger and I will slay you with...’

"No no, I only started dressing like this to meet girls anyway" Slow down, trying to Narrate this back to the original, dark path! ‘Girls made of bones and evil, and you’re certainly not it, because your name is Amy, which is stupid. I divorce myself from this conversation.’

"Oh, well I guess you found one." ‘And now I will end you! I will stab you in the face with a bone and then cast a spell of stabbing! Which is something I invented just now, for I am Amethyst The Dark Crystal of Doom!’

"This computer lab is cozy." Cozy is a word used by wieners! I hate it. He must have meant that, ‘oh I’ll make this computer lab cozy, but igniting it with brimstone, ohh we’ll all cozilly bake in it’s furious heat.’ That’s what he meant! Read into it no more, for I am the Dark Interpreter of Casual Conversation! Doomulous be my name!

"All this leather is chafing, isn’t it?" She asked knowing the boooooring answer already.

"Yeah, don’t tell Damian and those guys, but when I get home, I always take it off and put o this fuzzy robe that my Nanna got for me." Oooh look how un-evil this conversation is, whaaahhh my Nanna or something. Your Nanna is in the pits of fiery hell, Jeffery! I smacked her in the face with a salmon! Strange and horrible tortures have been applied to her visage by me, doer of evil!

"Oh my god, I do the same thing! That’s so funny!" No it isn’t, whore. It’s just not at all. I hope you catch a cold and then sneeze a lot. Fuck, now I’m having a hard time being evil. Fucking conformers are sucking the life out of me.

"And you know how there used to be those days where nobody could find me?" Oh oh oh! This better involve a haunted forest or I am fucking out of here. He’s got an evil, lecherous look in his eye. It seems as though he’s going to reveal that this was all a trick. Yes! A trick worthy of Old Scratch himself, he had just been testing her. He is truly a dark and worthy Goth, and she is as though she is made of shit. She has shit where her brains should be, and therefor he shall call her Shit For Brains and then he’s going to go back to his coven and drink the blood of the young. Right, Dante? Your inferno may yet burn brightly!

"I was at banana republic, I had a part time job there for a while." FAKE. Fake goth! Phony! Everyone understands you and you secretly like football. Ruined my whole goddamned day. I refuse to sit here and Narrate this Jock’s story for one moment longer.

I banish you both into the glowing pink pits of love and happiness. Be forever doomed to walk the earth in reasonably priced, comfortable clothing. I doom you to clear skin, and gender specific make up assignments. I AM DOOMULOUS! I say the future. I read your souls in my black cauldron of bubbly hate! I shall sick spiders on your faces when you least expect it. I am the owner of Shadows, Worshiper of Hate; while your names are Amy and Jeff, the retarded and whom I don’t like very much. Enjoy damnation in the eternal suburbs of quaintness! You hear me? Enjoy conforming, conformists! My leather pants chafe too, you don’t hear me whining about it. You understand me? Why doesn’t anyone understand me? I AM DOOMULOUS! I’m going to go do something else now. I’ll talk to you later. I’ll probably see you in math or whatever.

Thursday, November 03, 2005


I haven't touched Ian and Shane since I came down with the sickness. It'll be done soon. I realize this is the fortieth time I said that. Yesterday I wound up at the coffee shop and this fell out of my head and it's nothing special, just another one of those weird first person monolouges I wind up writing a lot of. I'm going to post it because I don't know what else to do with it, really.

Here goes. Lets call itttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt uhmmmmm?? Faith. Let's call it Faith.


"Hooray! It’s time to wake up! Blessed be, the sun is shining. Thank you glorious Savior! Not, saviour! Like those filthy british folk spell it. Savior is splled without the U. Although the YOU is always inside the Savior! He bringeth thee to the table of children!"

That was my morning prayer this morning. I always take whatever I can and offer it up to our Lord and Savior, Jesus. He allows me to rise from my slumber like He rose from the grave, and so every morning I offer Him a prayer. I make them up each day, not every prayer has a script, you know. In the mornings, fresh from my sleep, I just tell Him whatever I have on my mind.
Last night I fell asleep while watching a Bible Picture, it was narrated by a horrible brittish man. His voice irked me. I’m amazed I slept as good as I did. That’s why I had that comment about the British folk in there this morning. That silly accent of his ruined my movie. Jesus didnt talk like that.

I have to go to the market today. I need apples. I go to MostroMart. I love it there. They have just everything you could need. It’s a lovely place.

Yesterday on the bus some sort of horrible man had some sort of horrible music running through the bus. I prayed on the bus. I prayed that he would be smoted for ruining my bus ride. I prayed and just a short five stops later, he got right off that bus, just like I asked Jesus. Jesus, deliver me from the evil of mankind. We know what they do.

I sing in the choir on Sundays. Singing to the Lord is like praying twice, they say. I bet Jesus appreciates my singing. That Helen though, she does play a piano awfully bad. I’ve been praying to Jesus to make her better, but she just hasn’t gotten the hang of it yet. I don’t know why Jesus torments me so. I’m a good person, He should do as I say.

Tomorrow I’m going to make my rounds at the Holy Temple of Faith. It’s a group of people that go around and bless buildings and trees and such. Just whatever we can get our hands on, we bless it. We take a bucket of water and just set to blessing. It’s thrilling. Last week we were out for well over fourteen hours. We were tired, but the Lord doth deliver naps. "And He say unto the wearyish let there be various nappery." John 8:11. I think that’s John 8:11. I hope so. If not, let the Lord edit His life book however He’d like. I certainly don’t care. I mean, I do, I do care. I don't mean to tell the Lord what he should do. Certainly.

I am right and just to walk the earth and bless those who need be blessed. The other day I was walking with The Holy Temple of Faith, just walking around, blessing things. We’ve blessed 80% of the major buildings in the city. We covered everywhere but the diamond district, as that’s where those dirty Jews live. We don’t want to waste good holy water on them. Most it’ll do is burn their flesh. Don’t say anything, but Pastor Bob has been working on a secret batch of holy water so holy that it’ll instantly convert those that touch it. It’s been a pet project of his for some time now, you understand. He’s had it in his basement for months. His biggest concern is that when the Jews come near they’ll smell it for evil and burn his house down.

But the other day we’re out there a-blessin. And we douse a fella right in his face. Lord, deliver us from the unbelievers. You should’ve heard the things that came out of his dark, evil mouth. Do not take the Lords name in vein is one of the commandments, I’m pretty sure it’s high up there on the list too, you understand. We had an emergency meeting around the corner and decided it would be best not to bless anybody in the face. At most we’ll spray the backs of their legs as they walk by. It’s a bonus besides, because then when they sit down, they’ll leave the Lord on the bus or wherever they rest their weary bones. Praise be. Praise be.

Once I got attacked by a bear and I prayed and the Lord delivered me from the bear. He was in my living room and he was on fire. I don’t know how it happened, but there he was coming at me not like a bear, but a bear on fire. I got right down to my knees and started my heart a-prayin. I’ll be darned if that bear didn’t drop over dead just as he was about to get his claws onto me. Thank you Jesus, for lighting that bear on fire and then striking him down at the precise moment that I suggested. You are my light, my protector, my extinguisher of bears.

I had fainted from the horror of it all. My friends found me later that afternoon. Apparently I had made it upstairs before I succummed to the emotion. I was on the floor in the bathroom under my medicine cabinet, which was open somehow. Not sure who opened it, but aparently it was gaping open and their was no trace of that bear. My friends had thought that I had fainted or had an episode or something like that. Thank You, Lord for cleaning up that bear and leaving my friends questions unanswered.

Nobody ever spoke of that incident ever again.

I’m going to the reptile house at the zoo today with the group. The plan is to break into the snake pit, and kill all the snakes. That way, should one of them be the devil, we will conquer all evil in a single stroke. We’re not quite sure how to get past the guards or how to kill all the snakes yet, but I’m sure Pastor Bob has a wealth of ideas.

We’re going to bless our way down this afternoon, smite evil, then bless our way back. It should be a nanny of a hoot. I’m excited. So excited. Oh Lord I’m so excited. It’s. It’s going to be sooo amazing. Too amazing. I’m getting too excited. Calm, Esther, Calm. Down. You understand how excited I get with the thought of smiting evil and doing all the glorious work that God commands me to do. Only upon doing him good shall I be looked upon favorably from the Throne of the Lord. High Praise be. Lord I am yours and you are mine. Do my bidding. Please.

When the devil is quite out of the way, I think it’ll be time for God to mosey on down and take charge. I figure he’ll either come down on a Chariot of Fire, a Chariot of White Light, or a Chariot of Lightning. Pastor Bob caught some of the lesser members of the group gambling on which it would be. Sinful. They were casting lots at the Chariot of the Lord. When the Trumpets sound, we will see where they wind up. My guess is they shatter to ash. Glorious ash. Then it will just be me and Pastor Bob and we’ll walk towards God and then we’ll all bow together. Everyone to God, and then God to me. Together. We’ll all bow together, you understand.

On the Bless Walk today, I’m going to say secret prayers for the rest of the groups deaths to be swift and painless. I know that they’re trying to walk the righteous path, but they’re just not pure souls. No fault of their own. God made them that way. And in His glorious vision, he decided I would learn something valuable in seeing them die in a haze of cinder. Like the time he killed my husband.

My husband died 20 years ago next month. Praise the lord. The lord does giveth and he doth taketh away. Our tiny minds cannot possibly understand how god works. We can’t. But I know that god took my husband because god needed him up in heaven. God needed my husband, and he wanted to teach me a valuable lesson about life. That’s why he took my George from me. I thank him for it every day. I know he thanks me for thanking him. It’s important that he took him from me, and it’s important that I know that god did it so that I could learn from it.

When god took my daughter from me, it was the same way. It’s just important to know that god is teaching me a lesson. Just making me a better person by taking things from me. Things that I had callously loved more than god. My love for others should be like hatred compared to my love of god. And it is. I hate everything.

There’s no way for people to know what God wants, what he is, what he thinks. But it’s important that you understand all of those things. That’s why I go on my daily blessing walks. We need to secure everything for God. All of these things are His, and this is just our way of making sure that He knows that we know that they’re His and we’re only borrowing them until such a time that we can be returned to Him in order to teach someone else a lesson.

And this afternoon when we try to conquer that pit of snakes, I might just do him one better and teach Myself a lesson. I’m going to jump into that pit of snakes. Jump right in. Pastor Bob had an idea for starting a fire down there, but I’m going to take My fight straight to the devil himself. I’m going to dive right down in there. Snakes be damned, praise be to Me. Then Pastor Bob and the rest will learn the lesson that God is eventually going to teach them anyway. Esther was too good for this world and not worthy of the harm that he put on Her. I’m sorry lord. I’m sorry. I will find that devil in that pit of despair and then I’ll see George and my baby again. And I’ll have taught My friends a valuable lesson in doing so, just as you would. Only in death can we see your beautiful message. Only then. First thing this afternoon, you’ll see, you’ll see My message and you’ll see Me. Just tell Me, you understand.


one foot feet

Wednesday, October 26, 2005


I promised for today, so I'll post what I have so far. I woke up with a very bad cold and I don't really have the energy to finish it out today. It'll be done at a later date. Here's some more Ian and Shane:

Tensions Run High

"Yes, Shane?"
"When should we start?"
"Soon. I’m not sure about how things are going to go from here Shane, I really don’t. And before we get started I want you to know, that whatever happens, I take full responsibility. This is all my fault. I’m so sorry. If things go bad, I want you to know, that you’re a dear friend and I love you very much."
"Yes, Shane?"
"I want you to know that I know that this is your fault. I knew that already. There was no need for you to tell me that and make me even more angry than I already am. I want you to know that I hate you, with all of me. With every bit of me, I hate you. And – "
"Well fuck you then shane,. I was trying to be good abou–"
"Fuck me? Fuck me? Fuck you, this is all your fault!"
"I KNOW! I just said that!"
"What the fuck good does that do? We know where we stand, you’re an asshole, and you got us killed."
"Well what do you want me to say?"
"I want you to say that you’ve got a way out of this. Tell me you have a rescue on the way. Tell me you have a shotgun. Tell me you can get us out of this. That’s what you should be telling me."
"Well I don’t have a way out of this."
"I know you don’t you’re a fucking idiot. I fucking hate you and we’re going to die. DIE, Ian. We’re going to DIIIIEEEEE. Save your apology for someone who isnt about to DIIIIEEEEE. I don’t fucking care because we’re going to DIIIIIEEEE. Fucking pay the fuck attention! We’re stranded in the middle of nowhere. Enough with the lovefest, get us the fuck out of here."
"You know, it was you who had the fucking heater running all night, you shane. Not me. You. You used up all the gas, AND all the fucking Pelligrino."
"Yeah, I’m glad I did that. Glad, if all goes well you’ll die of thirst and I’ll get to watch. And may I say, that was some of the best Pelligrino I ever had. BEST EVER. Delicious. Almost silky. It was delicious and I’m glad I drank it all and I’m glad you’re going to die."
"I’m glad you’re going to die."
"Not as glad as me."
"That’s right because I’m more glad!"
"I’m the gladdest."
"That’s not even a word!"
"Oh I’m so sorry, Mr. Dictionary it must be the Pelligrino talking!"
"Oh that’s real mature, Shane. Very mature."
"Fuck you, Ian."
"Fuck you, Shane."

"So Are we just going to sit here in silence and wait for death to come knocking at the door?"
"I’m working on a plan, Ian. It’s a solo mission."
"Oh really? A solo mission? Then I guess you wont be needing to stay in the car for much longer then."
"Well, no I do, but –"
"oh no. No no. I insist. Go on your solo mission. Go ahead. No get out. Get the fuck out of my mercedes X60"
"No but I’m not ready yet –"
"You look ready, Shane. You do, you look fit. Go. Go get it done. Go get out of here. GO! GO! GO! Get the fuck out! GO! AAHHHHH!!"
"Stop pushing, Ian. Stop it. Knock it off, stop it. Stop! You’re going to attract them. The whole car is shaking."
"OH I don’t even care anymore. Let them come! I’m ready to die! Ready. Why? Why would you go without me? Why Shane, Why? Don’t leave me here alone Shane. Don’t I cant make it, Shane. Please, shane. PLEASE!"
"Oh Ian. I was only kidding, it’s ok. I wouldnt leave, I wouldnt leave you here. I wouldnt. I promise. It’s ok. Shhhhh. It’s going to be ok. Cmon, pull it together. Don’t cry. I’m here. It’s ok."
"I’m just so frightened Shane. Just affraid. I’m affraid. I’m sorry."
"It’s ok, Ian. It’s ok. We’ll get through this. But now you need to be strong. I need you to be Brave. Ok? We have to think. We can get out of here. But it’s going to be tough. I need to know that you’re up for it."
"AH, sniff, I think, I think I’m ok. I’m sorry. I just lost control for just a second there. I’m sorry. I snapped a little."
"It’s ok. I’m sorry about earlier. There’s a lot of pressure. We’re just exhausted. We need to get home."
"Yes. I think we should work out a plan."
"You’re the plan man, shane. I’m following your lead."
"Really? You’re not going to go solo, then?"
"No. I’m with you. One hundred percent."
"High five?"
"High five.

Another plan.

"I took an inventory."
"Ok. What do we have to work with, Shane?"
"Empty box of Pelligrino. One pair of Denzos. Spare tire. Jack. Wallets containing zero dollars in cash and fourteen credit cards. A pair of keys. One Mercedes, gasless, black, X60, straight six, Fuel injection, turbo –"
"The car. Just say the car. I get it."
"The car. And that looks to be about it."
"Nothing very useful."
"Smoke signals."
"We could light the Pelligrino box on fire. We’ll take my jacket and use it to signal for help."
"Could that work?"
"It might."
"All right. I think it’s worth a shot."
"I think you’re right."
"We still have battery life, right?"
"My mercedes? It’s a mercedes, Shane. It could probably power the city."
"All right. Good. I’m going to need you to open the sun roof –"
"Moon roof."
"Moon roof. I’m going to need you to open the moon roof while I get the empty Pelligrino box out of the trunk."
"Ok. But be careful. Be quick. Be quick and be careful."
"I will. All right. On the count of three, pop the trunk."
"One. Two. Three. GO!!"
"Hurry, Shane. They’re everywhere!"
"I got it, I got it!"
"Quick, close the door. Quick.. Quick. Quick."
"Done. Done. Oh man. I got it. I got it. We’re fine. I don’t think any black –
"African Americans"
"African Americans. I don’t think any saw me. African Americans."
"African Americans."
"All right. So now we have to light this on fire. Moon roof?"
"Heh. Coat check. Remember that time we went to Spino’s for dinner and that Coat Check girl –"
"Later Shane. Focus."
"All right. This thing has a lighter right?"
"Shane, this ‘Thing’ is a Mercedes X60. There’s probably a blow torch in here, or one of those laser saws. Stop asking ridiculous questions of my Mercedes X60. It’s like you don’t even know where you are."
"All right. I get it. It’s a nice car. Let’s move on shall we?"
"Let’s shall."
"Oh Ian. Ian we’re in luck! Look, up in the sky!"
"It’s a traffic helicopter! Hit the lighter."
"All right. Here we go."
"All right......."
"It takes a second. Warms up."
"Laser saw, he says. How long does–"
Ping! "There. Here here you do it."
"All right. Just have to get it going."
"Start at one of the edges. There you go.Hold it upside down so it catches."
"Here it goes. Here it goes. Beautiful. I’ll tell you, nothing burns like a high class box."
"No sir. That’s german engineering for you."
"All right, Get my coat. Get my coat!"
"How do I–"
"Just waft it. Waft."
"All right. S"
"Did we do that right?"
"I don’t know morse code"
"Me neither. They’ll get the idea, I think."
"I hope so. Shane watch it. Watch the edges."
"I am, Ian. I know how to burn a box. It’s –"
"Shane! The edge dropped off. It’s melting my apolstery!"
"It’ll be fine. I’ll buy you more."
"Shane! Shane watch the roof."
"It’s burning too well, Ian. Waft, Ian, waft for all you’re worth!"
"I’m wafting. I’m wafting!"
"Watch my coat, Ian!"
"Fuck! It caught!"
"That’s my fucking coat, Ian!"
"Ah ah ah ah. Hot hot hot hot."
"What are you doing?"
"It was burning my hand."
"Why would you throw it in the back seat?"
"My fucking hand was hot. Watch the roof"
"Oh jesus Ian. The roof. It caught. Shit"
"Shit shit shit shit shit."
"Ian the car is on fire. It’s on fire. What do we do?"
"No! No more wafting! Fuck. Fuck. Get out Ian get out!"
"Out of the car? "
"Ian, get out of the BURNING CAR."
"It’s a mercedes X60!"
"What?? It’s a fucking fireball, Ian! Get the fuck out! Out. Now. Go go go."
"Oh jesus, Shane. Are you ok. Did you get burned?"
"No I’m fine. I’m fine. You?"
"I’m ok. My fucking car!"
"Fuck the car, look!"
"Oh my god, they’re everywhere, Shane."
"They’re coming towards us Ian."
"They’re attracted to the flames. Like moths Shane. They’re Moths!"
"Oh jesus. Oh sweet jesus. They’re too close. They’re too many of them, Ian."
"Shane, hand me that stick."
"Just do it, Shane."
"Ian, I–"
"I’m lighting it on fire, Shane."
Black guy: "oh my god, are you guys ok"
"Back you savages! Back!"
"Shane, what the fuck are you doing."
"Ian! Save yourself. Run Ian, Run! Back, savages. Get back!"
Black guy: "Stop swinging that stick around, you’re going to hurt somebody –"
Shane: "Get back you savage! Get away! Back! Ian! Ian! Go, run! Save yourself!"
Ian: "I won’t leave you"
Shane: I"m not giving you any choice. You have to go. Save yourself."
Ian: "I’ll never forget you Shane!"
Shane: "Go, now. Go. Please Ian. I cant keep them back much longer."
Black guy: "What are you doing? Get away from the fire, you crazy bastard."
Shane: "You stop talking voodoo! Ian Run!"
Ian: Run?
Shane: Run.

Ian’s escape!

Through the parking lot, get away from the crowd. Get away.

"back. Get back, savages."

Block him out of your head, he’ll be fine. He’s smart. He’ll get out of this. You’re on your own now, Ian. You just killed your best friend. Stop it. Stop thinking like that. There’s no time for that. He’s gone now. Save yourself now. Think clearly. You killed him he’s dead. No! No! No!
There. If I cut through the Kinda-Save's parking lot. Buy a Kinda-Save someday. I can go from the parking lot up to the overpass. I can flag someone down. I can hitch a ride and he’s dead and I killed him and he’s gone and I killed him I can get through this. I can get through this. How did I not realize that starting a fire in the car would be a bad idea. Overpass. Get to the overpass.
Run. Run. Remember your breathing. One foot in front of the other. Go go go.

Ian arrives at Shane’s house.

"Shelly is supposed to be here. She’ll want to know that her boyfriend is dead. And that I killed him. I killed him. I’m so sorry, Shane. I’m sorry. SHELLY? SHELLY ARE YOU HERE?"
"No. Not Shane. Ian."
"Oh Ian. Where’s Shane, he never came home last night we were supposed to watch a movie. And what’s happened to your clothes. You look awful"
"He’s. Oh jeusus, Shelly. He’s dead."
"What? What do you mean he’s dead."
"We went to go meet an African American and –"
"Why on earth would you do that?"
"We didnt have anything else to do, but listen –"
"he’s not dead, what do you mean he’s dead?"
"He’s dead. We were surrounded by black people and the car caught fire, and he fought them off, he bought me time so I could get away. He’s a hero. He’s dead and it’s all my fault."
"Oh my god, Ian. You bastard. You bastard, Ian!"
"I’m sorry Shelly. I’m sorry. They were everywhere and I – Oh say, do you have any Pelligrino."
"You bas– Pelligrino? Oh, of course."
"Oh boy am I thirsty."
"I’ll bet. Let’s get you some water."
"So Shane’s dead then?"
"From what I gather."
"Yeah. Good Peligrino. Thank you."
"Oh sure. I mean it’s not mine, but..."
"Best not to think of it. For now let’s just say that it’s our Peligrino."
"Yes. Ours. I think he wouldve wanted it that way."
"I think so."
"Is this couch Morrocan? It’s nice. Got a bit of a sheen to it."
"I think so. It’s a good couch. Are those Denzos?"
"No. Shane had a pair for me here though. I’ll have to find them."
"Oh yeah, root through everything. I don’t mind"
"I’m bored."
"Me too. Want to have sex?"
"Yeah. I think that’d be best."


"So I figure we should set up some sort of scolarship fund, or tribute to Shane."
"Shane, that guy I left for dead. We’re in his bed."
"Oh right. Right. Yeah, I mean whatever. Do what you want. I’m going to go hit the gym."
"Great. I’ll see what I can do with that."
"Can I have some money?"
"For what?"
"Just because. I would like some, please."
"Oh, yeah. My wallets on fire at the moment, but Shane probably has some money lying around. Go dig around."
"Oh, ok. Do you need anything from out?"
"No. I’m going to set up that scolarship fund, maybe throw a memorial in a few hours. You want to go?"
"No. I’ve got Yoga, and then I’m getting my toes done."
"Oh. All right. I’ll see you later then."
"You going to be here all day?"
"I hope not. I don’t think a memorial will take that long. I’m going to try to wrap up by three so I can get home and get a new car. I’ve got golf in the morning besides."
"I’ll see you later."
"No money, right."
"Not on me, no."
"ok then. I gotta go get a latte before yoga."

The memorial service.
Still more to come. As I said, too sick to work on it right now, the hottest girl I ever saw just walked by holy shit. It should be finished in the next few days. Once I heal. A lot of what's been written so far will be removed and such.
I'm going to go drink more tea and then maybe have some soup and watch a movie. Let me know what you think.

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

place holder

Ian and Shane was largely finished yesterday. I've got a few pages left and I'll post it. Then I'll edit it and repost it. I sorta hit a snag. Endings are hard for me, I get attached and I suck at feeling satisfied with conclusions. I don't really know why I'm writing this right now as I'm fairly sure nobody is checking this with wild abandon or even any regularity.

I'm hoping to finish up the writing tonight. Then maybe edit it tonight also. And then I'm going to start from the bottom of this page and work my way up on finishing everything. I believe that Sherpa is next in line. Then I'm going start posting pages of something else I've been working on that I like very much and is different from everything here. More serious. A little sad.

Also worth noting is that at the moment I smell pretty awful.

My feet are seriously One Foot Long,

One Foot Feet

Monday, September 19, 2005

Finishing up "Horror"

So the other day I wound up talking about horror movies with someone and I realize I never wrote the reason why I started writing "The Greatest Horror Story of All Time."

I figure I'll take some time I have at the moment to write the end, and completely avoid the middle section of the story all together because I don't feel like writing the middle, and this was really all I wanted to say in the first place. So here it is, the end of the "Greatest Horror Story of All Time."

Also, please excuse any glaring spelling errors. I wrote this in an email. There's no word on this computer.

The lights are still out. Thunder roars overhead magnified by the hollow echo of Laura's vast cottage. Rugged Dave, Selpathe and Laura sit huddled in the darkness watching home movies of the recently departed Henry David Thoreau in Laura's planetarium.

Giant pictures of Henry David Thoreau dance on the ceiling. Pictures of Henry David Thoreau doing crunches, studying String Theory, and skeet shotting. You know, kid stuff.

The trio is just getting to Henry David Thoreau's opera training, they are being washed over with his beautiful 8 year old voice. Rugged Dave has a hand on Laura's thigh. It's been slowly creeping upwards. Laura is crying loudly and pushing his hand back down. Selpthe wearing her goggles and doing a rubix cube.

Rugged Dave is getting increasingly angry that he will not be getting laid this evening. "Fucking kid dies and my dick stays dry." He thinks. He then remarks to himself that he should put that on a T-shirt. "Fucking millionare." He says outloud.

"What did you say?" Asks Laura.
"Nothing. Forget it. Watch the movie." Say's Rugged Dave, secretly wishing he had said something funnier and thus justifying two lines of dialog that don't need to exist.

The group is nearing the 3D section of the movie. They ready their 3D glasses and Selpthe sets aside her rubix cube and silently resigns to peel the stickers off later, making the cube inky black and complete in it's inky blackness. "NOW WHO'S STUPID!" She screams at the puzzle.

Selpth removes her night vision goggles and relplaces them with her 3D glasses. The scene that Laura had made into a 3D masterpeice is one in which he is having a baseball toss with Rugged Dave. Rugged Dave is hurling mighty fastballs to young Henry David Thoreau. Rugged Dave is clocking himself at about 94 mph. Henry David Thoreau is swaddled in catchers equipment and is taking fastball after fastball to the midsection, his 8 year old reflexes not quite up to the task of actually catching the ball.

Laura selected this, for it combines her two favorite people and the spectacle of having a 94 mile hour fastball virtually whizzing by your head every four or five seconds. Even now, in the midst of this horrible sadness it draws Oohs and Aahs from the three.

"I'm going with the changeup, little buddy." Says the three dimensional image of Rugged Dave.
"Yes sir. I am preparing my synapses for a lapse of judgement made by the contrast of the quick movement of your arm, vs the relatively slow aproach of the ball. All is in readiness." Says the little scamp.
"Here goes" Says Rugged Dave.
"Whamp!" Says the chest plate of Henry David Thoreau
"OOOOHHHH AHHHHHH" Says Laura, Rugged Dave and Selpthe
"Sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeessssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" Says an unidentified source

"What was that unidentified source?" Cried Rugged Dave, quickly removing his 3D glasses.
"SHhh" says laura, you're missing the best part

A three dimensional Rugged Dave is standing over the limp carcass of a three dimensional Henry David Thoreau. "Always think fastball, kid. Just because I say I'm going with the changeup doesnt mean I'm throwing the changeup. Last second changes are the name of the game. You get some ice on that you'll be fine."

"Tricked indeed, says I. My broken sternum is testament to that! Quite a ruse, Rugged Dave, quite a ruse, indeed! I must go tend to my wounds. Selpthe, ready my laboratory." He even says laboratory like "Lah boor ah tooree" I want to pinch his cheeks! Henry David Thoreau!

They all share in a deep belly laugh over the funny Rugged Dave joke. Change up? Rugged Dave doesnt throw Change ups. He throws nothing but heat all day long. All Heat All the Time! Never fucking forget that.

"SLllleeeeeeeeeeeeeeshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" says the unidentified source.
"I don't like that unidentified source." says Rugged Dave.
"It's probably nothing." Says Laura. It's probably a good time to mention that Laura was kicked in the face by a horse when she was a small child and never quite recovered her sense of danger. Much like I, your author, pines for a big breasted woman who was born without the use of her inhibitions, Laura lost her sense of danger at a young age. Hence all the brownies all the time, she's constantly making with the brownies. While this is impossible, one dares to dream, and since this is a horror movie, you're going to have to let some reality slip away even though that noise is fucking scary and even typing it as my asshole tight, she's fine. Get me? Fine. Don't fucking argue. Eat your fucking popcorn.

"It's probably just the Air Conditioning." Says Laura

"You're probably right" says Rugged Dave. It's probably a good time to mention that Rugged Dave once dated a ram. As such, he had to fend off other male rams who were bidding for his love's attention. Rams do this by butting horns at impossibly high speeds and impacts. Rugged Dave is rugged and did it with a trucker hat and a belly full of Shlitz. During this courtship ritual Dave's better judgement collapsed like a dwarf star and is now incredibly gullible to almost any suggestion made by women in a planetariums. We all have our crosses to bear, this was his.

"PUNCH YOUR OWN FACE!" screamed Selpthe.
Dave punched himself in the face, thereby proving a ridiculous point. Thank you Selpthe.
"WELCOME!" Screamed Selpthe at nobody in particular.


The planetariums 3D display was nearing an end and was currently displaying young Henry David Thoreau in a bath tub. He was rubbing at his chest which had several baseball shaped welts on it. He was delicatly dabbing at his wounds with a pink washcloth. When he realized his mother was taping from the doorway behind him, he quickly threw the washcloth at the camera which elicited one last "OOOHHHH" From the 3 person audience.

The screen went dark and the lights started to come up when Selpthe Screamed. "NOT DONE!" Laura was confused, she swore that was the end of it. The washcloth was wet and damaged the camera and she hadnt gotten another one down from her Digital Camcorder Closet yet. Afterall it was up on the fourteenth floor, and who's got the time to wait for the elevator?

But Selpthe insisted "LOOK!" and pointed at the ceiling, still wearing her 3D glasses. She remained seated and stared intently while peeling her rubix cube.

Rugged Dave and Laura looked skywards as the dark ceiling became illuminated with a faint green tint and "SLEEEESSHHHHHHHH" was heard again, this time much louder. The sound was coming from the cieling! More precicely, it was coming from the Air Conditioning duct!

"I told you, it was just the Air Conditioning" said Laura "Now let's go to bed after I make some brownies."
"You got it."
"I SAID LOOK" said Selpthe.
Rugged Dave's new orders came in and so he did, he looked towards the Air Conditioning vent. Suddenly the green tint grew brighter. Almost hard to look at. "OOOOHHHHH" Screamed Selpthe still wearing her 3D glasses.

The green tint suddenly shut off. And water gushed out of the vent. Impossible amounts of water. "I Guess the condenser went" said Laura, demonstrating surprising knowledge of her Air Conditioning system.

Water was pouring out. Gushing. The floor was now two inches deep with water when suddenly a black form flushed out of the vent and flopped on the floor in a formless heap. "AHHHH!"

The black form started to shift. Slow side to side movements, then it slowly took a stronger shape, and stood tall. It was a boy! He was facing the other way and was covered in small gashes. Small cuts bleeding rivulets of blood. He was soaked, only wearing black shorts and carying one weighted ring!

He turned slowly, the cuts were worse on the front of him. The blood was turning the waters red. It was Henry David Thoreau!"

"Henry David Thoreau!" Shouted Laura, full of surprise! "You're alive."

"Not quite, mother. Not quite." His eyes were cast downward allowing the shadows to fill his deep set eyes. His eight year old frame bleeding steadilly. "I've come for you, Rugged Dave. I've come for you."

"Fuck you." said Rugged Dave.

"You killed me, Rugged Dave. I'm here to return the favor." His dialog now trite and contrived because we're nearing the end.

"Did not."
"Did too."
"Did not."
"Did too."
"Did not."
"Did too." This went on for practically an hour because Henry David Thoreau is eight years old, and Rugged Dave didnt know what else to say.

"ENOUGH!" screamed Laura.
"OOOOHH AHHHHHH" said Selpthe

"He killed me with the weighted rings. The underwater fun game. They're 100 pounds. He threw them in, I caught one as it was floating towards the bottom, and it dragged me down to the the bottom of the very deep end where the pressure eventually killed me." Dialog is so quick and unlike the character now because he's dead! Why is he so different? Who knows?!

"The pressure! That explains the cuts!" Said Laura
"No." Said Henry David Thoreau "The cuts are from crawling through the Air Conditioning Ducts, they're full of metal screws. When air ducts are installed, screws are used to keep them in place. Hundreds of screws. Thus making travelling through them completely impossible and foolish. It's how they're built. So it never makes sense. Not ever." So precise! "But enough of the exact construction of air ducts and a giant plot hole, I'm here for you Rugged Dave. I'm taking you with me. " As Henry David Thoreau finished this line, he gestured behind him with a rubbery dead arm. A green portal opened behind him at his gesture. "OOOOOHHHHH!" said Selpthe

Screams poured out of it. Loud, haunting screams. "They're the dead. Like me. Like you. Come, David. Now is the time of your undoing." Suddenly he's back to how he used to talk, he talked normally just for the brief moments of exposition, and then he's back to his scampish, impish self. Someone get that sweetheart a taffy!

Henry David Thoreau pulled his right arm from behind his back revealing a scythe-ish curved blade. It was brown and chipped. It's as though the shape and condition of it made the threat of getting stabbed even more scary, even though gettting stabbed is getting stabbed and really, the asthetics of getting stabbed dont really result in your being more or less hurt. You get stabbed in the belly with one of those shoe cutting knives, it'll kill you and if you get stabbed in the belly with a rolling pin, it'll kill you. Same thing.

Henry David Thoreau held his weirdo knife at his side. He turned the blade over in his hand, cocked his wrist, so the blade was pointing directly to the right. The blade glinted faintly in the green light, he twisted it to add to this affect. Green. Brown. Green. Brown. Flashing terror in the eyes of Rugged Dave who advanced from the outer ring of the planetarium.

"I say, David, I always assumed your undoing would be in the planetarium. It fits." Said Henry David Thoreau, even though there was no clear way that it fit. He and Rugged Dave circled each other in the glow of Henry David Thoreau's mystical portal. They were close now, circling like lions, or rams. Rams is funnier. "Ever since that day you pelted me with those leather orbs, I've dreamt of this moment. Except, I wasnt dead in my dreams. But I was gutting you just the same. Like a fish. But now I'm dead, but, you get the idea, right? Me knife, you gutted. Now is the winter of our discontent, Mr. Dave. The Bell Tolls for Thee, Rugged fool! This is the Dawning of the Age of Aquarius, louse! It was the Best of Times for me, it is the Worst of Times for you, Rugged Dave! HAVE AT YOU!"

Henry David Thoreau lunged with all his might! He quickly closed the gap between himself and Rugged Dave, his knife held high in the air, screaming like a mad man he came in for the killing stroke!

"AHHHHHH" said Selpthe

Rugged Dave threw a Left Cross and crushed the face of Henry David Thoreau. The potal immediatly closed and Henry David Thoreau lay on the floor in a heap, holding his 8 year old face and crying. Henry David Thoreau begged for mercy, but Rugged Dave would have none of it. "Please sir, I was just kidding. With the portal and the death and the scythe and everything. I'm only 8."

Rugged Dave picked up Henry David Thoreau and walked him out of the planetarium. He carried him across the hallway and threw him straight throughthe 8th floor window. "Rugged Dave always throws the heat. Bitch." Said Rugged Dave. Mustering the corniest, barely relateable line he could think of. But remember I told you to remember that he always threw the heat? Huh? I did, because I needed to have some very obvious foreshaddowing. Actually, I needed something where people could say "Ohhhh right that's just like what he said before" even though there's no possible way you could take "Always throws the heat" and transform it into "OHhhhh, he's going to throw him out a window. See, because heat. He always THROWS it. Henry David Thoreau? He THOREAUS the Heat. You see? Fucking obvious, I knew the whole time. This movie is bullshit, when I get home I'm going to write a story about how stupid horror movies are and how fucking awesome I am."

Rugged Dave lit a cigarette and shaddow boxed for a moment. "FUcking 8 year old kid." He mused to himself. His words slight, but wise. If an eight year old kid is tormenting you and your family, punch him in the face. Throwing him out a window was a bit much, but really, just punch the little bastard in the face. You win. Instantly. Even if you're built like a dandilion and wearing a T-Shirt that says "Hopeless Romantic," take a swing. You'll win because he's 8 years old and his scull still mostly mush.

Laura aproached the window with caution because of the lengthy, underly stylized expository paragraph that just took place. "Do you think he's dead?" As she looked outside into the rain, down on the mangled carcass of her son lying dead on the pavement just north of the topiary maze.

"I don't know, baby. I don't know that we'll ever know. But yes he's dead. I threw him out the window after he caught the left cross." Said Rugged Dave. From that day forward Rugged Dave called his Left Cross "The Widow Maker" because he thought it sounded cool, and didnt know what the word Widdow meant.

Laura quit her job at the Media Company and began working at a miniature golf course to be near children. She brings home well over six figures a year.

Selpthe never did finish that rubix cube. She gave up after all the excitement and went back to her first love, Umpiring for the Milwaukee Brewers.


THE END, Selpthe. The End.

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

More Ian and Shane, Subject to Editing

I'm probably going to trim this down a bit and make a few other changes, but I'm in the home stretch of writing it now. I havent touched it since my last post. I just spent a little time with it today flushing out the story. I'm not sure how it ends yet, I'll be doing that soon.

Ian and Shane continued

“I knew you'd feel a little high after the first time. I know I did.”
“Woozy. It's not a good feeling really. More sickish than high. High is more fun.”
“Really? Do you want some water or something?”
“Do you have some water?”
“I keep Pellegrino in the trunk.”
“Good thinking. I think I'll have one of those.”
“Pellegrino is undoubtedly the best water on the water market today.”
“I agree. Is there a water market?”
“I think so. There should be if there isn't.”
“Could we make a water market?”
“Do you mean make a building where we sell water, or establish a financial institution based on following water trends?”
“Either or.”
“I don't see why we couldn't. But we should keep on with your black people training.”
“I think we've done enough for today. For forever for that matter. My eyes aren't fully adjusted after looking at him. I'm seeing black splotches everywhere.”
“No, there are a lot of black people behind me. Don't call black people splotches, Shane.”
“I wasn't. I just thought it was an after affect. And what did I tell you about calling black people black people. African Americans please, Ian.”
“Sorry, Shane.”
“So those are all real blacked people then?”
“Yes. Which brings me to our current problem. I'm not really sure what to do at this point.”
“What do you mean, oh keeper of the plan?”
“Well, we seem to be surrounded. I'm not sure that I can get us out of here.”
“Christ. You don't think they'll let us leave?”
“I'm not sure, Shane. There's probably some sort of tariff, or barter system just to get out of the parking lot.”
“They probably don't own the parking lot, the parking lot belongs to Denny.”
“Maybe, but in effect all Denny's belong to them. None of our friends have ever been in a Denny's. I don't even know if that's how you pronounce it. It might be Den-ays. Like that clever woman from 227.”
“Good show.”
“I thought so.”
“But if what you're saying is true, then how do we get back to Landville?”
“I'm not sure exactly, you kind of ruined everything.”
“What do you mean? Why? Because I passed out because you hit the horn even though you didn't tell me it was a part of your plan that you invented to meet black people even though I didn't want to?”
“No. You're wearing a blue shirt, and I saw a movie once on A&E that said blue angers them.”
“The color blue angers black peop -- African Americans?”
“That's what I'm told, Blue and Red. I'm not sure about it, probably something to do with Rods. Or maybe even Cones.”
“Rods and Cones?”
“Cells that make up the eyeball, different A&E show. But apparently in black people they're curved incorrectly. Leading to Rod's and Consey's or something. It's a disease. It makes them mad at colors.”
“There's no way that's true.”
“Are you going to argue with A&E?”
“No, but even Peter Graves is wrong from ti-“
“C'mon man.”
“No. I really think you're wrong.”
“Not a chance, and even if I am, do you really want to get them all mad at you?”
“No, but -“
“Then why would you risk it, Shane?”
“Alright, we should probably work out another plan. I need to get home. Shelly wants to watch a movie tonight.”
“Which movie?”
“Probably some artsy nonsense.”
“She's a whore, you know.”
“Fuck you, Ian, not right now.”

Back in the car

“This whole day has gone to shit, Ian.”
“I know that, Shane.”
“What happens if they don't let us leave?”
“I'm not sure. We might have to live in the car, and there is only so much Pellegrino.”
“Can we send for help?”
”I don't know. Our cell phones are useless out here. They don't have the same technology. I don't think so anyway.”
”Damn. Maybe we can tie a note to a pigeon.”
“If you gave me your house I wouldn't touch a pigeon, Shane.”
“Yeah, you're probably right.”
“Oh shit.”
“Look over there.”
“Is that a white guy?”
“I think it is.”
“Do we know him?”
“Probably. But he's on the other side of the parking lot and I don't think it's safe to move just yet.”
“Yes, Shane.”
“I'm a little frightened.”
“Me too, Shane.”
“Yes, Shane.”
“What if…”
“What is it, Shane, you can tell me.”
“What if we….catch black.”
“Don't you ever say that! That's impossible. That can't happen. It's been proven in laboratories. It's an old whites tale and I want you to get it out of your head, we're going to be fine! Just fine, Ok? I want you to say it!”
“We're going to be just fine!”
“Stop crying, idiot. You're going to attract them, they can smell fear.”
“They can?”
“Yes, like jungle cats.”
“Alright, c'mon, pull it together. Let's think.”
“What do we have that we can use to barter with?”
”Pellegrino. I've got shoes on.”
“Pellegrino needs to stay, if we're stuck somewhere else we could die right here in this Mercedes. And your shoes? C'mon Shane, think clearly. How would you get in your house from the car?”
“I could have Ilsa bring me out a pair of Denzos from my bedroom.”
“Denzos? When did you get Denzos?”
“Oh, I didn't tell you. I brought a few pair home from Italy last month, beautiful shoes. Smell like sun dried apricots somehow.”
“No kidding, I've always wanted a pair of those. Awfully expensive though, three large for a pair.”
“It's worth it, 3000 is a small price to pay for your feet smelling like sun dried apricots every day.”
“I do like a good apricot.”
“I know that you do. Which is why I brought a pair back for you!”
“Oh man, Shane! You didn't!”
“I did, I was going to wait until your birthday to tell you, but now it seems like we're going to die here, stranded in your Mercedes in this jungle of black --- African American people.'
“African American.”
“African American.”
“I appreciate the shoes, Shane. Hopefully I'll see them one day.”
“I hope so too, Ian.”
“What time is it?”
”We've been stranded here for 3 hours. There's no end in sight, Shane. We have nothing to barter with -- ”
“If only we had a chicken.”
“-- So we're probably going to die. I haven't had a latte since breakfast.”
“You didn't have a lunch latte?”
“No, I skipped it, I was feeling a little jittery from my morning latte/Jog.”
“Jogging is great.”
“Nothing like jogging with a latte. Maybe, champagne with yoga.”
“Really any type of drink with exercise is good. Or even Fresh Squeezed Orange Juice and free time is good. A bit less sophisticated, but it feels just as nice. Just a cool drink and free time.”
“I agree. But we're very far off the subject. We really have two options right now.”
“Which are?”
“Which are, we make a run for it, or we can sit here and wait for help to arrive.”
“How would help know to arrive? Nobody knows where we are, Ian!”
“Fuck. OH no. Not fuck! I've got it.”
“What, Ian, what?”
“I've got OnStar!”
“Ian, you lovely man. Hit it, let them know we're in trouble.”
“Here goes!”
“OnStar, this is Cynthia speaking.”
“Sirs, calm down, tell OnStar what's the matter.”
“Shhh, Shane, I've got it. Hello, OnStar, My colleague and I seem to be trapped in my Mercedes.”
“If the doors are locked, I can open them from here, but it would make more sense for you to just hit the un-lock button which is on your arm rest.”
“No no, OnStar, the doors are locked on purpose, we need a rescue squadron. Maybe call my country club, or Jerry on 9th street, he's my jeweler, he'll know what to do.”
“I'm afraid I don't understand sir.”
“Shane! I said I would handle this. Please, drink your Pellegrino. My friend is a little jittery, it's getting cabin feverish in here. We've been stuck in the car for almost four hours now.”
“I'm sorry sir, I'm not hearing the problem, are you out of gas, do you have a flat tire, is the engine dead?”
”Is the engine dead? Are you retarded? I said I'm trapped in a Mercedes. The engine doesn't die in a Mercedes, at most it ages, like fine wine or your better cheeses. Besides I'll have a new one before a fourth digit on the odometer pops up.”
“You hate four digits, Ian.”
“I do, Shane. It's the year 2k5, we can stop with all the numbers by now, I think.”
“I agree, tired things. Old fashioned. I don't have any twigs to count in my cave, professor old guy.”
“Sirs, Cynthia here -“
“Who the fuck is Cynthia, why are you in my roof?”
“OnStar, I'm OnStar.”
“Oh, OnStar. Someone named Cynthia just hijacked your frequency and -“
“Sir, if there's nothing else I can do for you, I've got other people to help with real problems.”
“NO! I paid good money for this phone! You help me, now. African Americans, as far as the eye can see! Is there any type of way to get out of this, can you send help, can you blast them from space with some sort of ray gun, or maybe make them sleep for a few minutes?”
”Thank you for calling OnStar, goodbye. Click.”
“She's gone. OnStar is gone. Forever. They must've gotten to her.”
”Yes, Shane.”
“I'm freakin out man! We've been in this car for too long, I cant breathe coughcough I'm frightened and cold.”
“Hang on, I'll turn on the seat heater.”
“You got a seat heater with this?”
“I did, it's great on cold days. And on warm days, it's cooled, which is beautiful. I would've paid a million dollars for this car just based on the high tech testicular temperature controls.”
“Oh there it goes, that's nice right there. Keeping the boys warm, they don't know they're about to die.”
“They're in a better place already, Shane.”
“Yes, Ian?”
”I think we have to make a run for it.”
“What time is it?
”I think it would be a mistake to leave at night. They could be anywhere, they'd blend in.”
”I hadn't thought of that.”
“I think we should just get some sleep, and see about leaving in the morning. They might not be out in the early morning sun. I think it melts them or something.”
“That's vampires, Shane. We've been seeing them all day in the sun.”
“Oh right. Well, then we've got one up on the vampires then.”
”Vampires are Asian, Shane, everyone knows that.”
“To sleep?”
“To sleep.”


“Ian. Ian wake up. We've made a terrible mistake!”
“Huh, Shelly….no… Huh? What?!”
“What the fuck, what are you saying Shelly for?”
“OH, I - uh. Dreamed about. Shells.”
“No, dick. You said Shelly. Not shells. What the fuck is going on?!”
“It's nothing, I had a dream about whores. I.E. Shelly.”
“Fuck you man, she's no whore. That's my Shelly.”
“She's a whore, she used to fuck Jerry the Jeweler.”
“So did your mother!”
“That's childish.”
“Ohhhh yeah, your mom had Jeweler Jerry all over her. All sorts of angles and ways and -“
“Shane, look at your Pellegrino.”
“Used to be like “Ohhhh Jeweler Jerry, got the diamond in his ballllls. And now I've got my own diamond in a way that no woman could -“
“Shane, stop it! Look at your Pellegrino!”
“-Probably going to need to go to the doctors, Jeweler Jerry, Gonna get that green shit all over me. Because your gold is sub par and turns green when it gets wet….oohhhhh Jewwwwwellllll Jewellllllller Jerry --- OHW! The fuck are you smacking me for?”
“The Pellegrino, it's shaking.”
“Yes, Shane. Do you know what that means?'
“The black fo-African Americans, they aren't hunting dinosaurs this early are they?”
“I don't think so. I think its bass. Look behind us.”
“Oh my god. The parking lot! It's full!”
“Denny's specialty is pancakes. It's a waffle house, Shane! We're in a waffle house breakfast at daybreak!”
“Good lord, we'll be sacrificed and used for syrup.”
“It's happened before.”


“Oh my god, I don't think we can make it until lunchtime. Wait, they don't serve lunch do they?”
”I'm not sure, I cant read the hours from here.”
“What time is it, Shane?”
“We've got at least five hours until we can et out of here, and even then we might not be able to leave until two, maybe even two. If they have dinner, it wont be until eight or nine. We should have enough Pellegrino to last us.”
“Ah, I don't know”
”No we should, Pellegrino is delicious, but if we can hold off and only drink about five bottles a piece until then, we should be alright. We shouldn't have to eat yet.”
“I don't really eat.”
”Me neither. I stopped eating carbs, and so I just cut out the rest of it too.”
“Same here. Who needs it? I've got a whole kitchen full of food that's just going to go right into the garbage.”
“I did that last week, I put a few stereos in the cabinets, the kitchen has surround sound. It's pretty sweet.”
“I hadn't thought of that, that's a good idea. No room is really complete without surround sound. Maybe throw a hi-def flat screen into the fridge.”
“Way ahead of you.”
“Very nice, I'll have to come over and see.”
“Yes. All right. So that's not a problem, no food, but we don't eat, that's not for us. But we're stocked on Pellegrino.”
“Well actually…”
”Delicious Pellegrino, a gift from the gods.'
“Well, god's don't really exist here in this parking lot, and neither does Pellegrino.”
“No, it does, I told you, there's a case in the trunk.”
“No, it doesn't. It's gone.”
“What do you mean it's gone??”
“I drank it last night, and then I used some of it to clean up this morning.”
“What? You drank 24 bottles of Pellegrino?”
“23, I used one to wash the boys. That heater works a little too well, I tried to turn it off, but I just made it worse, and I was afraid that if I tuned it to cool, I'd either give the boys a cold, or create a thunderstorm in my balls.”
“But what the hell am I going to do without it?”
“I don't know, you should've bought more.”
“Obviously, and I will next time, but 23 bottles Shane?!”
“Don't take that tone with me, Ian, don't act like you've never drank a whole case of Pellegrino.”
”No, I haven't Shane, that's insane, I don't even know how you could physically do it, and now I'm going to die of thirst while you've glutted yourself on our rations!”
“Call onstar if you're so worried.”
“They. Got. To. Her. She's of no help to us. OnStar is dead, Shane! It's dead! I didn't want to tell you, but they bit her on the neck and now she's black! That's what happens Shane! They bite you and then you turn into one of them!”
“LIAR! You said that was impossible! You said it couldn't happen!”
”I lied to protect you Shane! You didn't need to know! I didn't want to frighten you more than you needed to be!”
“Oh my god we're doomed. Doomed. And… what was that.”
“Why is my Mercedes shaking?”
“CALM DOWN, SHANE! They're not under the car. Not yet. But, it's worse than that.”
“How! How could it be worse?”
“We're out of gas.”
”What? We haven't driven the car in a day. How could we be out of gas?”
”I kept the car running for the air conditioner and the seat heaters.”
“You idiot!
“I didn't hear you complaining, all that talk about your balls, and how cozy everything was! “Ooh my balls, Ian, my balls. I heard it for an hour yesterday about your balls! How about now, your balls got us into this mess! You could've told me to turn off the car at any time so don't put this shit on me, Shane!”
“I didn't even know the Mercedes was on.”
“Of course not you idiot, it's a fucking Mercedes. It's smooth, Shane. Smooth!”
“Oh my god. I always knew I'd die in a Mercedes.”
“Well maybe not a Mercedes, but something high end. And if not a car, then a high end something else. Like my Duraunte. That's my bidet that I had installed.”
“Those are great. Like an ass massage. But without the shame.”
”Yes, Shane?”
“What do we do now? We're out of water, we're out of gas, we're out of air conditioning and seat heating. It's all falling apart! I was only kind of worried before, but now I know what fear is! We're going to die in this Mercedes, Ian! Die! I never got to have sex with three women at once! I never got to spend the night in the White House. I never got to have sex with three women at the White House!”
“Calm down, Shane! Pull it together! We're out of options, my friend. It's come down to one choice, we have one choice.”
“Eat my cell phone? That'll probably kill me somehow. At least I'll get to go out my own way.”
“No, asshole. We have to make a run for it.”
“Run? What are you an idiot? How would we do that?”
“One foot in front of the other”
“Yeah, that's funny. Glad you're here to lighten the mood, Jeff Foxworthy, but I'm deadly serious, deadly, as in, we're-going-to-die-you-fucking-idiot serious.”
“We'll what the fuck do you think I mean. We run. For the highway. We stick out our thumbs and hope an Accountant or a CEO Comes by and gives us a lift.”
“That'll never work, CEO's hunt drifters for sport, and you know that!”
“I know that, you know that, everyone knows that. We have business cards on us; we know the secret hand shake. We'll be back in Landville before you know it.”
“I guess it's the only way. I think we should rest up a bit before it all starts.”
”I think that's probably the best idea.”

The Journey Home

Sunday, August 07, 2005

Ian and Shane

There's more to this, it'll be posted later on.
Ian and Shane

"I don’t know any black people. I’ve never been near any."
"You’ve never been near a black person?"
"No. It’s just something that never came up. I grew up wealthy. I lived in a white neighborhood. Mostly jews. I’m not racist, I just don’t know any black people."
"You are a racist, you shouldve met black people by now."
"So I shouldve just gone up to a black person on the street and introduced myself because they’re black?"
"Something like that. Maybe at work. Or at school."
"I went to an all white school. I don’t work. I’m very wealthy."
"You should make it a point to go meet a black person."
"That’s ridiculous."
"Why is that ridiculous."
"I should take the day tomorrow and go find a black person?"
"So what would I say? I just walk up to a stranger and say ‘We should talk because you’re black.’
"Something like that, only be less of a dick about it."
"I’m not being a dick, the situation would be ridiculous. I couldn’t do that."
"I think you owe it to yourself to do it."
"I don’t really like people in general, I don’t meet people well. I get nervous."
"That’s your fault."
"Yes it is."
"Get in the car right now, we’re going to find a black person."
"Can we stop along the way for an eskimo, I don’t know any of those either."
"Don’t be a dick, get in the car."
"I’m not going anywhere, I’m enjoying my black person free day right here."
"Why do you refuse to meet a black person?"
"I don’t refuse, it just hasnt come up. I’ll meet one when it happens. I’m not going to force myself on the black community."
"I think that y–"
"Also, it’s African American isnt it?"
"Not the point, the point is –"
"you’re a filthy racist. Calling African Americans ‘black’ disgusting. I think you should leave."
"You’re such a dick, you’re the racist. I know black people."
"Yes you do. And you made it a point to do so, which is weird. And racist."
"How is that racist?"
"I’m not sure, I just don’t feel right about it."
"I feel great about it."
"Me too. Let’s not go anywhere at all."
"You’re annoying. Let’s go find a black person and get you two fixed up."
"We’re going to go hunting black folk?"
"Two rich guys are going to get into your black mercedes and then go grab a black person off the street so that I can shake his hand, maybe go out for coffee or something like that?"
"I think it’s the right thing to do."
"What time is it?"
"Alright. Let’s go russsle me up a black friend."

In the car

"Just remember when this goes sour, it was your idea in the first place."
"You agreed to go. I think it’s important for both of us."
"I think you’re retarded. I think that’s important for both of us."
"Such a dick."
"I’m bored. I only came because I was bored in the first place, this is even more boring."
"I’m enjoying myself."
"I’m glad."
"This is fun though isnt it? We’re coming down from our ivory towers and mingling with the common folk."
"Nope. I should be in the pool. Or with Shelly."
"Shelly’s no good for you."
"I’ll tell you what we shouldve done. We shouldve gone around back and talked to my landscaper."
"Why’s that?"
"He’s mexican. We couldve went halfs on the whole thing and you wouldve gone home and I would be in the pool or getting laid."
"Mexicans don’t –"
"Or in the pool getting laid, which would be the best option for today."
"Not a bad day right there."
"No sir."
"Oh hey! There’s a black guy!"
"There he is. What do we do?"
"We follow the plan."
"There’s a plan?"
"Yeah. I thought we went over the plan."
"I didnt even know we needed a plan."
"There has to be a plan, there’s always a plan."
"A plan for meeting black people? There’s a black people meeting guide?"
"I worked it out one day, it’s pretty solid. I’ll pull over, we should go over everything."
"This is ridiculous."

The plan

"Here’s the plan –"
"Should we get out of the car, I feel like it would be better if we got out of the car."
"I think you’re right."
"Be careful getting out your side, don’t get hit."
"Allright, so what’s the plan?"
"Are you ready?"
"I think so, I cant be sure."
"I know how you feel. Alright, here it is. We pull up alongside of a black guy, you say hello, we fucking floor it."
"Just say ‘hello’ then I’m going to step on the gas and we’ll be gone before he can react."
"I really don’t understand."
"Alright. You say "hi." I drive fast."
"No I understand the steps involved I don’t understand why those are the steps though."
"Which one?"
"Fucking both of them, Ian. ‘Hello’ is pretty simple for this grand ‘meeting’ you had planned. I thought I was supposed to make friends with a black person. And why are you taking off after I say hello?"
"I just didn’t know if you were prepared for the more advanced stages."
"I think I can handle it."
"Allright then. We pull up along side a black person and then we grab him and throw him in the trunk."
"That’s what you have to do. It’s the only way to really do it."
"To meet a black guy, I have to hogtie him and throw him in the trunk of your car."
"I never said hogtie, but I think it’s a good idea."
"I don’t even understand what’s happening."
"I think you owe it to yourself to hogtie and kidnap a black guy so we can make friends with him. I think it’s the best way of doing things."
"What time is it?"
"Alright, seems like we have the day anyway."
"Nowhere to be?"
"Then if we’re going to do this, I think we should do it right. I don’t know any other way of reasoning with black people."
"Me neither. I don’t even know any. Is this how it’s done."
"I believe it’s an african custom."
"I think you’re right, Mercedes Trunks are big in tribal rituals."
"Are they?"
"No, Ian. No, they’re not."
"They should be."
"I think it would be for the best."
"Let’s get back on the road."
Back on the road
"Yes Shane?"
"I think that you should explain the plan to me one more time. So I’m sure."
"I drive up. You get out, I get out, we grab a black guy, throw him in the trunk, we leave."
"Ok. I think maybe we should start smaller. Suddenly I’m not so sure of myself."
"It’s ok, Shane. We’ll take it slow."
"Let’s start with the ‘Hello’ first."
"Ok. I’m going to get off at the next exit, then we’re going to try it out. You see how it goes."
"Ok. I’m nervous Ian."
"You’re not good with people, Shane."
"I know. It’s no good."
"Alright, here we go. Here’s the exit. Here’s the first light. Right or left?"
"Chose your destiny, right or left?"
"Oh. Right. Always right."
"Alright, oh man! There’s one already. They’re biting today."
"Hello. Hellllo. Hey. Hi. Hiya. Howya doin.."
"What are you doing?"
"Practicing, which do you think is best.
"Just say hello, it’s not difficult."
"Yeah, but do you think I should do it more street like?"
"How do you mean?"
"Should I throw a ‘Yo’ in there or a "Waasssuupp!" or should I tell them where I live?"
"You’re ridiculous, just say hello."
"I’m nervous. They’re so dark. What if they don’t understand me?"
"It’s going to be fine. Alright here we go, there’s one there. He’s waiting for a bus."
"My stomach is off, maybe we should do this tomorrow."
"Now or never!! I’m stopping! Here he is, I’ll hit the horn."


"Shane! Shane! Shane?"
"Oh my god, what happened? Where are we?"
"We’re in a Denny’s parking lot. You passed out as soon as I hit the gas. How do you feel?"
"A little woozy."
"What happened."
"You didn’t stick to the plan Ian, that’s what the fuck happened."
"What are you talking about? I stopped, you said hello, I floored it."
"Oh is that what happened?"
"Yeah. That was the plan."
"Oh so where in the fucking plan does it say ‘Ian will honk horn?’ where?"
"I thought you realized we’d have to get his attention."
"How would I know that unless you tell me? You invented the plan, Ian. I didnt have anything to do with the plan. Actually, this whole day was your fault. I was perfectly happy not knowing black people. You shouldve fucking warned me."
"I’m sorry, Shane. I didnt think."
"No. You never think. Fucking horn, Ian? c’mon! I’m lucky to be alive."
"Jesus man I said I was sorry."
"Ahhh fuck. Fuck. It’s allright, I’m still a little shaken up. Did you see how black he was? And he was reading a paper. I couldnt believe it."
"It was amazing."
"Fuck man, it was exhilirating."
"I knew you’d do well."
"I think he liked me, I really do."
"I think so too."
"The ‘SIR’ was just ad libbed I didnt even know I was going to say that until it happened. It felt good though. Organic."
"I wasnt going to say anything until you did, but I thought the ‘SIR’ was magnificent. I didn’t see it coming."
"Pheew. Still lightheaded. Hah!"

Sunday, June 12, 2005

The Greatest Horror Story Of Our Time

The Greatest Horror Story Of Our Time

Laura Patrick lived alone in a quaint suburb of New York City in a simple seven bedroom, four bathroom, indoor pool having, vaulted ceilinged cottage. She earned a living working for a media outlet in New York City. It’s not important which media outlet, or even which medium. Let it be said that she works for a media outlet and makes enough money to own a house which she can later run full speed through without ever running from one side of the house to the other. Also, note the vaulted ceilings, which will come in handy for yelling.

Laura has had a saucy, off and on style relationship with Rugged Dave. Rugged Dave is a fireman who owns a variety of guns and ammunition. He loves Laura very much, but sometimes his manliness is too much for her to handle. He never shaves. But constantly trims his beard as to always have rugged stubble. Rugged Dave Stubble.

Oh and Laura has a kid from a previous marriage and Rugged Dave lives with his Creepy Aunt Selpthe. Slebleth. She’s from the old country. Aunt Suhbbleth. Sublet. Shelbath. Old Country. She’s always swathed in blankets and talks in a so high a tone that it is reminiscent of metal being torn asunder and is prone to screaming single phrases, from which, one could see glimpses of the future. Or maybe she’s just crazy. Either a telepath/soothsayer or just crazy. One or the other. Shelpehtsk.

Today Laura has planned a barbecue and swim-about at her indoor pool, which is located in section 7A of your readers companion "Map of Laura’s House."

Laura is sitting pool side drinking an Atomic Margarita. She is happy. She sips and watches Rugged Dave cook an elk on her pool side grill. Her son, eight year old Henry David Thoreau, is swimming, but is careful not to go near the very deep end. He’s tossing those weighted rings under the water and then diving under to fetch them, as this activity is the most hypnotically entertaining pool activity known to mankind. He’s a very strong swimmer.

"Mother. I’ve yet again captured yon rings. I felt you should be alerted to this new development." He’s so precocious.

Selpthe is in a rocking chair swaddled with blankets and seems content. "CONTENTMENT ABOUNDS!!!" She screams. Everyone has a good laugh over this, just another one of Selpathe’s scathing social commentaries about how happy everyone is right now. And how perfect everything will always remain forever.

"More elk?" asks Rugged Dave while sharpening his Bowie Knife on his arm hair. "Yes please" says Laura, who loves anything elk. Last year Rugged Dave escaped from her house and in the morning she awoke to find that he had left her an elk on her doorstep. The gesture scared her until she was assured it was a present. Since then she was hooked on elk and Rugged Dave. His gesture of kindness was all that she needed and knew she had found a soulmate and possibly a father for her son Henry David Thoreau, whose biological father will never be mentioned in this story. "WHORE!" screams Selpathe but nobody knows why.

Laura takes the awkward silence as the perfect time to ask "Who wants brownies?"
"MEEEE!" says everyone else, because everyone always wants brownies.

"I’ll be back in a few minutes with the brownies. While I’m gone, don’t let anything change for the worst very drastically."

"Mother. Your sentiment is asinine. I feel you are a goose. A silly one. Dissemination of brownies will not, should not, could not, change the landscape of our afternoon. Please. Off to the brownies with you." said Henry David Thoreau. What a scamp!

And so Laura went to fetch some brownies.

"SUNGLASSES HUT! SUNGLASSES HUT!" Says selpath, evoking the name of her favorite store to buy sunglasses. Or maybe something else entirely. Maybe some secret meaningful glimpse into the future!

"Hey slugger, you want some elk? I mean, vegetarian shmeginarian? Right? I took this baby down at fourteen hundred with some buckshot that I threw....slugger?" Rugged Dave turned around very slowly towards where the camera would be if this were a movie as to slowly reveal the horror on his face, even though in a situation like this, every second counts, although, so does drama. Rugged Dave’s eyes fell across what could only be described as: The Pool. But nowhere in that pool was Henry David Thoreau, son of Laura, and certainly not the author of "Civil Disobedience" who has been dead for quite some time.

Rugged Dave sprang to action. He ran four paces and then swan dove into the pool. "GREG LUGANIS!!" screamed Selpathwek, noticeably impressed by her nephews diving prowess.
"Brownies!" Laura announced as she finally returned from the brownie closet. She looked around and was curious to not see her son or her boyfriend. "Selptthhhheee where is everybody?"

Selpthhhee stirred and looked at Laura with her cold, haunting eyes, and in her prophetic tone of mystery screamed "I DON’T KNOW, WASNT WATCHING!"

Laura read this sign correctly from Selpthe that her son and boyfriend were both under the water because "oh my dear god, Greg Luganis almost drowned when he hit his head on the diving board after a miss judged dive because he wasn’t watching what he was doing and now he sponsors sunglasses hut. The place to go for low sunglass prices. My son and boyfriend are drowning!" she screamed!

"WHAT?" screamed Selpathe, clearly confused.

Just as Laura was about to spring into action, bubbles started to appear from the very deepest end of her pool. Slowly at first, then more quickly, someone was approaching the surface. Seconds ticked by as the bubbles got closer and closer and Laura and Selpathe nervously chewed delicious brownies. "CREAM CHEESE???" asked Selpathe wondering about the origins of the chewy-gooey texture of the brown taste explosion.

Then just like a Rugged Dave emerging from the water, Rugged Dave emerged from the water. He was holding five weighted rings and the limp, lifeless carcass of Henry David Thoreau. The kid, not the brilliant author of "Walden Pond."

Rugged Dave immediately began CPR. Five chest pumps, and then a strong steady breath into the mouth of the drowned child. Five pumps. Breathe. "One, two, three, four, five. BREATHE! Goddamned kid, breathe! BREATHE YOU COCKSUCKER!" Rugged Dave was delirious with anguish and possibly suffering from the Benz from coming up from the depths of Laura’s Media Outlet Financed SuperPool. But try as he might, the child would not resssusitate. recessitate. Resuscisate. "RESUSCITATE!" Thank you. The child would not resuscitate.

Laura screamed into the vaulted ceilings "WHY GOD WHY!" and other haunted screams that are tiresome to write and painful to read.

Day fell into night.

Laura was finally asleep, exhausted from screaming things repeatedly that I refused to copy down for the sake of you, the reader. Over and over for seven or eight hours, she screamed into her vaulted celings, bemoaning the fate of her son.

She stirred occasionally, ‘why so deep?’ in reference to her two hundred foot deep - deep end. Entirely too deep for any deep end. It was like someone had constructed a lake in her house for the sake of tying in the fact that there’s always a creepy body of water in modern horror films. And socio-economically disproportionate housing and then combined those two in a way that was more distracting than funny.

Rugged Dave watched over her, a soliloquy perched on just the other side of his lips. Ready to spring forth. A soliloquy that would vault him into the highest echelons of soliloquy givers in times of great sadness. He would climb the ranks of those that have gone before him in great impromptu speeches given while "nobody" could hear. Rugged Dave glanced upwards, a single tear in his eye and said: "Fuck."


Light from Laura’s bedside reading lamp fell over her and kept Rugged Dave from sleeping. Kept him from screaming. It had been one of the worst days of his life. A child dead. A horrible storm washed out the roads and cut off all communication with the outside world. An elk gone to waste.

Oh. While day was "falling into night." A big storm came and knocked out all the power and washed away all the roads. Effectively trapping our four characters in the giant house with the dead body of Henry David Thoreau!

"RIDICULOUS!" screamed Selphethe

Selpthehehs scream reminded Rugged Dave that he hadnt checked on his beloved Aunt in a while. Her room was just down the hall from the master bedroom so Rugged Dave figured it wouldnt take much to check on her. He quickly ran to the escalator and went down to her room. He gently tapped on the door as not to wake her if she was sleeping. At the slightest touch the door creeped open and made a horrendous squeeking sound. "SQUEEEEEEEEEK!" said the door as the metal hinge grinded itself open despite it’s being opened with not much more than a tap. Thereby being well lubricated enough to open with a faint tap, yet not well lubricated enough to not sound like a vault door made of bones and evil.

"Aunt Shelpthe?" said Rugged Dave. "Aunt Shelpethe, where are you." In the distance of the room he could hear the faint creeking of that goddamned rocking chair she made him take everywhere.

"Aunt Shelpthe is that you, in your chair?" Again no answer. Dave felt along the walls to find a lightswitch, a lamp, a candle, a torch, a match, anything that would illuminate this hideous darkness. This creepy milky darkness. He continued to feel his way along the wall. Still nothing. He keeps feeling and feeling and feeling and still. Nothing. And oh man is it dark. Dark and because the damned wall is so big it’s taking forever to find the fucking switch. Man is it dark and tense and taking a while. AAAAAnnnnddddd there it is! Instinctively his hand went to his knife, in case of mysterious troubles in the dark. He took a deep breath. Then he threw the lights.


Standing no more than four inches in front of Rugged Dave was a Masked Villian!! A white cloaked monster with a horrible metal face! A green, bug eyed mask of evil! Dave pulled his knife and slashed at the air wildly to subdue the screaming Masked Villian!

"AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" Screamed the attacker and fell to the floor in a clump. Bleeding from both it’s arms or what may yet be revealed as tenticles or wolfman paws or fiery wings!! Dave didn’t know which of these things it was, but he was sure it was one of those three and one of those three alone.

He rushed over and was ready to deliver the sweet killing stroke! He stood above his attacker and said "see you in hell, meat bag. Any last words?"

"NIGHT VISION GOGGLES!!!!" screamed the heap.

"Wha-" Dave bent down and rolled over his attacker to discover his his bleeding attacker was none other than....SPTHEHTHETH!!

Why, it was old Sphteheth all along! That googley eyed monster wasnt anything more than his Aunt Splethehth in the night vision goggles he got her for her birthday. Silly Rugged Dave and his stabbing.

"PRICK!" screamed Spechialtits who was just doing some late night night-vision-goggle reading. Or as she called it "VISAGOGOREADIN!" screaming a mushy word as she’s known to do.
Everyone’s heart was beating pretty quickly. After all Dave just turned on the lights to discover a Masked Villain staring him dead in the face and then with all the stabbing that went on it’s easy to see how everyone would be a little keyed up. Jumpy.

Dave tucked shepehellchek back into bed and went on back up the escalator to his room, amazed that he nearly jumped out of his skin for no reason. And also he almost killed his aunt with a knife. But hey, thank god it’s Friday!


That's all of that. And by all I mean 'enough.' That's enough of that. I could keep it going, but I really dont want to. There are some funny things in there, but it's not enough to really work on. Unlike Sherpa, which still needs finishing.

I like the size of the house, that makes me laugh, also the size of the house was really just a way to build dumb suspense. Everything being so big made it nessiscary to draw out descriptions. Naming the kid Henry David Thoreau was strange and funny because it makes him sound that much more refined and inteligent, but mentioning his father is probably confusing 'is he saying that thoreau is his father?" I wasnt. "CREAM CHEESE?" kills me. But enough is enough on that. Maybe someday far away I'll write up an ending.

Also, the thought behind "Spelbthah" is just that I wanted a very appropriate name for the creepy aunt and didnt come up with anything so I just mashed out something as a place holder. Spelpthe. Shelpath. Spellshack. Nothing good came out. So I just kept mushing it further as I went, hoping that would be funny in itself. But it isnt.

Also, I like any time where I start writing my thoughts of the story insde of the story. "...which was more distracting than funny." I just enjoy doing that and I dont know why.

But it doesnt really function as a story, so it's not worth saving. Neither are other entries on here, but this one in particular set out to be a start to finish story type story and it doesnt work as such so it can eat my ass.

Worth mentioning is that these four pages probably took me three hours to write whereas "Jackson Street" Took maybe an hour "Meathead' Less than that. They're all first drafts but this one didnt really come as easilly as I thought. Also problematic was that I had an idea for what I wanted to write here and both "Jackson Street" and "Meathead" and, for the most part, "Sherpa" all just sort of fell out of my head.

By the way, all of this post-writing-writing, is me trying to pick apart why things did or didnt work for me. So please feel free to never read the post-writing-writing. It's a post-mortem that I can look at later and remember how I felt about the writing at time of post and then how I feel at time of Re-read.


Thursday, June 09, 2005


This is just a quick random thing I wrote at work one day. I ran out of things to do and I really didnt feel like asking for more work so I looked around the office to find something to write about. Eyes landed on Lightswitch and off it went. It's titled 7.50 Because that's exactly how much money I earned while writing this for one half of one hour.

I found it just now wihle going through some old emails. I forgot this ever happened. Enjoy...


The light switch on my dining room wall is broken. It broke on Friday morning during a routine football match versus my neighbor, Henry. My head struck the cover plate when Henry speared me from the other end of the dining room table. These things happen.

When I came to Henry was standing over me and it was beginning to get dark. Henry was apparently annoyed by the gathering darkness and decided to turn on the light, using the light switch that was just recently destroyed by my head and his well placed tackle.

Henry hit the switch and immediately shot twenty feet across the room.

Henry was buried on a Tuesday while I was at St. Helena’s Hospital recovering from my football injuries. Henry was a nice man and a hell of an indoor football player. I retired his uniform, which was his red tie, blue shirt and khaki pants. He didn’t dress well. I never said that he dressed well.

If I were able to walk or speak at the time of his burial I would have told everyone about his football prowess and his inability to color coordinate. It would’ve been nice of me. But I couldn’t because my head had to be tied to my torso which then had to be tied to a bed. Pretty image. Apparently during my heads breaking of the dining room light switch I shattered my collar bone and would have to sit out the remainder of the indoor football season. It’s just as well; the entire rest of the league had been killed during a freak light switch accident.

While in the hospital I met exactly forty two nurses of varying shapes sizes and skill levels. They all basically came in to give me food and adjust the ties which were holding my head to everything in reach.

I had a dream one night that my head was tied to every single thing in the room. I was happy to find that this wasn’t the case. When I woke up I said “Phew! My head is only tied to two things.” Which, really, doesn’t make much difference as far as head tying goes. Once it’s tied to something, it could just as easily be tied to everything else in the world, and the same affect will be achieved.

I hope someone fixes my light switch, with all the death and head tying, it’s easy to forget about the important things. Besides, what would happen if I get my head free, break out of the hospital, decide to enjoy a nice evening dinner on my seldom used dining room table, turn on the light, and no light comes on? I’d have to eat in the dark. What if I dropped my fork?