Money

"Hey I was a little short and the bank was closed so I took some money out of the envelope. I'll put it back in the morning."

"You were out of money? How'd that happen? I told you not to spend all your money on stupid shit like those silly comic toys."

"I'm out of money because I switched over to direct deposit so that I could start saving more money and haven't gotten around to the bank because I was busy making you money. And they're statues, not toys."

"How much did you take out of the envelope?"

"Two thousand."

"It's eight o'clock at night what the fuck do you need two thousand dollars till tomorrow morning for?"

"I've got some business to attend to."

"There are going to be more toys in my office tomorrow morning aren't there?"

"It's my office...and they're not toys."

"Son of a..."

Huh?

"I've got this sharp pain right here. It's like, holy shit it hurts."

"There's a meat timer jammed into your skull."

"Yeah, yeah. That would do it."

~

So despite several great starts (and I mean great starts) I haven't posted since Monday. I know it's only Wednesday but things have been so busy it seems like a hell of a lot longer. My old man is leaving tomorrow for Florida again. It was good to see him, it will be better to see him leave. I've been playing GTAIV quite a bit since I got it at midnight on Monday. The multiplayer is a lot of fun, the single player is wicked but I haven't gotten that far yet. I'm exhausted and working late tonight, but it's not so bad.

I'm in a bit of a mood though.

I stumbled upon the beginning of a poem I began to write not too long ago and it struck me today in a way that seemed drastically different from the way it seemed when I was writing it. I might actually be able to finish it now...but I don't know if I want to.

It's been awhile since I've seen any of the guys (it feels longer than it's been), I saw the Antioch crew just a few weeks ago but it seems like years at this point. I'm just...tired. For no good reason. Tired.

It's not even that I'm in a bad mood, it's that I'm in a good mood with quick and unpredictable downswings. But even those haven't really been putting me in a bad mood. It's friggin' weird.

So anyway, I'm sure I'll level out in a bit and get back to normal (or whatever it is I usually am) but for today I'm just going to muddle through, bust my ass to get through tomorrow and then, at eight o'clock tomorrow night...

IRONMAN!

I've already got the tickets for me, the rookie and little sister. And if anyone from Youth Ministry actually gets back to me I might end up seeing it twice this weekend.

Yeah, I'm a geek. And excited. What are you going to do?

Till tomorrow...

Mooooooonnnnnnnddddddaaaaaayyyyyy (Long Day, Get It?)

So yesterday I went to the Youth Day at Delbarton. Bishop Seratelli was there and I found him to be eloquent and inspirational. I like him a whole lot more than I liked the last guy. Father Bogie was there too, and it was real good to see him. There were likely more than 1,000 kids there yesterday and even though my group was only 7 (including me) I'm glad that we got to go and be part of it.



Even though a good part of it totally sucked balls.



Anyway...I may have mentioned that I ordered all four Iron Man helmet variants from Windlass last week. These are not small pieces we're talking about here, but they won't be here till July so I have some time to come up with both the space and the money for them. Between that and the fact that the movie comes out on Thursday I've had a total geek hard-on for the last week or so. Top that off with Grand Theft Auto IV coming out tonight and you might as well just shoot my productivity in the ass for the next three days.


I know I'm such a goob.


Bad thing is I pre-ordered GTA months ago from the Gamestop website, paid extra to make sure it's here first thing tomorrow. And now they're jamming me up saying it won't be here till the end of the week because they had a problem with billing. Now I could wait, really I could, but they still want to charge me like $30 extra for the special shipping. I ain't having that. So I cancelled my order. And it's practically sold out everywhere. So now I've either got to wait weeks, or run around like a mad man to try and find a pre-order ticket by midnight tonight. You know me. Guess which I'm about to do?

I've loved GTA since Part I back in the day. And it's only been getting better.

So me and The Rookie (who I practically have custody of at this point) are about to book and hunt down GTA and Mario Kart. Wish us luck.

His Name Is Robert Paulson

It feels like I got punched in the fucking head.

So last night, after a long and unforgiving week, I found myself sitting in my recliner at 7 P.M. reading comic books and watching the Rangers game. My allergies had been all ablaze for the past few days but they felt like they were getting worse. I was none too happy about this. I fell asleep midway through the game and woke up just about the end. I don't know if I felt worse because the Rangers lost or felt worse just because I felt worse.

There was this ridiculous pounding behind my right eye and my head felt like it was about to explode. I could barely breathe and I just kept thinking "This is allergies?" Every year they seem to get worse. I don't usually take medicine for them because it doesn't usually work but right about then I was willing to try anything. So at 1 A.M. I through some filthy clothes on (everything else was in the laundry) and headed out to CVS.

It's dark out but I can see the pollen on the ground in great green and yellow splotches, hell I can see some of it floating through the air. It's friggin' killing me. I'm tired and can't see straight so I'm driving a vehicle built to kill indiscriminately half dumb and blind. I feel slightly guilty about that but my guilt is assuaged by the fact that I think my head just exploded.

I hit the pharmo section of CVS hard looking and buy some pills and nasal spray that both start with "Z" because the only thing better than medicine that ends with an "X" is medicine that starts with a "Z". Unfortunately I couldn't find one that started with a "Z" and ended with an "X". At least not one that would have helped my allergies any.

This shit had to be good because I had to show ID to buy it. That means you probably can get high off it, which is good to know in a pinch. I also had to sign for it, but seeing as I couldn't think straight I have no idea what I signed. It could have said that Zyrtec causes cancer and the growth of a third ball and I probably would have signed happily because the alternative at this point is to drill a hole in my head and let my brains leak out. I pop a pill and hit the spray as soon as I get outside washing it down with some shitty apple juice. I drive home debating whether or not to pop a second pill just for good measure. I decide against it. Praying for rain.

I can't make it to my bed so I drop into my recliner and lay there miserably for an hour waiting for the meds to kick in. I hit the nasal spray again. I feel worse. I finally pass out feeling totally miserable. Weird dreams ensue.

Letter writing? Bocce Ball? Topo-fucking-Gigio?

Have one of those weird moments where dream segues into reality, wake up and literally say "Oh Wow." out loud.

The pressure has let up, it's just rained outside. I stumble into my bedroom and pass out again. I wake up to a noise that sounds like a bird chirping. My first thought is that my alarm has gone funny. It hasn't. My second thought is that I set the alarm on the TV or microwave. I stumble around, vision all blurry trying to find the source of the sound until I realize...it's a bird chirping...outside. I throw the same filthy clothes on from last night and head out the door to work.

Good morning y'all.

Salutations and Greetings.

Hello.

My name is Christian.

Some people call me Thomas. or Bobby. or Edward.

I've been known as King, Kong, Rigby, The Beast, Lazarus, Hob, TheOldHob, Futurerem, CKNK, Sarge, SGT, Chubbs, Sgt.Chubbs, and Paddy.

I was PigHeart for awhile. The Angel for a spell.

I've been called Dad, and Mom, and Papa Chris.

I avoided being Johann by a hair.

I've been known as Sinner, Ghost-Be-Gone, He Who Haunts Your Dreams.

I was The Force, Big Beelzebub, St.Christopher, Steve from Brooklyn, The Other Yitzhak Rabin, and for a second, somewhere in there, I was just plain Chris.

Usually I'm Palomba.

So though I be a man of many names, in truth I have just one.

I.

And boy is I fucked.

Hey Now.

Ha...yeah, so. Last night.

Where do I start?

So the old man came back as I mentioned, but I dealt rather well with it. I headed home about 9:30 leaving quite a bit undone, but figuring I'd get in early in the A.M. and take care of it. This was not to be. I read some B.P.R.D. comics to unwind for a bit, cleaned up and went out for a drink by myself.

Three things you need to know. First...I never really go out for a drink alone. If I'm by myself I either go somewhere I might run into people I know, or I go to a go-go bar where I may be familiar with a few of the girls. I know, I'm a schmuck, but bear with me here. Second...I've stopped hanging out in strip clubs and go-go bars altogether lately, except when I know a certain girl is working. I may stop in and say hello to her. Not for any specific reason except that when I've got nothing going on and need to relax she's sort of fun to talk to. Seriously. I'm the worst straight man in the known universe. Third...as I pulled into the bar last night my "low gas" light went on. Remember that. It will be important later.

I was in the bar for maybe an hour. I was exhausted, but feeling pretty good when I left. She teased me on my way out about whether I was going to sleep in my office again tonight or if I'd actually go home. I decided to check in at the yard and see if the dog had escaped again, and then head home. When I got to the yard at around 1 A.M. everything was quiet. Everything was as it should be.

So I'm driving home when I hit the hill on the Rea Ave. Extension. I'm halfway up when suddenly the car sputters...and dies. Fuck.

I can't figure out how I ran out of gas so quick, but I figure between running the AC and the gas sloshing back in the tank on the steep hill that there's just nothing getting to the engine. I decide that I'm going to roll the Hummer backwards down the hill till I get to the gas station at the bottom...over half a mile away.

Not one of my more brilliant ideas granted, but there's no way to turn this thing around and the back-up camera is still working, so I figure I'm good. The gas station is closed, but I can leave my car there until morning without a problem. I make it, I don't know, maybe 50 feet before I see headlights coming up the hill. I stop and pop my four ways on, the other cars puts his lights on...all of them...particularly the red and blue flashing ones. Yeah. Fuck me.

So the officer pulls up next to me and goes, "Car trouble?" To which I want to reply, "Nah, I just always decide to roll down a steep hill backwards at about two in the morning." but considering the circumstances actually reply "No sir. I think I'm out of gas actually." When he stops laughing he offers to call a tow truck, I call the guys I use instead and clearly explain to the girl that I'm driving a hummer, and am out of gas. When she stops laughing she says she'll send someone right out. I've rolled the car off to the side of the road, but the cop is concerned that on the hill in the dark it still might cause an accident so he stays with me his lights flashing all along. I apologize for wasting his time about a hundred times, but he seems like a nice kid and doesn't bust my chops. Suddenly I think, "Thank God I didn't run out of gas in the middle of Paterson." Because that would have really sucked, I say this out loud. The cop and I both laugh, he makes a wise crack, we both laugh again. As we're laughing I think, "Holy shit. Thank God I didn't run out of gas in the parking lot of the go-go bar."

Now I'm laughing really loud and the cop must be thinking "It wasn't that funny."

The tow truck shows up. It's too small to tow my truck, I ask if he brought gas like I asked. He says they didn't tell him. The cop and the tow truck driver give me a push and we roll the car to a safer spot, the two truck driver drives me to the other side of town and a 24 hour gas station. we get two gallons of gas, which may or may not be enough to start my behemoth vehicle, and head back to my truck. Only problem? The spout on the gas can is busted. We can't pour the gas right. We (and by we I mean the tow truck guy) finally manage to rig a spout using pieces of cardboard and magazine and get maybe half the gas can actually into the tank and the rest onto the truck itself. I shoot back to the 24 hour gas station, fill up, and buy a few bottles of water to clean the gas off my truck. The station attendant is laughing at me having realized that I was the guy who just showed up in a tow truck.

So over the course of a few hours I'd been laughed at by go-go dancers, police offers, tow truck drivers, and gas station attendants. You can imagine I was feeling pretty good about myself right about then. It was past 2:30 A.M. so I decided to swing by the office and check on the dog again since I was only a few blocks away. Sure enough there he was running down the street towards the junkyard. But this time we were able to see where he had escaped through and will hopefully be able to block it up.

I got home, crashed for a few hours, came back to work. Things were going smashingly, note the written sarcasm. I headed over to Dunkin' Donuts for my daily smile and large hot chocolate and began to feel much much better about the way the world was going.

So...what's next?

Behind Door #3

Last night I had the strangest dream I've had in quite awhile. I'll spare you the details but it involved me and a kid I knew from high school who happened to be dressed as Buzz Lightyear escaping from a mob on a slightly deranged version of the Rutgers Campus. That will be the last time I eat pepperoni before bed I guarantee you that.

The old man is back. It took a whopping three minutes for his first complaint. That may be the longest it has ever taken, I'd have to check my records. I'm going to say that's a good sign, except that he'd been complaining all day on the phone. So maybe it just took him three minutes to come up with a new one.

When my phone rang right around six I knew who it was right away, without even looking. I must be psychotic or something. It also meant that I knew what I was doing tonight. I was considering getting myself in a whole other kind of trouble, but apparently that's not in the cards for tonight. So I'll settle for the same old trouble I've been getting myself in all along.

I spent a good chunk of the day today with The Rookie. We went to Joker's Child for a bit and then he tagged along to the insurance company to pick up some bonds. We went to this dingy little used appliance place to buy a refrigerator for the garage and I introduced him to White Castle which he promptly informed me he hated. Sometimes I wonder if he's really my brother. It was a good day all in all considering it was a ridiculously busy day.

Tomorrow the inspectors are here again, they might be bringing another team in as well so that will be fun. And by fun I mean...well, you know. Tomorrow night we'll be staking out the lot once again to see where the hell Tyson is escaping from. Friday I have to see a man about a fence. Saturday I have a lot of work to do in the office and around the house. And Sunday is some type of youth summit which by default I am chaperoning and arranging transportation for. Monday all hell breaks loose once again.

Life is...curious.

Choices, Choices, Choices...

When it rains it pours.

1. Inspection is this week. This isn't a bad thing necessarily. But it means I have to be in early every morning, and still don't tend to get out of here till late at night. Even when I was coming in late I was still pulling 12-14 hours a day. Yesterday I topped 18 easy. Today could possibly be in that ballpark easy.

2. My old man is coming home. I love my father, I really do. It's just tough sometimes. You have to wonder if he spends all his time in Florida thinking of ways to fuck with me or to fuck with things. It's not even that all his idea are bad, some of them are really good. It's just that there's no reasoning to any of it. He sits down there playing with imaginary numbers, filling in the blanks of what I've told him with things he makes up out of thin air. And then when he puts forth an idea based on something that in no way resembles reality he wonders why I question it.

3. I remember a time when I never even thought of things like landscaping. Or mortgages. Or plumbing issues. It's going to cost me $2,700 to fix the grass in my backyard. At least another $2,000 for a fence. There is something leaking from the bathroom in the apartment above me again, so we'll soon be cutting through the wall and ceiling to check that out. I'll be spending a small fortune for no good reason. Fucking hell.

4. Choices. Do I go with Option 1? Option 1 can be a great deal of fun, it's usually very satisfying, and sometimes even interesting. I just don't like it as much as Option 2. Option 2 is always fun, often surprising, and far far more safe than Option 1. Option 3 is boring now, and boring later. But somewhere in between it's amazing in a very different way for a very short period of time. Option 4 is a wild card. And Option 5 is not desirable at all. When comparing costs Option 1 is usually more than Option 2, but not far more. They both tend to cost more than Option 3, although on some occassions Option 3 can be the most expensive one. Option 4 varies, and Option 5 can cost as little as nothing. As far as availability goes, Option 1 and Option 2 I can probably have right away, Option 3 may not be available for two days or two weeks, there is no safe way to tell. Option 4 can be had immediately although that may impact upon its quality, and Option 5 is always available and always the same.

Choices, choices, choices...

Thomas Jefferson Survives...Ooops, Guess Not.

Friday afternoon I headed over to NYC for the 2008 NY Comic Con at the Javits' Center. It was my first time at The Con but luckily I was able to tag along with my cousin and his friends who are, at this point, Comic Con veterans.

Friday we got there at about 4 and just wandered from booth to booth. I picked up a few Comic Con Exclusives (nothing spectacular unfortunately) and Earth X Hulk & Banner oversized bust. Among the many highlights of the evening were the nav system in my Hummer directing us to go the wrong way down a one way street...which of course we did, my purchasing and shameless flaunting of a rake handle walking stick, a ridiculous response to $1 Iron Man Comics, and an excellent dinner served by a cute waitress at Houlihan's. All in all it was a fun (and funny) day.

Saturday was brilliant too. We spent the bulk of the day in the IGN Theatre watching previews and panels. I re-discovered how absolutely adverse I am to Q&A sessions, I can only imagine how the "celebrities" who take part in these panels must cringe with every insipid idiocy filled question haphazardly tossed in their direction. We got to see some fantastic clips from Pixar's next film Wall-E. I was actually a little disappointed that they showed so much. I got the feeling the producer could have introduced the clips by saying, "This is what happens at the beginning of the film, this is what happens in the middle of the film, and this is what happens at the end of the film." The Prince Caspian panel started out interesting and devolved into crap, The Battlestar Gallactica panel seemed awesome but I was somewhat lost. The Star Wars and Indiana Jones hour was nearly a total waste, but the guys from Robot Chicken admirably saved it. Wanted's preview got a huge response, and the Hellboy 2 panel was amazing but short. Guillermo Del Toro is the man, that's all I need to say.

We bailed after that as no one wanted to see The Incredible Hulk panel,and we'd been sitting there for something like 6 hours. We wandered around for a few hours before the con closed for the night. I spent a few hundred dollars on shit, but since the weekend started with me paying $50 for parking and spending $7 on an ice cream concoction that both looked and tasted like someone shit in a cup, I was happy to actually get something nice in return for my money. The lot of us stopped back in Houlihan's again and the waitress from the night before recognized us the minute we walked in and said hello (could have something to do with the 105% tip I left the night before) but unfortunately we got stuck with some guy as our waiter and he was significantly less interesting than she was. His tip was still generous, but reflected our disappointment.

I spent a good chunk of Sunday sleeping and fighting off an all too frequent fever before watching a marathon finale of HBO's spectacular John Adams mini-series.

I was very pleased with this weekend as a whole. It's good to spend good time with family, even if it is all too rare.

I probably should have been more careful with the things I purchased of course, not because of the money I spent, but because (say it with me now) I'm totally out of room in my office. Also...it leaves me with less money to spend on whores, and by whores I mean on the landscaping work to my backyard ($2,700 or so) and the fence I intend to put up (another $2,000 at least) and of course...whores.

This is another one of those weeks where things are going both great and shitty at the same time. But by and large I can't complain. After all, even if I did, who would listen?

Quotes of the Week(end): Comic-Con and Beyond Edition

"It's like you're walking down the street, and suddenly find yourself following a small child." - Michael Hogan, from Battlestar Galactica simultaneously responding to being asked what it was like portraying a Cylon (apparently a bad guy) after thinking for four seasons that his character was a good guy and making me curious about watching the show.

"What the fuck is a Cylon?"- Me while trying to follow what exactly was happening during the Battlestar Galactica Panel

"Yes, she is...you know." - Timur Bekmambetov, director of Nightwatch and Wanted, while making a slightly obscene gesture attempting to respond to a question about how hot Angelina Jolie is in person.

"I get excited when it's hard." - Ron Perleman, from Hellboy 2: The Golden Army just before being interrupted by Selma Blair's outburst of laughter while trying to answer a question about acting in heavy make-up.

"Fifteen? Congratulations my friend! The pubes are really popping now, eh?" - Guillermo Del Toro, director of Hellboy 2: The Golden Army to a fifteen year old kid asking a question, Doug Jones nearly cried, Selma Blair actually blushed, and Ron Perleman continued to act like he wished he was anywhere but there.

"Remember that time I was wearing your sister's clothes?" - Some Kid to my Cousin moments before I almost jumped across the table and ripped his throat out. Lucky for him my cousin was quick with an explanation.

"Here's the thing. You can leave a huge tip for a girl, and it's not because you want anything. But you can't leave a huge tip for a guy...because you don't want anything. See what I'm saying?" - Me, explaining the art of tipping after a slightly embarassing scene with a waitress in the Bayonne Houlihan's.

"I'm the number one guy here. Really. It goes Jose, Juan, Jamal, and then me. So maybe not number one, but I'm right after Jamal."- One of only two white male drivers at my company explaining to his wife where he ranks amongst the other employees. For reference, there is no Jamal.

Awwww-k-wwwwaaard

1. "You know what that is?"

"No. What?"

"A rake handle."

(long pause)

"I don't know what that means."

"You know, a rake handle."

(makes raking motion)

"Oh."

2. "Hey man, can you pass me one of those business cards?"

"Yeah, but only if I get to touch your..."

"What?"

"Uhhhh...."

3. "Hey."

"Hey."

"How are you?"

"Good, you?"

"Good. What are you doing?"

"I was just going to bed."

"What?"

"I was going to call it an early night."

"So you're not going to come?"

"No. Sorry. I'll have to catch you next time."

"I call you, and you're not going to come?"

"Really. I can't. I'm sorry."

"Fine."

4. "What is it?"

"I don't know."

"Every day this is. Just tell me."

"I can't."

"You can."

"Ok. Every day I come in here, every day. And I see you and I just think, wow. She's perfect. And I want to say something, or I want to do something, but..."

"You don't."

"I don't."

"Why?"

"You know that voice inside your head that tells you when something you want to do is a bad idea?"

"Yes."

"Right now, he's screaming."

Dr.Steve Brule Is My New Favorite Fictional Character

Move over Ivanhoe, Dr.Steve Brule is my new favorite fictional character. I've never actually seen the show he's supposed to be on, but I'm guessing it's sort of funny at the least. It also gives me a way to keep blogging even though I'm knee deep in shit here at the office and trying to get ready for inspection and the return of my next week.

So here's two more videos from Adultswim's Tim and Eric Awesome Show Great Job! featuring Dr. Steve Brule:

Part I:

Part 2:

So I'll be back with more stuff sometime this weekend, till then travel well friends.

Funny

This is funny...wait, do I need more explanation? No? Ok good...This is funny.

Operation Save The Kittens

"Well, early in the mornin' I'm a givin' you a warnin'
don't you step on my blue suede shoes.
Hey diddle diddle, I am playin' my fiddle,
ain't got nothin' to lose.
Roll Over Beethoven and tell Tchaikovsky the news." - Chuck Berry, Roll Over Beethoven

First off: I feel great today. I feel like shit, but I feel great.

I was talking to Goldberg last week about staging fake protest rallies, or rallies about things no one would really ever protest. They would be comedic yet thought provoking, almost in the spirit of Improv Everywhere. It was a funny idea that I didn't really give much more thought to than that.

Then on Sunday when we were in the mall some of the kids were talking about checking out the pet store. I've never been a big fan of mall pet stores, not since they sold me a pregnant hamster back in grade school. For those of you who don't know, a pregnant hamster is like the live hand grenade of the animal world, and once you pull the pin you can't stuff those fuckers back in. You have to pray that there isn't a single male in the litter, because if there is you're guaranteed more hamsters. And they're like friggin' mogwai, if you get them wet they multiply. I bought one hamster, woke up the next morning feeling like Kirk in The Trouble With Tribbles. Anyway, I digress.

So I don't like mall pet stores, and thought we could do something funny with that. I was trying to convince the kids to protest with me by making up poster boards that said "Save The Kittens" and standing out front of the pet store chanting. I would then go inside and buy all the kittens in the store. Just when people started to gather and think "Save what kittens?" I would let all the kittens loose in the mall. Everyone would be like "Oh! Save those kittens!" And would gladly save one and take it home with them. I thought it would be funny. And anyone that didn't would still be able to get a free kitten. Free Kitten is just below Ice Cream and Blow Job on the universal list of things that guarantee acquiescence. Alas that particular pet shop didn't sell kittens. I told Goldberg about the idea anyway, he didn't find it funny. In fact he chastised me by saying, "Kittens are not objects for your amusement." To which I replied, "Everything is an object for my amusement." His retort? "That's why you're a horrible person." Oddly enough, he was absolutely correct. I find that ridiculously amusing. Is that a bad thing?

Anyway, I got out of work late last night and think I finally figured out how Tyson (my dog, not the boxer) was escaping. I headed home and watched what's probably the last episode of New Amsterdam, which sucks because I liked that show. I watched the end of Fracture which turned out to be pretty good, and finished cleaning up my living room so my new recliner could be delivered today. I failed miserably at trying to put together the futon I got from The Kid's old room.

This morning my recliner came, it was even delivered early so that I didn't have to run home from work to wait for it. It was the exact color I wanted even though they didn't originally offer it in that color. Someone had ordered it as a custom job, and then returned it. So I got it without having to pay extra to have it made up. Pretty stupid though not offering it in black in the first place. It's pretty awesome. I feel like an old man sitting in it.

Even better my Sideshow Exclusive Thing Premium Format Figure finally came. Its paint job is a little off, but it still looks great. For the 100th time though...I'm completely out of room in my office for this shit. And Comic Con is this weekend so I'm sure there will be more of it.

So recliner, Thing Statue, Juno out on DVD, and the chick who plays Hermione Granger in the Harry Potter movies? Turned eighteen today. I'm just saying. I'm just saying.

Anyway...I'm doing really good right now. It's sort of nice. So tonight I'm going to work really late, get a lot done so I feel productive, and maybe go pick up a movie or two from Best Buy.

After that?

Who the hell knows?

Post-Postscript: This is entry number 96 for the year on this blog. That makes it my most blog-lific year so far here. To be fair 2004 I didn't start until July, and I posted a lot on the other blog, but still. I'm on pace for over 200 posts this year. That's pretty damn interesting to me. Now if only I could say something in most of them.

Batman Red 15

I can not, in any way, shape, or form, describe to you how much good days like yesterday do for me. I do a lot of things that I enjoy, do a lot of things which could be considered fun. But hanging out with the Team is one of the few things which makes me feel really good. I miss those kids a lot when I don't get to see them. So today I'm still sick. There's something hanging around down in my lungs, I'm congested like you wouldn't believe, and there's a pain in my side that hurts exponentially more every single time I cough. But...that doesn't really matter. It's all still good.

So we went to Palisades yesterday, and we played Laser Tag, something I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to do. The idea of me creeping around in a dark smoke filled room filled with teenagers...well let's just say that my parole officer would have a field day with that one. I reluctantly agreed to play after being harangued by the fifteen year old behind the counter who dodged my every attempt to get out of playing:

Me: The sign says there are smoke machines, I'm allergic to smoke.

Counter Guy: Machine's broken sir, no smoke today.

Me: Well the sensor vests, they probably don't come in my size, I'm a big guy.

Counter Guy: One size fits all sir.

Me: I stretch the definition of the word all.

Counter Guy: All means all sir, you'll be fine.

Me: You know guns aren't really my thing, I'm a non-violent guy.

Counter Guy: They shoot light sir, stop being a pussy.

So I'm getting ready to play laser tag, and as the guy finishes giving us the rules in the prep room he looks at me and goes, "You know you're going to be first by like 30 kills." I laugh and say I haven't played before. We look at the rest of the group. It's the Antioch Team (all girls except Mike) and these five thirteen or fourteen year old guys who look like nice kids, but total goobers. I laugh. Maybe he's right. So I get my harness and and power up my handle? Batman. That's right. Who am I? I'm Batman.

The game starts. I'm 6'3", I weigh over 350 lbs. I'm the oldest one in the room by at least 5 years. I've never played laser tag in my life. And here I am standing stock still in the middle of the god damn room as these little kids unleash on me. My harness starts beeping, my gun powers down, we've been playing for two seconds and I'm hit already. Now I'm pissed.

I went off. Over the next fifteen minutes I pulled that trigger 605 times. The next nearest guy shot less than 375 times. I was tagged 63 times. I scored 131 tags, and two base captures. I outscored the entire yellow team. At one point I noticed one of the teenage boys from the yellow team following me, we'd both just been hit so our suits were powered down. I was taking this opportunity to cross the open field without fear of being shot. He was following behind me quietly waiting for my harness to light up so he could shoot me in the back. The minute our harnesses lit up I shot him without turning around. He cursed under his breath, but kept following me. I hit a few other people and noticed his lights come back on. I shot him again. This time we both laughed. He kept following me. I turned and leaned in towards him and said, "Just get a little closer kid, come on." His suit lit up, I shot him again. He took off. Later on, coming around a corner he surprised me and lit me up pretty good. He literally jumped up and shouted, "I finally got you." We both got a good laugh out of that.

I'm sweating like hell at this point, so I wander over towards the door for a breather. The kid running the system mentions that I'd been in the lead for the entire time, but some other kid just passed me. No one else is even close. I head back out and immediately get into it with the littlest kid there. He's so small it's tough to see him. We're dodging back and forth, we can't seem to hit each other, but no one else is firing at us. I get him twice before he gets me, but before I can get him again. The game ends. The kid running the system won't tell us who won, just that it was between me and the kid with the handle Hercules.

When we get out front and they start handing out the tickets I find that I have narrowly defeated Hercules by a mere 700 points. The next closest competitor was 7,000 points behind us. I feel about as proud as an old man beating a bunch of kids at a meaningless game possibly can.

We wander around the mall for a few hours, have a pretty decent meal at Dave and Busters and play video games till a little after 9. I kick ass at trivia, it's more my speed than laser tag. We hop on the bus and head home. I watch a DVRed episode of John Adams and call it a night.

It was a good day.

A real good day.

Fever Dreams

I was just beginning to feel a little better Friday night. I watched Sweeney Todd while I paid some bills in the office, then fell asleep for an hour on the couch while I watched The Mist. I got into work early, stopped for a cup of hot chocolate, and headed home. Figuring I was tired enough to get three or four hours of sleep I was in bed fifteen seconds after I opened the door (trust me I counted).

This is when the first dreams started.

1)I'm in bed sleeping in the middle of the day. Rare, but exactly what I was really doing at the moment. It's hot, and suddenly I hear water running. As I climb out of bed I realize the entire orientation of the house is off. This is not what my real house looks like, but in my dream I know it is my house. I walk into the bathroom (a much cleaner bathroom than mine) only to find that the water is pouring out of the ceiling, and moments later I dodge a myriad of pipes crashing through onto the floor. Oddly enough the water doesn't seem to be running any faster, but still leaks through the ceiling. I go to head upstairs, but the stairs are not where they are supposed to be and I'm starting to realize this is much larger than my normal house. When I finally get up there I see my tenants just going into there apartment. I call out to them and we have a brief discussion about the weather before they go in. I have totally forgotten about the running water. I jump from the second floor to the first floor to the basement without taking any steps or opening any doors. I'm not searching for the water shut off valve but before I can turn it I find myself back in the kitchen. Outside the window I can see a girls high school soccer team starting to practice in my backyard. I hope none of them notice the house because suddenly I have no pants and all the windows are two stories high. Dream one ends.

Short Random Forgettable Dreams Fill The Space. Vaguely recall one being about aliens.

2) I'm driving down a dirt road, it seems familiar, yet I don't know where I am. First I am alone. Then there are others in the car with me. When I get where I'm going I am alone again. It is a dark square unremarkable building in the middle of a small clearing in an otherwise heavy wood. There are people standing around outside, like they're waiting for the place to open. I don't have a key, but someone calls me boss and then we're inside. It's somewhere between a bar a stripclub a library and a movie theater. In other words all my favorite places combined. I recall thinking this was the kind of dream I need to have more of. Fuck that water leaking through the ceiling dream. This could be the shit. There are these little black curtained cubicles throughout the dark room. There's that cheesy neon mood lighting they use in these sort of places. Well dressed waitresses and waiters bring drinks and fancy food arrangements around and slip them through the curtains. I'm sitting in one of these curtains with a girl. I'm confused. I know her, this actually doesn't even seem like much of a stretch for us, but I don't know her. I can't place who she is, or how she fits in my life. We're talking, drinking. Laughing. Suddenly she closes her eyes and its like she's gone. I shake her gently. Her eyes snap open and she tells me to hurry up and get in there. What? She closes her eyes again, so do I. Suddenly I see what she's talking about. We're in a movie. It's like we're both observing and playing parts. Making decisions and being swept up in them as well. It's like a video game almost, except she's literally there, next to me. Something shakes us, we're back and laughing. A man is standing in the cubicle calling me boss and telling me there is something wrong in the kitchen. I apologize to the girl and leave.

At this point I wake up in the real world, my cell is ringing, one of the guys from work wants to know where the pizza I gave him last week came from. What?

Since I'm already up now I get some pizza myself, watch the end of The Mist and then watch some tv before beginning to clean up the house a bit. I had DVRed Next last week and finally got around to watching it. It was total crap. I had also DVRed Venus last week so I watched that too. It was amazing. I've seen a lot of really good movies in the last few months. But I think Venus is one of the tops.

I watched a little of Die Hard with A Vengeance on TNT before calling it a night. Watching Die Hard on TNT is like masturbating with a barbed wire glove. Sure it involves one of your favorite things, but it's still guaranteed to make you miserable.

That was the greatest analogy ever.

I'm out.

Shhhhh-wha?

So I'm sitting here. Here. In me office, at me desk. Drinking. Watching Movies. Writing Checks. Drinking some more.

I 'spose it ain't the sharpest thing keeping a bottle of scotch, a bottle of bourbon, and a bottle of poteen three feet from your desk when you know you're going to have to be doing something such a downer as paying bills. What's that? $11,000 for comp insurance this month? No problem, how's 'bout a drink? $30,000 for gasoline this month? Why t'aint a thing, how's 'bout another drink? You want me...me, to pay how's much fer soap? $300 for a bucket of soap? Will it clean the blood off me hands once I'm done bludgeoning you to death with it? Yeah? S'alright then, how's 'bout just one more drink?

Course if you know me you know I've been sitting here for the past three hours with the scent from the same finger of Maker's Mark wafting up towards my congested nose. Having not drunk a single sip of it.

I feel a slight bit better about certain things after the events of last evening. Not that anything happened or went particularly well, but that I've been able to put certain things to rest. Certain ill feelings which had surrounded me for the past several days are now no more than a memory. Maybe things didn't sort out like they should have, but they sorted by God. And I'll take that for certain with the run I've been having lately.

All too natural and all too frightening urges have clouded my judgement. They cause me a great deal of unrest, but somehow, without knowing exactly how, my better nature stops them from surfacing. What am I? Am I a monster? Or am I the monster's keeper?

I won't be going out tonight. Not because I can't find somewhere to go, but because I need the rest. I'll be working for a bit longer, I have to be back in early tomorrow, and Sunday I've got plans with the Antioch Team. I'm not sure if this is going to be a good weekend or not just yet. But it will be a weekend to remember, that much I know already.

How Does He Do It?

Shoot Shoot Ba-Doot

"You don't sound happy."

"I'm fine."

"I didn't say you weren't, I just said you don't sound happy."

"I guess I'm not."

"That's too bad. Anything I can do to help?"

"No."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"That I couldn't help."

"Is that really something to be sorry for?"

"I think it is."

"You would."

"If I could help, I would."

"I know."

I'm Not Not Trying To Grow A Beard

I tend not to take things down here so I'll let that last one stand, but things have changed in the last few minutes and what I should have posted was this:

I'm going to get myself in a great deal of trouble tonight. The entertaining part should be how I get out of it.

That would have been eerily prophetic and far more appropriate.

Travel well friends.

I'm Not Not Ok

Alright, so I've had like thirty starts to short little story entries but I've been so sick the last few days that I can't get my head around finishing any of them. Add to that some of the things that have been going on, how busy it is at work, and a few things I'm thinking through and I've fallen a bit behind.

I'm ducking out of work for a bit right now because I really feel like shit, maybe I'll catch a movie, maybe I'll get some stuff done. I don't know.

My head is pounding, I'm congested, I can't stop coughing, everything hurts and I'm burning up. I've been sick for months now on and off, so I hope this is just everything cresting and I'll be done with it. No more doctors in the forseeable future, just me and mine own head getting shit sorted out.

But hey, it could be worse. I'm Palomba...so I'm always ok.

Letter Pt.4

Dear God,

Ok, so I know we've had our differences in the past. Between you being an all-seeing all-knowing globally worshipped deity and me being a school bus driver there were bound to be a few things we didn't see eye to eye on. I get that, I really do.

I know we've been talking a lot lately (even though I seem to be the one doing most of the talking I'm not complaining) but it's been awhile since my last letter. I know I wasn't too polite last time I wrote, so I'd like to take a second to apologize. I probably shouldn't have told you to fuck off, but I was a bit angry so I hope you understand. In fact between giving people cancer, random accidents, natural disasters, and wars waged in your name we should all get to tell you to fuck off at least once or twice in our lives. I mean it's only reasonable. It's not like you don't win in the end anyway.

But I'm sorry, really. I mean you did sort of piss me off. You'd spent the better part of three days kicking me in the balls and I was getting a bit sore. But hey, let's let bygones be bygones? How 'bout it?

Thing is I sort of need a favor. No, no. Not money. Devil and I already worked that one out. I'm not looking to get rich and famous, or even really get anything at all. I sort of made a mistake, and now it seems like the whole world is ending. I've been doing a pretty good job of hurting people without meaning to lately, but this one sort of takes the cake. I'm pretty sure you know what I'm talking about. So, look, I'm not asking you to fix it. I'm just asking you to give me a chance to fix it. I got a whole lot of other shit to fix too, lots of wrongs to right, lots of shit that wasn't my fault, lots of people I haven't had time for lately. But this last one is sort of all on me. I did it. I fucked it up. So I'm asking...and asking nicely, how 'bout a hand boss?

Your Friend,
Palomba

P.S. - Can you do something about this cold too? It's been like three months already! Just kidding, just kidding.

Silly Little Children Never Know Their Place

Sometimes you think you're doing something for someone and as it turns out you're really doing it to them. Sometimes it's the right thing anyway, but sometimes...

Tonight I will walk with the Old Ghosts so that tomorrow I can try and leave them behind. Not forever mind you, not even for all that long really. Just enough so that I can gather my thoughts without the scrutiny of their ever watchful eye.

It's time for a journey. The sort that doesn't actually involve going anywhere.

As always, I will be back.

Destiny

Recap

My name is Christian William Palomba, I am 27 years old, I am Six Foot Three Inches Tall and weigh in the neighborhood of 375 pounds. I'm ugly as sin and often have an attitude to match. I spend most of my time working at the family school bus company. It's a good job, I like it, and I make a good living off of it. I own a small little house, I drive an excessive vehicle, and have a shitty dog. The constants in my life are my little brother and sister who I adore and spoil rotten, and a small yet steadfast group of friends who I rarely see but still know I can count on in a pinch. I went to DePaul High School for a marking period before transferring to Manchester, joining the football team and meeting a great group of people I'm still tight with. I went to Marist College for a year before transferring to Rutgers, joining the radio station and meeting a great group of people I haven't seen since. Since 1996 I've been a part of the Antioch program at a local church. I'm totally fuck all useless there, but I love every minute of it. I meet a new and interesting group of kids every year and I love every one of them, even though it seems that the minute they're gone I lose touch with them. In the last two years I've spent entirely too much time in strip clubs and go-go bars, but I've had a blast doing it. It's not an obsession, it's a hobby. In the past three months I've started collecting comic book memorabilia and reading the comics that I used to love as a kid. I love the New York Yankees, the New York Rangers, and God. In that order. I've only been in one relationship in my entire life, she was my best friend beforehand, we dated for almost six months. It didn't work out. No regrets. I've never had to have any type of surgery, up until last year I'd never even had stitches, I never really get all that sick but lately I've been unwell. Headaches, nosebleeds, vomiting are all normal things to me. So unwell is a relative term. I'm great with people, but not to good with any one specific person. Just this week I offended someone I think quite highly of for no good reason. I feel pretty badly about that. I've never done drugs, I've only been drunk once in my life. I'm starting to suspect that I may be an alcoholic, but that I'm just not very good at it. It's been suggested that I may be borderline manic depressive, but I've since established that there's no such thing as borderline manic depressive and that though I may exhibit many attributes of the cliched and over diagnosed mood disorders often called bipolar I am most certainly not. I may have major depressive episodes and the more frequent hypo-manic episodes but I haven't killed anyone or myself yet so I'm pretty sure it's all bullshit and I'm just fucking weird. I'm not special or unique or interesting in any way. I don't have very much affect on people. I'm sort of inconsequential. I just don't matter.

But...

My name is Christian Palomba...and I love my life.

I've been blogging for over four years now, and I'm certainly not ready to stop just yet. But I think I'm going to try and write a little less about me for the next little while. These last few months I've been blogging a lot, but there's been a lot going on in my life I guess. I've been writing a lot in the past few months in general. Not even writing so much as practicing. One scene plays, introductions to short stories, letters between people that never existed. I've been trying to recreate stories I have written and lost, trying to get going on ideas I had long ago. I'm warming up I guess. I think that's what we're going to see here for the next little bit.

It may not make sense, it may not be interesting. But this is me we're talking about here.

It's been an unfortunate and recurring theme lately, but I have some wrongs I have to right and I'll most likely touch on that here. I'm going back to the doctor tomorrow and that's always good for a story so I'll probably drop a few lines about that. And God willing I'll be seeing the Antioch Team next weekend so there will certainly be something to talk about there. Outside that I think it's time to slow down for a bit here, soon it will be time to slow down for a bit everywhere. I think I'm about due for a break in general. And then maybe I'll catch a few breaks.

I'm a lucky guy. All the great people I know, all the great things I've seen. Even when things go horribly wrong, I still come out on top. Maybe it's just because I expect so very little from life, and often get so very much.

So thanks for reading, keep on reading, and I'll see you all soon.

Travel well friends.

The Fucker Will Rue The Day

"I think a drink." - Withnail, Withnail & I

I feel the need to point out, in all fairness to the world at large, that I've had just the tiniest bit to drink. Not too much mind you. But just enough.

And am now sitting at the desk in my office just shy of 4 A.M. eating Chef Boyardee & Rice Krispy Treats, drinking iced tea straight from the jug, watching Withnail & I and ruminating on the meaning of a just received phonecall.

"Why has my head gone numb? I must have some booze. I demand to have some booze!"- Withnail, Withnail & I

My Heart Is Beating Like A Fucked Clock

If I had a pistol, not twenty minutes ago, I would have stuck it in my fucking mouth and blown the back of my head all over creation.

The fact that I am writing this now is a testament to two things.

One the resounding lack of a pistol.

And two the better judgement of my dominant self overruling the whims of my other parts.

Questions remain.

How can one man fuck up so much?

Has God himself ever fucked up the un-fuckupable with such grace and aplomb?

Why is it that people expect so very much from an asshole like me?

If you thought my February and March were tough just wait for the unholy assfuck that April is quick becoming.

2008 seems to be a year determined to beat me. I have been known before to rise to a challenge, but never has so much gone so wrong without me seeing where it was going. Perhaps that's not entirely the truth. I think every fucked up thing has gone exactly like I expected it to, I may have just overestimated my ability to deal with and eventually correct this.

Tonight I wronged someone who did not deserve that. Tonight I shit on someone who was never anything but nice to me. You can only apologize so many times. I think I'm all out.

So I won't say I'm sorry.

Doesn't mean I'm not.

Just means I can't say it anymore.

Distilled Truth

"The truth? The only woman who ever loved me I couldn't love back. The only woman I've ever loved can never know. So I come here and I love you girls thirty minutes at a time. And when the sun comes up tomorrow, maybe I hurt a little less on the inside. Maybe." - T.O. Hob, Beginnings

"I am lost. I know not who I am, nor where I come from. I know not why I'm here, nor where I go." - Calvero Barnes

"She smiled at me. But what does that mean?"- Lazarus Jones

"With these hands I spread forgiveness, with these hands I rain down woe." -The Right Reverend Clayton Smith

"If, John, in your humble estimation you deem my entreaties so worthy of a reply I implore you to be expeditious in your response. I am not long for this world my friend, and I am not alone in this. We spoke once before of an end, and I fear this end is near. I have heard that dark wolf howling, John. And now I feel him nipping at my heel."- Thomas Monroe Madison, A Letter to John Garrison

"Great men know only that they will be remembered. Wise men know how."- King, The Return

"The love I have known in my life pales only in comparison to the love I had hoped to know." -Edward Allen Rigby

Goober Erection

Ahhh...

So...

In light of my new habit of being responsible with money (not really, so replace "being responsible" with "pretending to want to be responsible") I haven't purchased anything for my collection in a few weeks. Partially because I had everything I wanted and partially because I was out of room. I'm still waiting on my Sideshow Exclusive Premium Format Thing Figure, my Sideshow Exclusive Hellboy II Samaritan Revolver, and my Life Size Iron Man Bust. But those are already ordered and paid for. I also have one piece owed to me to replace a damaged piece, and I figured I'd probably pick up a few things at ComicCon when I go later this month. But I'm out of room. Totally out of room. So when the new Hellboy mini-busts and mini-Right Hand of Doom came out I passed. I heard they were eventually doing a new 1:1 Right Hand of Doom so I'll be keeping an eye out for that, but I'd given up on ever finding an original Right Hand of Doom...until just now. I ridiculously overpaid for it, and I have nowhere to put it, but shortly I should be the owner of one original Hellboy 1:1 Scale Right Hand of Doom.

Awesome.

I'm such a friggin' dork.

In other news, I regained some of my honor last night in a rather round about and inconsequential way. It of course cost me a little bit of my humanity and left me with what should be an excellent post coming later in the day. So till then...cheerio.

18 and Over

"What? That's not possible. How the hell do I owe that much? I thought we took care of that."

"No, no. You don't owe that much. That's how much you're getting back."

"What?"

"Combined, that's how much you have coming back to you."

"Holy shit. How'd that happen?"

"I don't know."

"Shouldn't you know that sort of thing? Isn't that what I pay you for?"

"Yeah. But would you rather I be telling you that you owe money?"

"No sir."

"Then how about just being glad you don't owe $35,000 like last year?"

"Sounds like a plan."

We Don't Stand a Dead Dago's Chance Around Here

"Can't you even tell me what—they were like?" - Simpson in Algernon Blackwood's The Wendigo

Doubt. Confusion. Uncertainty. Vague suspicions. Belief in things known to be untrue. Horror. Hunger. Lust. Anger. Rage.

Wind whistling through branches
Traveling through the dark forest
The grey mountain looms in the distance
In a small pond the moon reflected
She lays in the flowers staring up at the heavens
All the while playing the zither

The explanation searched for may not exist. Time grows short. Unpleasant developments on horizon. Notion that pain should not be tolerable. Realization may ruin reality. Fear shall not rule the day.

If the only reason something is impossible is that we consider it to be, then is not the impossible possible?

"It is far better you should not try to know, or to find out." - Dr.Cathcart in Algernon Blackwood's The Wendigo

The Troggs, The Gods, And The Thomas Monroe Madison Missive

"Wild Thing...I think I love you...but I've gotta know for sure." - Wild Thing, The Troggs

"I bring the thunder, you bring the lightning. Let it rain." - Jamie "Thor" Christians

Last night...ohhhhh last night.

Went toe to toe with some unknown Beast and though at first I'd thought I won the rest of the night left me doubting. Things I know, things I sow, things that none of us can control.

Dream 1: I'm in a store. Sort of looks like Costco. I think it's supposed to be a mall. I'm with a group of people. Some younger, some older. I think they're supposed to be people I know, but they're not exactly right. It's sort of bizarro. It's getting late. Someone hands me a phone, they want me to explain to their father that I'm keeping an eye on them and that I'll get them back safe. The man on the other end of the phone doesn't seemed concerned in the least. He tells me the world is ending. But not to worry. Someone is hugging me.

Dream 2: Solomon Grundy born on a Monday christened on Tuesday married on Wednesday took ill on Thursday grew worse on Friday died on Saturday buried on Sunday. That was the end of Solomon Grundy.

Dream 3: I'm singing, but it's not my voice. It's quiet and peaceful and I sort of enjoy it.

Dream 4: I'm sitting at a table in a dark cafe with George Clooney and Jake Gyleenhaal. My mind is screaming at the potential homoerotic subtext that this dream seems to be presenting. George shoots Jake through the head, drops his gun and walks away. I continue to sip my tea.

Dream 5: So soft. So pretty. So not who I friggin' expected. Dreams that quickly become nightmares though very little has changed. Suddenly I'm screaming because I'm no longer in charge and my mind has sort of done it's own little thing here spinning me around and around. There is a voice. I know him. I push her out of my mind and reach out to the voice that is calling me. When I see him it all stops. Scary.

And then I'm awake, contemplating a conversation I had and a letter I received from a man who I'm certain doesn't exist. I call it:

The Thomas Monroe Madison Missive

Dearest friend,

I

think

that the

only thing

stopping us from

being that which we

were truly born to be

is the unrelenting and

unforgiving truth that

men like us are few

and far between.

It would seem

that the only

knowledge

allowing

victory

is lost

to us.

Stumbling about in the darkness I bumped into a man resting under a barely glowing streetlight. He offered me a smoke, which I of course refused, and he began to lecture me on the wonderous workings of the mind of modern man. I looked about, uncertain of where I was and unable to interject to ask for directions. I simply waited figuring he would talk himself out soon. Instead he implored me to join him for a drink at a pub I had not notice before. We were the only two customers but while we drank he whispered his theories as if he were afraid the walls would steal his man secrets as if I, a stranger, was anymore trustworthy than the dusty bar stools and unkept tables. The tale he told me that night was one which has stayed with me ever since. The story of a man held together only by his steadfast and unflinching convictions. A man who, when everything around him changes, stays exactly the same. A man whose world is molded from his beliefs and fears and desires. A man who controls everything...but has control over nothing. And while we drank, growing more and more drunk, the story continues twisting and turning and rambling out towards a distant conclusion I could no more guess at than create myself. And as the story built, just as it seemed we were getting somewhere, my new boon companion excused himself to use the loo...and never came back. I went in search of him, but he was gone. I paid the keep for our drinks and asked him kind for directions, but when I stepped out of the bar I didn't need them. I was on a street I knew well, in place all too familiar to me. I went home that night and dreamt of rough beginnings and stories I was eager to tell.

In just a few hours I make another decision.

One day something I decide will make a difference.

I promise you friends...today is not that day.

Terminal Lassitudinous

EXT. CLUTTERED GARDEN - AFTERNOON

A disheveled lanky young man, CALVERO, sits on a low box in a garden, his arms extended he leans back on a large rock and looks longingly at the broken and battered barrows, spades, and rakes that lay amongst the wild and untended flowers. He pulls a cigarette from a pack and realizing it is now empty crumples it up and tosses it away amongst the scraggly bushes. He places the cigarette on his lip. His brown scrunches up as he searches fruitlessly for a lighter.

The bushes rustle. A shadow crosses him. He raises an eyebrow to the unseen intruder.

CALVERO:
Who goes there?

From the bushes a chuckle, and outsteps a shorter stockier young man of about CALVERO's age, MASON.

CALVERO:
Mason?

MASON:
Cal.

CAL goes to stand up but before he can MASON has already plopped down on the ground next to him.

MASON:
How goes old friend?

CALVERO:
Good Mase, but where the hell have you been?

MASON:
Dead.

CALVERO:
Seriously Mase, it's been three years.

MASON:
Then how about you quit bugging me and let me bum one of those cigs?

CALVERO:
All out pal.

MASON waits expectantly.

CALVERO:
Oh.

CALVERO pulls a knife from his pocket and slices the cigarette neatly in half, he hands his friend half.

MASON:
Thank you much.

CALVERO:
So?

MASON:
So?

CALVERO:
Where the hell have you been? I've been looking for you for three years, your mom and sis have been worried half to death.

MASON:
No, I think not.

CALVERO:
What?

MASON:
I told you already Cal. I've been dead.

CALVERO:
I never did understand how you could disappear so soon after your pa passed, leaving your ma and Sally on their own. Didn't sit right with folks around here either you abandoning them like that. I reckoned you had your reasons though, looked out for them the best I could. Not half as good as having you there I figure.

MASON:
Reckon not.

CALVERO:
That's it, that's all I get? Reckon not? Hey, wait, do your ma and Sally know you're back?

MASON:
Nope.

CALVERO gets to his feet.

CALVERO:
Well what the hell is wrong with you, we should get over there, right now.

MASON:
Can't.

CALVERO looks dumbfounded, for a second he paces back and forth staring down at his friend holding his half cigarette in his hand. When he stops pacing he raises his half cigarette to his mouth, only to notice it still is not lit.

CALVERO:
Well then I'm going to tell them.

MASON:
No you aren't.

CALVERO:
What? Are you going to stop me?

MASON stands up.

MASON:
Couldn't stop you if I wanted Cal, I'm dead.

CALVERO:
Stop saying that. Just stop it. You're not dead. You never died.

MASON:
I did.

CALVERO:
And what, you came back?

MASON:
Nope...and neither did you Cal.

CALVERO:
What? What did you say?

MASON:
We left on a Tuesday afternoon in April. It was warm and muggy and the air was so thick with horseflies that you could just pull 'em down with your barehand. There was me, you, Tommy, Hal, Aaron, Steck, and little Dorsey from over the hill. We were rolling down the stretch in the back of the truck when the driver didn't judge his turn quite right and the lot of us ended up in a drainage ditch on the side of the road with the truck all a fire on top of us. Tommy, Hal, Aaron, Steck, and little Dorsey from over the hill all got burned up. So did you. And so did I. Been dead three years today Cal, 'bout time you started acting like it. That's all I came to say. Thanks for the smoke.

CALVERO stares coldly at the ground, and pulls the cigarette from his mouth as MASON turns and begins to walk away.

CALVERO:
Hey Mase?

MASON:
Yeah Cal?

CALVERO gestures with his cigarette.

CALVERO:
You got a light?

Three: Venom & Vicissitude

Int. Dark Chamber - Night

Three WOMEN dance slowly in a circle, their long flowing robes floating seductively above a man, YOUNG HOB, who sits Indian style on a large cushion on the cold marble floor.

The women, sister spirits sent to seduce brave warriors speak in turns from the eldest a thick pleasant woman with large pillowy bosoms, to the middle one a slick toned dark haired seductress, to the youngest a fair and gentle girl.


ELDEST:
So brave...

MIDDLE:
So strong...

YOUNGEST:
So handsome...

ALL:
Won't you stay and play with us awhile?

YOUNG HOB:
Why are there always three of you? Wouldn't two have done the trick?

ALL:
Two is better than one, and three is better than two. Three times the eyes, three times the nose, three times the tongue...

ELDEST:
All the better to see you with...

MIDDLE:

All the better to smell you with...

YOUNGEST:
All the better to...

YOUNG HOB:
Taste me with, yeah, I've read that one too.

ELDEST:
Why so hard child?

MIDDLE:
Do we frighten you?

YOUNGEST:
Or excite you?

YOUNG HOB:
None of the above.

ELDEST:
Come and stay with us awhile.

MIDDLE:
We promise you won't regret it.

YOUNGEST:
We promise you won't regret anything ever again.

YOUNG HOB:
I'm sure.

The MIDDLE and YOUNGEST sisters fall away, clinging to each other tightly, as the ELDEST sister falls upon YOUNG HOB.

ELDEST:
Why are you here handsome young warrior? Why aren't you home basking in the spoils of your victory? Why aren't you home ravaging all the beautiful young women of your land?

YOUNG HOB:
I...

ELDEST:
If I were your woman I would never let you leave. I would teach you things you could not ever imagine and keep you satisfied in ways you would not think possible. If I was your woman you would own me, and I would do whatever it was you wished simply to please you.

YOUNG HOB:
Keep your illusions and hold your vile tongue. My name is Hob of the Vippari, I am the bravest warrior the world has ever known, and I will not fall pray to some foul bitch of a temptress. Be gone whore!

And with a hiss and a flash the ELDEST vanished into the darkness, rebuke and defeated. The MIDDLE sister approached while the YOUNGEST sister watches.

MIDDLE:
So good to be rid of sister, she was such a bother. Wasn't she?

YOUNG HOB:
Yes...

MIDDLE:
Mmmm...and now I have you all to myself.

YOUNG HOB eyes the YOUNGEST sister quizzically.

YOUNG HOB:
But...

MIDDLE:
Forget her. She is just a girl. And you are a man. And a man needs a real woman, like me. My sister could have taught you things, but together we can discover pleasure even she knew nothing of. So old, so used. I would be yours and yours alone. Your toy to be played with, your slave to be commanded. You could lead me, like you lead your men on the battlefield. With total and absolute control.

YOUNG HOB:
SILENCE WITCH! Speak not of my men or their sacrifices, I am Hob of the Vippari, under my command the greatest force known to man formed, fought, and conquered. You will not sully their memories with your venomous words and spiteful tongue! Be gone whore!

The MIDDLE sister howls in failure and disappears back into the darkness. Slowly and softly the YOUNGEST sister approaches, carefully wrapping her arms around YOUNG HOB.

YOUNGEST:
I am sorry for them.

YOUNG HOB:
What?

YOUNGEST:
They are old and jaded. They were good once, but the slow grind of time has worn away at them till what you see is all that was left. Husks. Fragments of the great women they once were, now only whores.

YOUNG HOB:
And you?

YOUNGEST:
Is that what you see when you look at me?

YOUNG HOB:
I...

YOUNGEST:
It is time for you to rest my love, time for your reward. Relax and let me take care of you, let me see to your needs, let me heal your wounds.

She strokes one long thin finger down his bare side over a ghastly and mortal wound. YOUNG HOB sees the wound as if for the first time.

YOUNG HOB:
What?

The YOUNGEST stifles his cry with her lips. He collapses speechless and she cradles his head against her tiny bosom.

YOUNGEST:
It is time my love, time for you to give yourself to me, time for you accept your destiny. I will take good care of you, and you will take good care of me. It is fate.

YOUNG HOB:
No...I can't be...

YOUNGEST:
You are.

YOUNG HOB:
But...we won, we were victorious!

YOUNGEST:
True victory is built on the sacrifice of the victors, you made the greatest sacrifice of all, and were victorious because of it.

YOUNG HOB:
No. No. It's not true.

YOUNG HOB slips from YOUNGEST's grip and struggles to his feet, dark blood beginning to leak from his wound.

YOUNG HOB:
No more of your lies, no more of your fantasy, I deny you. I am Hob of the Viparri, greatest warrior this world has ever known. I am Hob of the Viparri, general of the greatest army man has ever seen, I am Hob of the Viparri...

YOUNGEST shakes her head and quietly disappears into the darkness, with her goes the remaining light. YOUNG HOB's voice quietly echoes in the darkness.

YOUNG HOB:
...and I am alone.

SILENCE