A test of my patience and resolve.

The date is Friday, May 15th, 2009. I’ll come back to finish this in… four years. That’s Wednesday, May 15th, 2013. See you then.

… Probably.

A nice picture someone drew.

I found this after exploring the squidi.net forums. I was under the impression it was based on Maxim, one of the heros of “A Modest Destiny”, one of the comics on that site. It turns out it wasn’t, but it’s still cool.

Hero Digital Test Sketch 1

Holy shit! An amazing movie! Wanted.

Right, so this is about a film I saw called Wanted. It’s pure action, and the story is a little weak in parts. I mean, the premise is that a bunch of weavers decided to make a secret guild of assassins… um, okay. There are a few other weak points, but I don’t want to spoil them.

Now, my favorite way to describe this film is that they “reinvented The Matrix.” Not for the big shocking plot twist (which I won’t say in case someone somehow hasn’t seen it). But for little details of the story setup, for one thing. For instance, let’s compare Wesley Gibson and Thomas Anderson. What do they have in common? They both work dull office jobs they hate. They’re both losers; Wesley is a pushover who will never get anywhere in life, and Mr. Anderson lives his life on the internet as his hacker alias Neo. In other words, he’s a geek with no social life. Then, they’re recruited into organizations that scream badass. They realize their true potential; skill and power that they had all along, locked inside of them, waiting to resurface.

And then, the more interesting similarity between the two films is the characters’ ability to bend the laws of physics. In Wanted, one character jumps out a window in an office building, and lands on top of another building across the street. Characters make their cars barrel roll over other cars, without even trading paint. And the coolest feat, of course, is when they make bullets arc. If they need to shoot a target, but something is in the direct line of fire, and whip their hand around as they fire, like they’re throwing a curve-ball in baseball. It sounds really cheesy, but the director, or actors, or editor, or whoever makes it really cool.

I don’t want to spoil anything, so I’ll just finish by saying some of the actors. It has Angelina Jolie, Morgan Freeman, and  the main character, James McAvoy. McAvoy’s acting was a little stale at first, but he recovered quickly. Overall a great movie. Go see it if you haven’t. Not for children obviously.

Fu out.

A blog about life after life.

Yes, I’ve grown quite addicted to my new favorite CANCELLED >:( show, Dead Like Me. I’m on season 2, episode 6. I got there between Friday and tonight. Yeah, two or three episodes a day, perhaps more. I have trouble remembering things. It must be more.

There are a number of things I love about this show. One thing, I won’t deny, is that Ellen Muth is quite attractive. Hey, I’m only human (and adolescent). Now I’ll get more serious. I think my favorite thing about it is its outlook on death. It’s rare to see such a light, optimistic take on a subject so taboo. It’s very refreshing, and actually kind of comforting. I think Rube has a great philosophy. He doesn’t question the process, nor where the destination is. He just accepts it. Overall the series is very deep, and full of symbolism.

I also like the acting. Ellen is very funny, and she sort of drifts through her life (well, not exactly), not quite certain what it will bring next. Being 18 myself, I feel a little sympathetic to how she feels. The rest of the cast are good too. I like Mason a lot. Hopeless bastard.

I’m not crazy about the drama of George’s family. They all just kind of get on my nerves. Still, I can respect the subplot, and I’m kind of interested to see where it’s going. Maybe Reggie will stop being such a bitch, so that her mum can stop being such a bitch. Though she’s really a bitch because of her ex-husband, not Reggie.

After I finish the series, I plan on getting the film, which apparently ties up any loose ends. I don’t know what they will be yet, obviously, but I will soon enough. Like I feel about a video game, I look forward to finishing it, but I dread having nothing new to discover with it.

I’ll probably update this after I finish the series, and then again after I see the movie. Maybe I’ll write a letter to the network after I finish, asking them to bring the show back. I know it’s pointless, but it would make me feel good that I’m being active for something I believe in.

Mmmm…. lasagna. :)

Yep, last night my dad and I made our most complicated meal: Lasagna. Tasty! What was even better is my horribly unorganized friend made it over to join us. We were going to watch three or four movies, too. What sucked was my stupidity.

See, I take pills. I also have trouble sleeping sometimes. My doctor told me that if I take my Geodon with dinner (meaning with food and at about 6 p.m.), I’ll probably sleep better. And when I remember to, I usually do. But last evening, I really wish I had forgotten to take them on time.

It’s actually not that I forgot they would knock me out. I just didn’t think it would be so quick. I was pissed at myself as I asked Zack to leave halfway through the first movie. I told him I was falling asleep, and that we should try again next weekend. I was in bed by 7:30 or so. Damn it.

So NEXT weekend, I’ll hold off on the pills until about midnight. Ugh, I always feel like an old man when I say “I’ve taken my pills.”

Well, that is all. I’ll write another quick blog like this, but it’s going on GAP. It’s about Wicked, the novel this time.

Fu out.

A short story by yours truly

 

Grudge Forgotten

by Luc Pollard

 

 There we were, seated at the small table. Eating cookies.

“Well, Maggie. They’re… um, they’re good. Really,” I said between slow, laborious chewing. She shouldn’t have been allowed in the kitchen, such was her “cooking”. Not wanting to offend her, I held back the urge to take a large swig of milk to wash the little charcoal briquettes down. God, all I wanted to do is swallow them and get it over with. But my gag reflex wasn’t going down without a fight. Meanwhile, master chef Maggie just looked daggers at me.

“If you don’t like, them just say so,” she snarled.

“I don’t like them,” Clark said hastily, “Can I spit them out now?”

There was a moment of nervous silence as all eyes fixed on Maggie. But slowly a wide grin spread across her face. Then she suddenly burst into hysterical laughter, doubling over. We all watched, bewildered.

Finally recovering, she sat up and giggled, “That was so worth it. You should have seen your faces. Were you actually crying, Luc?”

 Blushing furiously, I answered hotly, “I had tears coming out my eyes. I wasn’t crying.”

“Hey, I saw what I saw,” she taunted in a sing-song voice.

“You’re sadistic,” I muttered as I drained my glass.

“Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never hurt me,” she laughed again.

“Right, let’s go get some sticks and stones,” Clark grumbled. “Or maybe we should give you a taste of your own medicine. These ‘cookies’ are like rocks anyway.”

“That’s the last time you’ll get us with that one,” I declared, wishing I sounded more confident.

“Yeah, suuuure,” she mocked, “that’s what you said last time. And the time before that. And the time before that.”

The three of us stormed out, leaving Maggie to call after us, “AND THE TIME BEFORE THAT!”

*     *     *

We were an odd group, the four of us. I was 18, Clark was 19, Will was 20, and Maggie was 23. But despite the age gaps, we were inseparable. And of course, being best friends with someone meant you were allowed to make fun of them to no end.

“Look, I don’t care what you say, Luc. There’s nothing wrong with my voice! And being older than you, that gives me the right to end this conversation, now!”

“Well well, Mister Clark Myer, you can care as little as you wish, and exercise your right all you want. I still say your voice is at least a little annoying. Come on guys, back me up here,” I said.

“Heh, no comment,” snickered Will.

“Well, if you want my honest opinion, I’d have to say that of the four of us, Luc, your voice is actually the most annoying,” Maggie said, rolling her eyes.

“What? What’s wrong with it?” I yelped, realizing I was about to become the butt of my own joke.

“Well, it’s kind of nasally,” she replied, winking at Clark.

“Yeah,” Clark cut in, “and high-pitched!”

“And a bit whiney sometimes,” added Will, now hardly able to keep himself from cracking up.

“I… you… that’s not…”

I was suddenly interrupted by what I can only describe as broken glass being dragged across a chalkboard, and then landing on a foul tempered cat. I hated that ringtone on Maggie’s phone, but I couldn’t deny, it had just saved my ass.

“Hello,” Maggie said brightly, “Yes, speaking.” Suddenly, her face went pale.

“Oh god, is she alright?… oh my god… yeah, okay. Thank you.”

She hung up, looking even paler now. No one said anything for what felt like an eternity. Finally, Will spoke up.

“Mags? What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“You guys remember my older sister, Julia?” she whispered, lips trembling.

None of us did. Truth be told, we hadn’t known she had a sister at all. But we all nodded anyway.

“Well, she’s… she’s…” she took a deep breath. “She’s dead. And so is her family.”

“What?” I gasped, “How?”

“H-highway accid-d-dent,” she stammered. “I have to go to the morgue and identify the…” she didn’t bother finishing.

We walked back to the house in silence. We watched her get into her car and drive off in silence. And we sat on the front steps, and waited, in deafening silence.

*     *     *

The funeral was heart-rending. We may not have known Julia or her family personally, but Maggie was like a sister to us, so what pain she felt, we suffered as well. We stood dutifully next to her, dressed in black and looking solemn. That was a rarity for us. My hair was actually presentable, and Will had left his trademark cowboy hat at home, and refrained from jabbering on about planes and aerial battles.

When we got home Maggie still wasn’t talking. She hadn’t said a word to any of us since she  got the call. She went straight to her room and locked the door. We had never seen her cry, and we didn’t go to listen through her door to see if she was now. We knew she was. Her mother had died in labor, and her father, blaming Maggie for the death, left her to be raised by her sister. Now, with Julia gone too, Maggie was alone.

I knew our company as friends was little consolation. I had lost my parents in a fire when I was sixteen, and my brother was taken from me in a plane crash on his way back to visit me from school in Australia. I had refused to go live with my relatives in Australia; I felt like I barely knew them. I began to withdraw from the world, and later fell into severe post traumatic stress, which lasted for months. I was admitted to a psychiatric hospital, where I didn’t talk to or interact with anyone.

Eventually I stopped eating. But then one day, a friendly face showed up in my room. I had been locked inside myself for so long I didn’t recognize Clark for the first few visits. But slowly he pulled me back into reality. He visited me every day, each time bringing someone else I had once known. Will, a friend I’ve known most of my life, talked to me for over an hour, telling me how much everyone missed me. Even an old friend, whom I sometimes called Uncle Eddy because of his close friendship with my late mother, made the trip down from Canada, to bring me well-wishes and a tin of cookies. That was the first time I had smiled in almost a year.

And then, on the edge of recovery, Clark brought Maggie. Maggie was the blessing in disguise I needed. She understood my apprehension towards my distant family, and said she was living with Clark and Will, and wouldn’t hesitate to take me in if I wanted her to. Whatever part of me that was still suffering had leapt out of the darkness, and from then on I was happy again.

So as I sat on the couch, remembering all this, I realized I couldn’t let the same thing happen to Maggie; not after all she had done for me. I got up and rapped lightly on the door.

“Maggie?” No response, except for a quiet sniffling.

“Maggie, you once helped me escape the prison you’re now walking into. I’m here to return the favor.”

The lock clicked. I paused for a moment, cracked the door, slid through, and closed it behind me.

Click.

 

I had certainly gotten Maggie to open up and start talking. I actually had had trouble getting a word in edgewise. Not that it mattered. She needed to talk, and I needed to listen. When we came back out, two hours later, Clark was on his Playstation 3, shooting bad guys, saving the day, and all that jazz. Upon seeing us he quickly shut it down.

“You feeling any better, Mags?”

Maggie gave him a weak smile. “Yeah, I think I’ll be alright. I just need time.”

Just then Will burst in through the front door, out of breath. After a minute he gasped, “Found… something… out.” We waited another minute, and finally he had his breath back. “I went to the police station, to find out exactly what happened to make Julia crash. And after I explained who I was, one of the officers told me that another driver ran into her!”

Maggie’s face suddenly went rigid.

“Yeah, he was talking on his cell phone, and he got distracted, lost control of the car, and took Julia down!”

“God,” I growled, “Stupid bastard.”

“But there’s something weird about it,” Will went on. “When the cops and ambulances got there, the guy on the phone was more or less okay. So after he was released from the hospital, he was taken into custody for questioning. That’s how they found out he was on a cell phone.”

“What’s weird about that?” I asked impatiently, suspecting Will was about to make this a lot more complicated than it actually was.

“Well, after the questioning he made bail. All one-hundred-thousand dollars. In cash. The officer also told me that when they had searched him beforehand, that’s all that was in his wallet. Not a penny more. No credit cards either. Hell, his driver’s license was in the glove compartment of his car. So I ask you, who carries around a wallet with nothing in it but the exact amount of cash needed to make bail for ‘accidentally’ killing a family in a car crash?”

“Someone who doesn’t have much faith in their own driving skills?” I ventured hopelessly.

“No,” Maggie seethed, shaking uncontrollably, “Someone who plans on killing a family in a car crash.”

 

“We should go to the police,” I shouted.

“Luc,” Will sighed, “I’ve been to the police, remember? I asked them everything about it, but they said there wasn’t enough evidence to warrant an investigation, and that I should just go home and forget about it.”

“And that’s it?” I probed.

“Yeah, that’s it.” he moaned.

“That’s not right,” Clark said sharply. “The point of an investigation is to discover evidence! I’ll bet the assassin paid the cops off. I mean if he has ten-thousand dollars in his wallet, he probably has more at his disposal.”

“It wasn’t the assassin who bribed them,” Maggie said grimly. “It would have to be an enormous amount of money to shut them up, and someone with that kind of money doesn’t just get in a car and ram into another car at high speed on a busy highway. With that kind of money, why endanger your own life, when you could just pay someone else to do it for you. It may be a crazy thing to do, but everyone has their price. Especially contract killers.”

“So what do we do now?” I asked nervously, not sure I wanted to know the answer.

“We find the son of a bitch that did this, and bring him to justice. Our way,” she said steadily.

“Our way?” I replied, searching her face for answers.

“…My way.”

*     *     *

So, after arranging with our neighbor to house-sit while we were gone, we packed into Maggie’s VW Bug, and headed off to… wherever. Will was driving west, for lack of any better ideas, and Maggie sat turned around in the front passenger’s seat, so she, Clark and I could ‘plan’. The problem was, none of us knew the first thing about tracking down a hit man.

“We don’t even know what he looks like,” Clark said glumly.

“Oh, well the cop I talked to gave me this,” Will piped up, as he took out a photo from his coat pocket and passed it back.

“The cop gave you this?” I said incredulously. “The bribed cop gave you this?”

“Well, he waited until his buddies left the room. In fact, he didn’t tell me anything useful until they left. Maybe he’s on our side.”

“Jesus, he’s taking a big risk for us,” Clark said solemnly.

“Yeah, if the killer were to find out he helped us…” Maggie trailed off for a second, unsure if she actually wanted to speak the consequences. Finally she simply ended with, “What a trooper.”

I looked carefully at the photograph. Somewhat tall, medium build, short, neatly combed black hair. Mature, but not old. Perhaps old enough to be good at his job. He wore a business suit that suggested he had expensive tastes, but also a sickly green tie that suggested he didn’t have any taste at all. Nonetheless, he looked pretty normal. The only thing memorable about him were his bright blue eyes. They were almost  hypnotic, and ironically very friendly looking. Those eyes belonged to a guy you could have a chat about sports with, or invite over for a family barbecue. Then again, maybe he did do those things, and he only killed people part-time.

“Alright, great,” I said as I handed the photo to Clark, “so we know what he looks like. We still have to find him, and he could be four states over by-” I was cut off as Will slammed the brakes, throwing me into the back of his seat. He later told me I should have buckled up. Safety first.

“I don’t think finding him will be a problem,” Will said disbelievingly.

“Why not,” I said, struggling to make the world stand still, “have you figured out where he is?”

“Yeah, you could say that. I just figured out that he’s lying on the road in front of the car, possibly with a broken leg.”

Maggie was out her door like a shot, and had dragged the semi-conscious man over to the side of the car before we were half-way out.

“Who sent you?” she spat at him.

The man just groaned, those strange blue eyes vacant and unfocused. Maggie slapped him. Hard. He fell onto the asphalt, and she pulled him back up by his collar. There was blood leaking from his mouth now.

“Who sent you?” she barked again.

“Uh, Mags,” I said nervously, “do you really think we should be doing this out in public? I mean, sure it’s the suburbs and everyone’s at work, but still, shouldn’t we-”

“Luc, we’ve been through a lot together, and you know I love you like a brother, so don’t take this the wrong way. But I really need you to shut up right now.”

That sank in pretty heavily. To say she meant business would be an understatement. She stared at the man, now coming around, like a rabid dog.

“Who… sent… you?”

Finally the assassin was back in the real world. He smiled coolly at her. “You must be Maggie. After she watched her husband take his last breath, Julia kept saying your name, over and over again.”

Maggie pulled back and slammed her fist into his nose as hard as she could.

“WHO SENT YOU?” she screamed.

“Then she started crying, maybe because her kids in the back seat were dead, or maybe because I had previously disabled her airbag, which left her in some… discomfort.”

Maggie jumped up and kicked him square in the mouth, slamming his head back against the car door.

“So, might I add, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Maggie.”

Her foot found his right eye.

“And you,” he said turning to me, “Luc.”

Then his left.

“My name is… well, you can call me Charles.”

Maggie stood panting. “Okay, Charles, let’s try something a little more extreme, since you just seem to be enjoying yourself.” She opened his jacket.

Puzzled, Charles muttered, “What the hell, where is my gun?” Maggie held it up matter-of-factly. She had always been good at those sleight of hand card tricks, and now she had gotten to use her skill in a real life application. Though this certainly didn’t feel real.

There was a flash of panic in Charles’s face (what was left of it anyway) for a split second, but then the cool self-assurance returned.

“Is the little girl gonna kill me with my own gun?”

“Maybe.”

“Does she know how to use it? She might hurt herself.”

Maggie put on a look of mock contemplation.

“Maybe you’re right. Oh I know! I’ll test it!” And with that said, she lowered the gun to Charles’s broken leg, and shot him in the knee.

Being a professional, someone who probably had to deal with this sort of thing every once in a while, I had expected Charles to take the pain a little better than he did. Then again, I’d never been shot in the kneecap before. Will had thought quickly and clamped a hand over Charles’s mouth, but I was still sure people three blocks over could hear his howling. Eventually, Maggie said quietly,

“Who paid you to kill my sister?”

“Bardon,” Charles gasped between waves of pain and nausea, “Mr. Bardon.”

Maggie went very quiet and still. At length, she said slowly, “As in, Seth Bardon?”

“Y..yes.” Charles saw the world going dark, and then he fell in a heap on the ground. Maggie was just staring into space.

“Seth. Bardon… dad?”

Suddenly she snapped back to attention.

“Put him in the trunk, we gotta get out of here, and fast,” she instructed. I was tempted to retort, ‘Oh, ya think?’, but now didn’t seem the time to throw sarcasm her way, unless I wanted to join Charles in the trunk.

Once we were settled, we drove down the road, got onto the interstate, left Connecticut behind us, and rode off into the sunset. In any other story, this could have been the end. But for us, and Charles, it was only the beginning.

*     *     *

Charles woke with a start. He was instantly aware of a few things. First, his leg was on fire. He couldn’t remember what was causing the pain, but it certainly hurt like hell. Second, it was dark. Third, it was quiet. Silent, in fact. He was still trying to figure out what was going on when he heard faint voices, coming closer. Before he could identify the speakers, he was bathed in bright light. Great, now he was blind, too.

“We figured you might be thirsty, so I got you a bottle of water at a gas station,” said one of the figures above him. When his eyes finally adjusted, and he saw it was Maggie who had spoken, it all came flooding back. The highway job, his slip-up and capture, the horrible pain in his leg; it all played back in his head in the blink of an eye.

“Thanks,” he said grudgingly, managing to keep his voice steady.

“And here’s some of Will’s leftover painkiller pills from when he broke his arm,” she continued.

“I don’t suppose he got shot in that arm.” he grumbled.

Amazingly, Maggie laughed. It wasn’t a sadistic or cruel laugh. It was her happy, good-natured laugh, as if Charles were an old friend who had just told a witty joke. It seemed she had gone off the deep end.

“Charles,” she sighed as she recovered, “I need to find Seth. And it looks like no matter how much painkiller we give you, you need to find a hospital. Can we agree on that?”

Charles popped two of the pills into his mouth and took a swig of water. “That we can.”

“So I think it’s safe to say we can help each other.”

“So it would seem.”

“In that case, how does a deal sound to you?”

Charles took a long look at his broken, bloody leg. He looked up at Maggie and said with a wry smile (and those bright blue eyes which seemed to double in size), “Do I have a choice?”

Maggie gave him a wide, toothy grin and said, “We could leave you here, in the woods, miles from the highway, if you’d prefer.”

“Alright, Maggie, let’s talk.”

Maggie looked extremely proud of herself, and said in her cheery voice, “Where is he? Where’s Seth?”

Charles paused thoughtfully for a second, then said “He’s in Texas. I can’t say what city, since he doesn’t live anywhere near civilization. Just somewhere out in the middle of nowhere, in the western region. And a word to the wise, since you seem so intent on going to see him… why do you think you found me so easily? What do you think I was doing in your neighborhood? Sightseeing?”

Maggie was taken aback. She hadn’t given it much thought.

“You mean, I was-”

“The next target, yes. So don’t go introducing yourself to every Tom Dick and Harry when you get there. He has spies, I’m sure of it. I mean, he has assassins, whom he pays quite a lot of money,” Charles smiled to himself, “so it’s likely he has spies too.”

“How did he get so much money?” Maggie asked curiously.

“How the hell should I know? I’m just the guy who takes out the trash. Er,” he added hurriedly, “No offense. But that’s about all I know.”

Satisfied, Maggie put Charles’s arm around her shoulder, and began to lift him up.

“We’d better get going. You can sit on a seat this time. Clark, get the towel from under my seat. Oof, god you’re heavy.” She stumbled. “Will, help me carry him. Sorry Charles, but this is going to hurt like hell.”

“Yeah, what else is new,” Charles grunted.

“Wait!” I exclaimed. “You’re going to trust what he says, just like that? How do we know he isn’t lying?”

Seeing my point, Will and Maggie lowered their burden slightly, resting him on the edge of the open trunk. Charles winced. We waited, watching Charles expectantly. Clark was peeking around from the front seat, towel in hand.

“Alright,” Charles said, resigned to more talking (he was a man of action, and preferred to act as such), “let’s examine my situation. My leg, thanks to you, is mangled, probably beyond full repair. I may never walk without some sort of support again. So I pretty much have to retire. A man in my profession has to be able to move as quickly as he has to think, and that’s no longer possible. So what are my options? As far as I can see, I have one. I take the nice sum of money I was paid up front, and go into hiding. This will work, but only as long as Mr. Bardon doesn’t find me, and only as long as he thinks you’re dead, Maggie. He didn’t pay me in person, and doesn’t know what I look like, since I make it a point to remain anonymous with my clients, so that will buy me some time. But neither of those conditions will hold out forever. However, if I help you find him, and you do what I have a strong feeling you plan on doing, he’ll be out of my hair forever, and this could turn out profitable for me after all. Aside from the crippled leg, that is. Can we go now? I’m not sure I have much blood left to lose.”

After seating Charles between Clark and me, in what could hardly be described as a comfortable position for anyone, we made for the nearest city. The towel worked for the most part, but Charles was already soaked from lying in a pool of his own blood in the trunk. No doubt the trunk was going to stink next time we needed to open it. We’d just have to cross that bridge when we got to it.

Finally we pulled into a hospital parking lot in Nashville. I was grateful for the sign, because I had lost track of what state we were in. Tennessee, got it. We were debating how to do this, when Clark spoke up, saying he’d bring him in. We watched from the windows as they marched in, Charles leaning heavily on Clark, Clark trying not to gag from the thick stench of blood seeping into his clothes.

Ten minutes later, Clark returned.

“So what did you tell them?” Will said anxiously.

Clark sort of giggled, but it was more manly than a giggle, of course. “I told them that he was an undercover agent, who had been exposed, captured and tortured by his target, before he managed to escape back to his nearby safe house, where I took him from to here, since we couldn’t risk calling attention to him by using an ambulance. I instructed them to keep his admittance a secret, and they would be contacted when the time came.”

“And they bought that?” I scoffed.

“Hook, line and sinker. I’m telling you, half the battle of bullshitting someone is to sound like you know what you’re talking about. Plus Charles backed me up. The rest just depends on whether the other guy can prove you wrong.”

At that we broke into peals of side-splitting laughter. Will started driving again before we had calmed down.

“We should… hee hee hee… look for a motel,” choked Maggie.

 And looked for one we did. When we found one, they sent me in to get the room, since I had the least amount of blood on me. Or at least the least noticeable. We only had enough cash on us for one room. When I returned to the car, they had already worked out the order of showers. I was the unlucky last. While Maggie was washing up, Will took her clothes down a few doors to the coin-operated washer and dryer the desk clerk had told me about. Maybe he smelled something funky on me. Not that I would know anything about that.

Finally, a little before 1, I stepped into the shower and let the soothing water wash away my cares.

“JESUS CHRIST!” I leapt out faster than a jackrabbit. Walking over to the door, I opened it slightly and snapped at the three of them, “You jerks could have left me a little hot water.”

“Where’d be the fun in that?” Clark mumbled drowsily. He was sprawled out on the floor next to the bed, as was Maggie on the other side. Will lay snoring on the bed, dangerously close to the edge.

“I suppose you’ve already worked out the sleeping arrangements, too.” I grumbled. No answer. I silently prayed Will would fall off the bed and crush Clark, and then I went back to finish my freezing water torture as quickly as possible.

 

Maggie always was an early riser. Not one of those perky, ‘rise and shine sleepyhead’ types, but at 6 in the morning, when you’d only had five hours of sleep, she still pissed you off.

“Come on guys, we gotta get going now.” She nudged my shoulder with the toe of her boot.

“Mmmfuggov…”

“Come on guys!”

“You know,” Will said with effort, “the great thing about having a car, is you can choose when and where it goes. It’s not leaving without us.”

“Fine,” she sulked. “But at 8 we’re outta here.” She sat down in a chair and stared out the window.

“Sounds like a pla…” Will yawned, and turned over.

“GAH! GET OFF OF ME YOU STUPID TON OF BRICKS!”

Ahh, so karma does work. I smiled and went back to sleep.

 

“Are we there yet?” Will whined. He enjoyed driving, and he was making it known that he did not like sitting in the back seat, as he was now. Especially when every inch of space he wasn’t taking up was filled with bottles of water. We were going into a desert, looking for a house, estate, fortress or whatever that could be anywhere, so we weren’t taking any chances with dehydration. The AC was off to conserve gas, so we were all panting like dogs. My shirt was glued to the seat. At least I was in the front now.

“Look, you had your turn at the wheel. Now it’s my turn,” Clark said through gritted teeth.

“Whatever, it’s not fair,” Will said, staring absentmindedly out the window. He was only half doing this because he wanted the driver’s seat back. He also just wanted to see how much he could piss Clark off.

“Are we there yet?“

“Yeah, actually we are,” Clark said dryly, and stopped the car. Then he pulled the lever under his seat, and pushed as far back as the seat would go, into Will’s knees. Then he lurched the car forward, out of a large bank of sand.

“Oh that’s cold, man,” Will shifted uncomfortably, dumping a couple empty bottles onto Maggie’s lap.

“Please,” I croaked, finishing another bottle, “don’t mention cold.”

Not that there was much to take our minds off the heat. Even the water was hot. I watched the cacti whiz by. Well, crawl by. This wasn’t exactly an all terrain vehicle. Sand was spewing out the back wheels like snow out a snowblower. God how I missed snow. It was strange, but if I imagined it very intently, I could see faint tire tracks in the sand. They were running parallel with our direction, but as I craned my head out the window I saw them veer off to the right. I figured I must be getting dehydrated again, so I reached for another bottle. I wasn’t really watching what I was doing, since I was busy pretending there were tracks in the sand. Suddenly, the bottle slipped through my sweat drenched fingers, bounced on the window edge, and flew up and out.

“Shit!”

“What?” asked Clark, desperate for an excuse to ignore Will’s complaints.

“I dropped a full bottle out the window.”

“We don’t have many left,” Maggie said worryingly. You should probably go get it.

“Yeah, definitely, every bottle counts,” agreed Clark, as he stopped the car again.

I opened my door, greeted with a blast of even hotter air, and glanced back.

“Yeah, I see it. I’ll be right back.”

I started to make my way over to it, when the three of them chorused,

“Shut the damn door!” Right, that. I went back and slammed it. I tried to catch their faces, to see if maybe at least one of them felt sorry for me, but I was met with darkly tinted windows. God knows why Maggie picked them. Nonetheless, faces or no faces, I got the impression of three impatient tapping feet.

As I ambled towards the lone bottle, I realized that my imaginary tracks looked very real up close. I bent over and picked up the object of my clumsiness, and examined the tracks even further. I even touched them. They felt real.

 I jogged back to the car (sprinting was out of the question) and said excitedly, “I think I’ve got something!”

“Yeah,” Clark said, annoyed, “I can see it in your hand. It’s called a water bottle.”

“No no, get out here, all of you. I found tracks!”

“What kind of tracks? Like a lizard or something?” Will said with interest.

“Tire  tracks, genius. And considering they’re still visible, I’d say they’re recent.”

They scrambled out, letting dozens of empty bottles spill from their doors.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Maggie marveled, relieved we were actually getting somewhere now.

“I wonder how long I was following them,” Clark grinned sheepishly. “Well, it’s not getting any cooler here, so let’s get going and see where they end.”

“I second that motion,” called Will from the driver’s seat.

“Oh the hell you do! Get your ass out of my seat!”

“Finders keepers!”

Maggie and I looked at each other, and smiled knowingly.

 

“Jerk,” pouted Clark.

“You started it,” Will retorted.

“Now boys, don’t make me come back there,” Maggie gloated from the wheel.

“So why do you get to say who drives, huh Maggie?” Clark still pouted.

“Well Clark,” I said in that holier-than-thou tone everybody hates, “b eing older than you, that gave her the right to end that conversation.”

“Ouch,” Maggie chuckled.

Clark didn’t talk much after that. The tracks were starting to become faded, when we saw something on the horizon. It wasn’t a house. It wasn’t an estate. It most certainly wasn’t a fortress. It was just a little square building, made of stone the color of the surrounding sand. In front was a small booth, presumably housing a guard. As we drew near, Clark spoke up again.

“Maggie, maybe you shouldn’t get too close. You are supposed to be dead, after all. Let me go in ahead.”

“And do what?” she asked skeptically.

“Half the battle of bullshitting someone is to sound like you know what you’re talking about. It’s been proven I can do that.”

“Heh, oookay,” she said as he opened his door, “Don’t have too much fun in there.”

“Of course not.” He winked at her, then shut the door and walked towards the booth. As he drew near, he pulled from his shirt pocket a pair of sunglasses, which he thought made him look more suave.

 

Having donned the shades, he walked up to the window of the booth and knocked three times. It was very thick glass. Perhaps bullet-proof. “Seth must have more enemies than his daughter,” Clark thought to himself.

“Who are you supposed to be?” a voice brought him back to attention. Instantly Clark was in character.

“My name is… well, you can call me Charles.”

“And what do you think you’re doing here, Charles?”

“I’m here to see Mr. Bardon.”

“Sorry kid, you’ve got the wrong place. There’s no person called Bardon here.” Clark wasn’t phased. He had been ready for this.

“I’m terribly sorry, how silly of me. But would you please ask your employer if he knows where I might find Mr. Bardon? I need to discuss with him the tragic recent passing of his daughter.”

The glassed in man must have pushed a button, because when he picked up a phone and spoke into it, Clark could no longer hear his voice.

Finally the guard looked back at Clark and said to him, “How did you know Mr. Bardon’s daughter?”

Clark smiled meaningfully at him. “I took out her trash.”

More silent talking.

“You don’t look like you were her… you know…”

“Assassin?” Clark thought to himself. No, that would be overdoing it. “I may be young,” he said in what he hoped sounded like a very Charles way of talking, “but I know what I’m doing.” Maybe he was having a little too much fun.

“What about your clothes? A tee-shirt and jeans? And you’re driving a green bug?”

Clark sighed impatiently, as if he had to deal with this all the time. “Listen, do I look like an assassin to you?”

“No!”

“Precisely. Why would a contract killer want to look like a contract killer? We’re not exactly popular in society.”

The guard gave him one last searching glare, then said grudgingly, “Okay, point taken. Drive in through the gate, then take the ramp down into the garage. Oh and sorry about holding you up Charles. Mr. Bardon rarely sees his agents in person, so you never can be too careful. He doesn’t want just anyone waltzing in here.”

“I know just what you mean.”

 

We pulled into the underground garage, and when I opened my door, we all sighed with relief as cool air rushed in.

“Well, let’s go get em,” Will said enthusiastically. He had filled up his book of MadLibs pretty early, and had been bored since we left the road, much to Clark’s suffering.

“No,” Clark admonished, “he’ll no doubt have guards everywhere. Let me go in, and I’ll bring him out here. You guys just hide somewhere.

Will cursed as Clark walked away towards a side door. And now, we waited.

“You think he’ll be alright?” I said warily. “Doctors and gate guards are one thing, but now he’s going into the lion’s den, to convince a psychopath to follow him back to us.”

“Well, it’s a little late to be worrying about that,” Maggie pointed out. “But if he’s not back in ten minutes, we go in after him.”

Ten minutes came and went surprisingly quickly. So did the next ten. It was only after half an hour did one of us summon the courage to stand up.

“Alright, come on,” Maggie said unsurely, taking a step away from the van we were crouched behind.

Suddenly the door Clark had entered opened, and Maggie jumped back into cover with a squeak of surprise.

“…and so you brought her here?” an unseen voice asked casually, as if its owner were bored.

“Yes, I did,” Clark said as he stepped out, holding the door as if the person following really was his employer, whom he held in the highest respect. As Seth stepped out, we took in everything we could from this distance. He wasn’t as old as I had expected; he may have been in his late thirties, maybe early fourties. He was very tall, had broad shoulders, and a face that sent a shiver down my spine. This was someone who commanded authority wherever he went. Assuming he ever left his desolate stronghold. His arms were muscular, visible even through his clearly expensive, yet professional business suit.

Clark went to the trunk of the bug, and waited for Seth to catch up. Maggie started taking her boots off. Clark pulled the latch and lifted the door. Maggie was halfway across the concrete floor, silently padding towards the pair. Clark put on an impressive display of anger and alarm.

“What the hell? Where’d she go? I swear, I had her locked in when I got in here.”

“Well,” Seth said impassively, wrinkling his nose at the dried blood, “perhaps you should look for her.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Seth whirled around to find himself staring down the barrel of a .357 revolver, shortly followed by a young woman wearing no shoes, and looking more deadly than the gun in her hand.

“Hiya pop.”

 

Immediately Seth dropped to his knees and started blubbering and crying. “Oh my god! Thank goodness you’re okay! When I heard about Julia, I-I-I didn’t know what to do! I was so worried about you! I thought they would come for you next and I-”

“Save it. The real Charles told me everything.”

His attention immediately snapped to Clark, who stood smirking beside Maggie, as were Will and I now.

“So,” Seth said impassively again, his demeanor flipped in an instant, “I’ve been fooled. Congratulations. I suppose you’re here for your revenge.”

“You could say that.”

“Well I suggest you think fast. There’s a camera right above us, and I imagine my guards are on their way. You’re lucky you came during a shift swift, that will have bought you some time. But waiting here for me to come out wasted most of your head start.”

Maggie showed the same flash of panic Charles had displayed when Maggie took his gun, but it was too brief for Seth to notice.

“Fine, I’ll think fast.” She deftly swung the gun and landed a heavy blow on Seth’s temple, making his legs fold under him, and he crumpled like a paper bag. She lifted him up with great effort and dumped him in the trunk unceremoniously.

“Hold on,” I said quickly. I began rifling through his pockets, until I found the object I needed. I pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket, and opening the slot in the back, removed the tiny chip, which I immediately snapped in half. Then I dropped the phone on the floor and stamped on it several times.

“You never know, they might track it,” I pointed out.

“See if he has any keys on him,” Will said hurriedly. Now we were pushing our luck. I hastily reached into his pocket and thankfully immediately recovered a key and remote. Experimentally, I pushed ‘unlock’.

A nearby Jeep chirped loudly, amplified by the echoey garage.

“Mags, you take the bug, and I’ll bring up the rear. Your car is nearly out of gas, so just go until you run out. You two are with me,” he motioned to Clark and me.

“Shotgun!” shouted Clark.

“Damn,” I muttered. Before we could move, we heard shouts coming from behind the door Clark had led Seth through, and they were getting louder.

Maggie slammed the trunk. “Time to go.”

*     *     *

“You think we lost them?” I said uneasily, scanning the barren wasteland behind us.

“It looks like it,” Will replied. “We were lucky the wind kicked up when it did. It seems to have covered our tracks completely.” Good thing too, since the bug was out of gas. I squinted as the aforementioned wind kicked up the sand around us.

“Right, let’s get on with this then,” Maggie said darkly. She had the same air of feral ruthlessness about her that had consumed her when she interrogated Charles. But this was going to be worse. Much worse.

She checked how many bullets were left in Charles’s revolver. Five. Five chances to inflict as much pain as she could. To return the favor. She emptied the bullets into her palm, and put them in her pocket. Presentation was important.

She opened the trunk, grabbed her still unconscious father by the legs, and dragged him out. He landed on the sand with a thud, and a grunt. Slowly he opened his eyes. A bad move on his part, if you ask me. Poor bastard. Maggie waited for his eyes to adjust to the bright light, and for him to see her. She then slowly, dramatically, pulled a bullet from her pocket, and inserted it into its chamber. Then the second. Then the third. The forth. Fifth. For his part, Seth just tried (and failed) to look calm.

“It’s sad,” Maggie thought, “Bullets are born in factories every day. None of them are unique. No-one is special. They’re just packed into boxes and shipped out. In that box, they’re together. They’re like a family. There are brothers and sisters. Maybe a mother and a father. Then they’re separated. Torn apart from the ones they love,” she raised the magnum up, “Then they serve their one purpose in life.” She pulled the trigger.

The shot rang out, and the wind drowned it quickly, but it lingered in Maggie’s ears. It would echo for the rest of her life. Seth didn’t scream. He didn’t make a sound. The grotesque hole in his head may have been distracting him.

“And they’re gone forever,” she whispered.

 

Will used a screwdriver from the tool set in the bug’s trunk to pry off the license plate. Maggie tossed the magnum into the trunk and shut the door. Clark and I removed anything lying around that could lead back to us. We then used Will’s phone’s GPS to get back to civilization, where we took a train back to Connecticut.

*     *     *

Despite how wretched we all felt, and despite there clearly being something wrong with Maggie, again, we went back to normal life as best we could. I went back to finish my last year of high school, Will went back to work at his restaurant, Clark stopped pretending to be a skilled assassin, and Maggie did her best to distract herself with work at the office. Evenings were the worst, when we were all home, and had to face each other.

But one night, I decided enough was enough. We were eating Chinese food again (nobody had been up to cooking lately), and I blurted out, “Maggie, why did you kill him so quickly?”

Everyone froze. I felt like I had just given her the worst insult possible, but now that it was out there I wasn’t about to back down.

“Well, I…” she said said sullenly, “I guess I didn’t want to lower myself to his level.”

“That didn’t seem to bother you with Charles,” I countered, trying to probe further. Will and Clark were just glaring at me for bringing up this taboo subject, each with noodles hanging from their chins like long, greasy beards. I couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculous image. I quickly stifled it.

“Sorry, I’m not laughing at that,” I apologized profusely. Maggie looked at the two of them, and smiled broadly.

“Well, the truth is that when I stood over him, I knew he was a cold heartless bastard, who would undoubtedly come after me if I let him live. But… well, he was my dad. I just couldn’t bring myself to torture my own father. Call it mercy.” She smiled again. And in turn so did the rest of us.

“So I guess we’re over this period of lazy takeout nights,” Will said happily.

“Definitely,” Maggie agreed. “How about some delicious, homemade, chocolate chip cookies?” The three of us exchanged looks.

“Not on your life!” I said, and broke into laughter. Soon we were all laughing uproariously. Things were finally back to normal.

 

The End.

Ah, short fiction.

As part of my “Mystery!” class (a half year senior English course), I get to write a short mystery story. Yay! I was so pissed off, last term, when I took “Nightmares”, and there was no short horror story assignment. I suppose I could have written one anyway. Hell, if I love writing stories so much, I should write them regularly! But I just don’t seem to work that way. I guess I’ll have to work on that. Oh well.

As for the plot, I have a few ideas, but I’ve really taken a liking to the idea of including G.A.P. members as characters. It’s an interesting challenge, because there are a few things I have to keep in mind. I have to help GAP readers figure out who I’m basing a character off of, since I use different names (obviously using the name “Fupas”, something with numbers/symbols, or something that isn’t pronounceable due to too many vowels/consonants, would be strange to a non-GAP member, and my teacher). Also, in trying to identify a character, the characteristics and habits I mention have to make sense to a non-GAPer. Basically, they shouldn’t think, “Why is he talking about this?”, and I can’t alienate that audience. And finally, I have to make these characters WORK in a solid mystery. As much as I love the jokes and fun times I have on the GAP, I can’t clog the story with comic relief. That hasn’t been too much of a problem so far though.

At this point, I’ve introduced the four main characters, and it’s past the introduction. I guess we’ll just see how it plays out. Even I’m not totally sure how yet.

Fu out.

I got into college!

I think I believe in God now. I got into my first choice: Drexel University. What’s hilarious to me is that that is the ONLY university I applied to! AND I applied to a major with very few spots, the Westphal College of Media Arts & Design. I’ll be in the Film & Video major. BOO-YAH!

I was putting off my college applications for a long time. It was a combination of nervousness and laziness (though I admit it was mostly the latter). So one day I found an email from Drexel in my junk folder. I think they found me through my PSAT scores. I thought, ‘Mum’s getting on my back about this lately (I remember she threatened to put a stop to something I enjoy doing if I didn’t start), so I might as well start here.’

It turned out to be what they call a “VIP Application”. I think it’s like one of those early action deals that a lot of colleges have, but instead of a three or four page essay, I only had to write a short personal statement. I think it was about 250 words. So I obviously got it done in little time and with little effort.

But afterwards, I thought, ‘Applying is the hard part, so I should now do the easy part.’ That of course being research. I went to their site, and my God! It looked amazing! As I mentioned before, I have great interest ― at the risk of sounding cliché, a passion ― for filmmaking, and this place has fantastic facilities.

After that all other applications were put on hold, as I immersed myself in anything Drexel. Then in early January, my Mum took me to visit the campus. The campus is in downtown Philadelphia. I had never been to Philadelphia before, so I was a little nervous. See, I have a problem with big cities, and Philly apparently is the second largest in the northeast United States. I’m sure everyone knows which city tops it. Yep, New York City. And I HATE New York City. I think the only things I like about it are Broadway and the food.

But when I got to Philly, I discovered that I don’t hate big cities. I hate big city crowds. NYC is one big mob most of the time. Philly is… well, peaceful. The traffic is thick, but usually moving smoothly. And the sidewalks are so clear, you can actually see the pavement under your feet! I mean, I live in Connecticut, and New Haven is much worse than this. Plus, back at the hotel room, my Mum got a newspaper, and she was just laughing at the crime reports. Most of them were simply students caught passed out in public from all the booze they had in them. New Haven? Muggings and knife attacks almost every day, some even in broad daylight! By the way, no, I don’t live in New Haven. But my Dad does, and I visit him every other weekend. Thanks to him, I know exactly where not to go.

But anyway, today I got a large envelope from Drexel. And hoo-bloody-ray, I’m done with the application process! I managed to get into college with almost no work, and only one application!

Okay, I guess that’s it. Just wanted to share that with as many people as I can.

Fu out.

An interesting dream I had

So it seems that lately my dreams are either about movies or video games. Except for last night. Last night was a little fucked up. Yes, a disturbing nightmare, that made me not want to fall back asleep until I could see the sunlight in my room. Seriously, so many people died, in such horrible ways.

But luckily, that’s not the dream I want to discuss today. No, the dream I’m thinking of was a few days ago, and quite fun. So, I think it started out based on the story, Gulliver’s Travels. It was the part when he is in the land where every person is the size of a flea compared to him. Then, it moved onto the more interesting part. I saw some kind of video game, of what genre I’m not sure. Anyway, it takes place on Earth. I think it’s present day. But what makes it interesting is that the countries are not fighting each other. No, quite the opposite. They are secretly allied, against a common enemy: the Giants. Yes, major league football has become the sport of the devil!

Nah, just kidding. I’m talking about the kind of Giants that stand tall enough to swat 747’s out of their faces. That is, if they let humans fly planes anymore.  I say this because Giants have become dictators of the planet. To be  specific, three Giants have. Three brothers if you’d like. Yeah, I know, dictator usually implies one sole ruler. But in this case, Earth has been divided up into three kingdoms. One brother rules The Americas (North, Central and South), another rules Europe and Africa, and the last one rules Asia, Australia and everything in between. And they might sometimes visit each other to check that everyone is under control.

The goal is to somehow dethrone the Giants. This would inevitably mean killing them. I haven’t figured out how any society would manage to kill something that can wipe out an entire army with its foot. I guess that’s where strategy would come into play. A full-powered frontal assault would obviously fail, so stealth and subtlety would be necessary. By day, under the watchful eye of the local ruler, mankind’s mission is to please the overlord. But under the cover of darkness, the agenda changes to revolution. I think nuclear weapons would be a bit boring and unoriginal, but again, it was a dream, so some details are fuzzy.

Also, from way up there, visual details can be difficult for the Giants to distinguish. Perhaps the player could find hiding places, where they may make plans unnoticed by the Giants. One idea that I liked is if you must do something in broad daylight, you can distract the Giant. Maybe you need to transport your secret weapon to a safer location, because the Giant is growing suspicious of the goings-on in that abandoned shack or cave. So you throw a bright and gaudy festival to honor his majesty, which lasts all day. While that holds his attention (Giants are easily amused), you move the device to the next safe-house.

And of course, once you have assured him of your loyalty and gained his trust, he’ll go out to check on his brothers. When he returns: KABLOOIE!!! You’d have to make sure you catch him alone, and don’t alert either of his brothers when you kill him, because whatever weapon you create and discharge, it will take all of your kingdom’s resources, and it will leave you defenseless against another Giant, unless he doesn’t come for a long time. And if you don’t kill your own Giant in one shot… well, I hope you saved your game, and it was nice knowing you.

And then of course it’s just a matter of helping to liberate the next kingdom, perhaps by shipping your weapon and remaining resources, along with a few of the engineers, to hide out somewhere in the kingdom. The borders won’t be watched anymore, and the receiving empire will just put on a parade on the other side of the kingdom. Thus, you can infiltrate the kingdom, and help double the resistance. Then, when that Giant is pushing up daisies, you move on to the last one, and the three nations unite to rid themselves of the giants forever!

I suppose this would be a very short game, since the mission is pretty straightforward. The story would probably be pretty weak too, though maybe not. Still, I just wanted to write that down. Thanks for humoring me if you actually read this.

Voila!

I wish this could have a much better resolution, and lighting (though in the film the low lighting is what made it better), but it doesn’t. This picture isn’t supposed to showcase my great skill in PhotoShop, because I don’t have any. This is simply one of my favorite shots, and lines in the entire film, and this is my way of saying so, aside from just saying it.

 

For the vigilant and the virtuous.

Thank you, and goodnight.