Yes, This is Still Happening

Hiya. It's time to present the next installment of Unnamed Short Story (or whatever the hell). A couple of people have said some really nice things about the story not being as big of turd as I have insisted. That's totally super duper nice of them and I appreciate it. For seriously. But...um..let's just agree to disagree on this ok? Ok. And with that, here it be:

UNNAMED SHORT STORY, PART II

The exact speed of the coffee/waffle mixture that Arthur spit out was clocked at 94 miles per hour (by a cop sitting in her patrol car, outside the house in a speed trap. The cop, thinking it was the vehicle that had just passed, pulled the car over and chewed out the driver and began issuing a ticket. The driver explained to the officer that he was in fact driving a 1973 Vega and it was simply impossible to be going that fast unless there was a stiff wind pushing the car down a very long hill, which there wasn't. The cop agreed and she subsequently quit the force to become a market research analyst) when it struck Lorraine dead center in the face. Arthur tried to speak but only managed to choke which caused him to start to spit up. Lorraine raised her arms in self defense to protect herself from another onslaught. In doing so she whacked the table which caused Arthur's coffee mug to tip and deposit its steaming contents into his lap. It then fell to the linoleum and detonated  sending shards of ceramic bits into Arthur's shin. He in turn rose quickly and clumsily, leaning on the table for support which caused Lorraine's bowl of cereal to splash across her sizable bosom. After much confusion and curses with some half-hearted cleaning thrown in for good measure, Arthur managed a response of sorts.

"What did you say?" he asked, holding his wounded shin and scalded crotch at the same time, a feat not recommended by the Dexterity Society. 

Lorraine, with some waffle still in her hair, repeated her intentions. 

Arthur was stunned. He sat down slowly and stared stupidly at the lopsided lazy susan that had been a wedding gift from Lorraine's cheap brother. He had forgotten about his shin and wasn't even the slightest bit concerned about his crotch anymore. He was completely numb. His entire life passed before his eyes and it wasn't even interesting enough to grab his attention. His Muffin Bottom was leaving him. And all this before his second cup of coffee. This was not how he would like to start his day. 

"Arthur?" Lorraine prodded cautiously. Arthur had reacted quite satisfactorily at first what with the panic and all but this was now becoming a little intense. He had become completely pale and was breathing shallowly. His hands had latched onto the nearest thing which was a paper napkin and he was now engaged in methodically picking it apart. He was placing the little pieces on the table in front of himself in small stacks as if he were playing solitaire. And he appeared to be losing. All the while he was just blankly staring at the centerpiece with cloudy eyes. He was muttering something to himself but it was incoherent. Lorraine was getting nervous. This was not going according to plan.

"Arthur? You can keep the house...I don't even want the cat," she offered and glanced over at the cat who was sniffing the heating vent cautiously. Arthur did not respond. He finished with the napkin and set to work on another. Lorraine backed slowly out of the kitchen and ran as fast as her chubby legs would carry her up the stairs to the bedroom. She had packed most of her things the night before and in no time at all she had everything she needed, including an extra box of Ring Dings. She lugged her bags down the stairs and set them by the front door in a jumble like a bunch of impatient children. Walking as quietly as she could (which wasn't very quiet at all), she returned to the kitchen to check on Arthur. She was quiet surprised to find him staring directly at her, his eyes clear and shining, a little grin creeping across his face. He swiftly and abruptly stood up. Lorraine let out a little yelp in spite of herself and backed up to the sink, her massive buttocks getting there first and spreading sideways to near its full girth. Arthur's eyes never left hers.

"Good morning Honey Lips," he said. This struck Lorraine as odd because he had never called her that before. As a matter of fact, he had once remarked that her lips reminded him of a piece of undercooked pork he had once had the displeasure of consuming. Nevertheless, he had most certainly said "honey lips"; and with a straight face too.

"Arthur? A..are you o.k.?" Lorraine questioned. She was looking at his hands which were relaxed by his sides and apparently free of weapons. She then concentrated a possible weapon for herself if need be. She had never known Arthur to be a violent person but the man moving closer to her now did not appear to be the same person she had spent countless nights sleeping next to. The only thing readily available of any potential lethal merit was a large whisk. She eased one pudgy hand towards it and was shocked as Arthur's dry hand came down on top of hers and squeezed firmly.

"I'm fine dear. Question is, how are you?" Arthur replied softly and closely. His eyes were still fixed on hers in a hypnotic gaze. She wondered if this is how an opossum feels at the moment it realizes that playing dead to an oncoming semi is quite useless and it is about to become another stain on the highway. She also wondered why she was getting so nervous. This was just Arthur after all, different sounding or not. He's definitely not someone who she thought she should fear.

She wrenched her hand away and moved over to the table, slipping a little in the coffee on the floor. She had had enough of Arthur controlling this situation. This was supposed to be her big moment.

"Oh, I'm just fine Arthur. And I'm going to continue to be just fine without you." She smugly concluded this statement with a little head nod which lost its attempted severity in the hilarity of waving jowls and chin flapping. The cat, mistaking the racket for a flock of birds taking wing, bounded into the kitchen and ran smack into Arthur's leg. It stumbled backwards and fell over with a small thud, apparently unconscious. Neither Arthur nor Lorraine gave evidence that they had noticed.

"That's nice for you dear." Arthur said with a sincere smile. Lorraine cocked her head to the side and squinted at him. She wasn't sure if he understood what was transpiring and quite frankly she hadn't the time or energy to care anymore. She had a bus to catch and if she wanted to get the triple seat in the back by the bathroom before anyone else, she had better get moving. Arthur just kept on smiling that smile at her and it was getting on her nerves. Who did he think he was anyway?

"Well, ...uh...'bye!" she said and turned to go down the hall to the front door. This was a mistake on her part because it was at that exact moment that Arthur's eyes clouded over and the smile vanished from his face. He reached under his armpit and produced a sizable ladle that he had hidden there. He followed Lorraine down the hall to the front door and as she bent to retrieve her luggage, he doinked her on the back of her skull three times with tremendous force (Pop! POP! CRACK!), each hit harder than the first. Lorraine made a noise not unlike that of a sea lion and toppled forward. Her luggage did not survive. Blood poured out of the almost perfectly round hole the back of her head and started to pool on the floor.

Arthur stood over her bloated body shaking the ladle and making quick "HA!" exaltations. "I guess Samsonite hadn't thought of that for a stress test, huh?" he asked no one.

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And this is the end of Part II. Well holy shit. What the fuck is going on there? Did somebody really just get murdered with a fucking ladle? Wow. It's like Shakespeare up in this piece. Ok, peeps. Peace out until the next installment which will be next week. Things are gonna start getting weird(er). Laters.

Nerd Out

The Wiff and I went to see the new Star Trek movie last night and it was really fun. I'm not a huge Sci Fi guy and although my dad was a fan of the Star Trek TV series, I wasn't. I liked it, but I could take it or leave it (I liked the Next Generation much better personally...wow, that sounds exactly how I thought it would). My dad was a big fan of science fiction books, TV shows and movies so our house always had some kind of Sci Fi thing going on. I mean, he even liked Space 1999 fer cryin' out loud.

The Star Trek movie was a large, shiny, loud and well-made good time. I'm not going to review it further than that cuz there are much better people with way more talent for reviews out there on the ol' interweb tubes. Just take my word for it, it's worth seeing. And this is from a guy who hates going to the actual theater to see a movie. There's like all those people and stuff there. Ugh. We went to the Revere cinemas and since we had about an hour to kill before the movie started we decided to go have a drinky-poo and some food at the little bar they have there (it's called "Chatters". No, I'm not kidding).

It being Revere, there are...interesting characters there. The ones that caught my eye were this trio of 2 spray-tanned muscle-bound dudes (one shockingly-blonde & thinning up top and the other dude had jet black, slicked back hair and a fruity little pony-tail) in their early 40's with their holy-shit-that-is-awfully-tight-on-you Ed Hardy-esque bedazzled t-shirts and what I can only describe as a "Revere Girl". Look, I'm from Malden so I usually can't pass judgement but I'm doing it now. Wow. She had Lee Press-On everything I think. Let's just say I think she's start to melt before she'd burn is all. They were all sprawled out on a corner of the bar so we grabbed a little table off to the side. I wanted to be close enough so that I could listen in on their conversation (this is Chatters after all right?). Any guess what the subject was? If you said their workout routines and their brief stint in amateur wrestling then you win the prize my friend. Revere Girl contributed a lot of giggling and "wow"s. They also discussed how much Bret Michaels had sold out since the first season of Rock of Love. Go on and read that sentence again please. It was people watching bliss.

Unfortunately we had stupidly already paid for the movie so we couldn't just sit there and soak up the atmosphere. We settled up our tab and headed out to the theater. We'd paid to see the movie in the "Director's Hall" at the Revere cinemas. It's a little more expensive but you have assigned seating with wait service for the usual fair of movie goodies. Oh, and holy crap that shit is expensive. $4.50 for a "regular" popcorn? Goddamn son, that's crazy talk. I got a popcorn to share with the Wiff and a large diet Pepsi (that way the buttered popcorn and the diet beverage would cancel each other out you see...I'm always thinking) and the Wiff got a bottled water. Total cost was $14. I nearly shit. But I paid up and sat back to enjoy the movie.

About 3/4 of the way through the previews a stray popcorn kernel shell adhered itself to the back of my esophagus and I started choking. Awesome. So now I'm coughing and hacking while trying to decide if I need someone to actually intervene (for what would have been my THIRD Heimlich maneuver in my lifetime by the way...) when the shell in question came rocketing out of my mouth and landed on the seat in front of me. I was kinda disappointed that no one was sitting there because it was such a beautiful arc the thing took. My eyes were streaming with tears and my throat was killing me. Ok, no more popcorn for me for the rest of the evening. Crap. Stupid hair trigger choke reflex.

Without giving anything away about the movie itself, there are issues that I have with what movies in general think the human body can withstand. There's a scene where someone (not saying who so stop yer whining) jumps from a very high place onto a walkway and just barely makes it. He slams into the landing with his torso and grabs onto it with his arms. I know it's a movie and all but all I could think about was the amount of broken ribs he'd have if that actually happened. And this guy just gets right up and starts fighting some more. Hmph. Is it nit picking on my part and they are leaving these details out in name of moving the story along? I dunno but it certainly bugs me. I'm going to notice stuff like that and it can on occassion make me distracted enough to impact how I regard the film/movie/what-have-you. With regard to injuries that a character has sustained, if you've been in a big ol' brawl and yer mug gets all busted up and then a couple of scenes later you get into ANOTHER brawl (um, with a character that's supposed to be waaaaay stronger than you) and your injuries don't seem to get any worse, then that's going to distract me. No broken nose? No loose or missing teefs? Really? Have you ever been hit repeatedly in the face? It's not fun. Things rip and come apart. And they don't heal in a couple of minutes either. Not adhering to time passing pisses me off as well. I'm not the only one that this bugs either. I like continuity.

This not just a Sci Fi movie thing, it happens in a lot in media. At least in a Sci Fi flick they can maybe explain injury "issues" away with the "advanced medical treatment" b.s. or something. But that brings up another bone to pick that I had with the most recent Battlestar Galactica series. There were plenty of things that I loved about the series but one thing that stood out (among others surely but let me try to stay focused for a second here) was the seeming LACK of advanced medical treatments. Now in this case maybe they can explain it away by saying that there WAS advanced medical treatments available back on the planet that got all blowed up but since they were running bare-bones out in the middle of nowhere they didn't have access to any of it. But I'd like to think that by the time we are flying at light speed through galaxies and crap that we'd maybe have a cure for cancer. Or at least have a better way of treating a gun shot wound. Nit picking again, I know, I know.

I'm no fun to be with when watching these shows on TV either by the way. Especially if it's at home and I have the remote. The Wiff'll tell you all about TV viewing with yours truly. Here's a typical excerpt: [pauses DVR] "How come they haven't developed better armor for the soldiers by now? A simple bullet can get through that shit they're wearing but the spaceship has crazy advanced force fields or whatever?" [pushes glasses up on nose and takes a sip of scotch] "Also, how come when the Chief wanted 40 seconds to save 8 people of his crew before they were jettisoned into space Tigh said it was too long to wait? Then later on they spend fucking DAYS looking for ONE PERSON who is most likely dead?!" [Wiff rolls eyes and sighs]. I'm quite the prize, she's a lucky, lucky woman.