Two Penny Saga: Rhonda's Tattoo

Thank you Heather for suggesting this opening.  I went with it and this is the story I got. 

 

I left them dripping and sunning themselves on the rocks as I went to retrieve my clothes.

I’d planned the trip so it would just be Rhonda and me, but she had to go and invite Jessica, Patrick, Steve and Brandon along as well.  After hearing everyone else go on about Lacrosse all day I was ready to go home.  I dried myself off and was about to go into the woods to exchange my swim trunks for my jeans when I realized that there was something in my pant’s pocket. 

I reached in and pulled out a necklace with a black pendant in the shape of a slender fang.  “Hey!”  I shouted.  “Check this out!” 

To my relief everyone ignored me except for Rhonda who got up and walked over to me in her flower bikini that made it really hard to be “just friends.”  My only problem with the sight was that she had gotten the name of her sorority tattooed on her shoulder.  All her sisters were going to get one but the rest of them had chickened out.

I handed her the necklace.  “Check it out.”

“What the hell is that Charlie?  Did you buy this for me?”

“No!  I found it right here in my pants pockets.  It was just-.”

Leaves rustled behind us.  I turned around and looked up into the woods.  A woman stood just outside the trees.  She was probably just a couple years older than us but was rail thin and her saggy skin was maggoty pale.  She wore a tattered gray dress that looked like was about to fall off her. 

“Hello?”  I shouted.

The woman quivered and looked like she was trying to shout something but no sound came out. 

“Who are you talking to?”  Rhonda asked.

“That creepy lady up there!”

“What creepy lady?”  As if she wasn’t aware of what she was doing, Ronda untied the necklace and brought it up around her neck.

The girl flailed her arms and looked like she was trying to scream. 

“Wait!”  I turned to Rhonda.  “I don’t think you should-.”

She fastened the necklace.  There was a bang like a door slamming.  Rhonda and everyone else turned and looked up at the woods.  I looked back, expecting the woman to be gone but she was still there.  Her arms drooped and she had a look of horrified dismay on her face.  She stepped forward into the sunlight and I got a clear look at her neck for the first time.  It was covered in burns like someone had clamped a necklace of red hot metal around her. 

“Hey!”  Rhonda shouted.  “Whose that?”

The woman pulled down the front of her dress.  Tattooed into her left shoulder was the name of Rhonda’s sorority. 

Why Silent Films Need to Come Back NOW!

Cinema has existed for well over a century.  During that time we have made some pretty impressive advances.  However, it is almost universally accepted that progress does not mean that we should reject some of cinema's older forms. 

For example, we have had color since The Wizard of Oz and Gone With the Wind.  Most films today are fine in color but there are some movies such as Schindler's List, The Man Who Wasn't There, Manhattan and Ed Wood that choose to be black white either for artistic reasons, homages to older films or just because they look better that way.  Just because we have color film doesn't mean that it should always be used.

The same is true with dialogue.  It is time that silent films come back to modern cinemas.

There are countless ridiculously wonderful silent movies out there that many people will miss just because they've never seen a silent film before and assume they wouldn't like it. 

 (Watch this if you want to know

where Tim Burtin Came from.)

And in 2012 there was this:

It was the first silent film to win best picture since Wings (1927).  It currently holds a 98% Freshness rating on Rotten Tomatoes and it made over $44 million domestic.  That isn't all that much money in the big scheme of things but it does show that there are people out there willing to watch movies without audible dialogue.  

However, The Artist is not the movie to convince me that silent films need to make a comeback.  No, that honor goes to this little gem:

And the really sick part is I'M NOT JOKING!  I know you're reading this thinking, "Silly Mike is just making fun of Hollywood's bad dialogue" but I legitimately believe that Transformers 3: The Dark of the Moon would have been a better movie if it had been silent.  There is no way the director, producers, studio or most of the audience would have gone through with it but I still stand strong that it would have been a better movie. 






Reason 1:  Michael Bay is not Quentin Tarantino.  The dialogue in this film did not add to the quality of the story.  In fact it did nothing but detract.  Taking out all the movie's dialogue would have removed the movie's biggest flaw.  There was nothing clever, exciting or witty about what the characters had to say.

(Unless you think that racist robots are witty)

Reason 2:  No one went to this movie for the dialogue.  We went to see giant robots bash each other into pulp and destroy a downtown metropolis.  This is something that crosses all language barriers.  Let's be honest, Transformers 3 would have barely needed dialogue cards. 



Reason 3:  Dialogue is really not as important in movies as most modern filmgoers believe. Transformers 3's plot is pretty straight forward.  There have been MUCH better movies with considerably more subtle, complex emotions/relationships and significantly less dialogue.

(Don't believe me?  You've obviously never seen

this movie.)

Reason 4:  People adore characters who let you know exactly what they're thinking without them actually saying, "Hey bro!  This is what I'm thinking!"  Some of cinema's most lovable characters have never said a word.  For example:  which of the following characters would you rather go out drinking with?

 

I rest my case. 

Okay, I'm not stupid.  Unless we slip into Wackyland we aren't going to be getting any mega budget silent films ever again.  That's just one example of how Hollywood is biting itself in the ass.  Dialogue is almost always a mess in big budget film.  I'm not saying that every movie should be silent.  I'm just saying that a lot would benefit from the change.    If audiences and film makers were just a little more open minded the Transformers franchise might not have been that unwatchable.

Give your Rebels Something to Fight For

When Kimmy and I were in Hawaii, we jumped into a swimming hole where a scene from Pirates of the Caribbean 4: On Stranger Tides was filmed.  We also took two boat trips around the coast and saw several beaches that were featured in the movie.  After a while we finally said, “33% on Rotten Tomatoes be damned!  Let’s just Netflix it.” 

 

We watched it last night and while it was fun to see Johnny Depp prance around in places we had actually been, what I really got out of the film was that I finally realized why the Pirates movies never really worked for me.  More importantly I realized what makes other popular stories work so well.  

Okay, there are a lot of reason why Pirates isn’t the best franchise.  The characters tend to act without motivation.  The scripts appear to have been written over a weekend.  The laws of physics are more realistic in How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

But that can be said about any Hollywood blockbuster. 

No, I think what has always rubbed me the wrong way about Pirates is that none of the characters like each other.  Just about every other franchise has a cast of characters who have each other’s backs. 

(Seriously, half the people who wish they had gone to Hogwarts don't care about learning magic.  They just wish they had friends as loyal as Ron and Hermione in Middle School.)

(Even piece of crap franchises have a cast of heroes who like each other)

Most of the characters in The Pirates of the Caribbean movies are all too eager to switch sides and stab each other in the back.   With the exception of Kiera Knightly and Orlando Bloom, none of the characters have any loyalties to each other.  Jack sparrow is captured by one side and goes along with them.  He breaks free and gets captured by another side.  Then he gets captured by the first side and then a third side.  Each time he follows along with the group, seems to kind of be interested in what they are doing and then wonders off somewhere else.  All he does is react, he has no clear goal or motivation. 

Now, I acknowledge that one argument might be that this movies is about pirates.  Stabbing each other in the back went with the territory.  Maybe the movie makers were just trying to be realistic.  I can pretty much assure you though that realism was NOT something anyone involved in the production was interested in.    

Okay, so granted, rebellious, complex characters are fantastic.  

But most of the movies/books/TV shows where these characters work the best are more intelligent than any of the Pirates movies (at least the sequels).  Also, in most of these stories, there comes a time when the rebellious hero does take a stand for something or find others he or she can bond with.  They might still be a rebel but we like them more because they have found something they are willing to die for.
  
 So what did I take away from the fourth Pirates?  Basically, give your heroes at least a couple characters they can rely on (for example, the buddy or mentor archetypes).  At least give them something they will eventually stand for.  Rebellious characters are more interesting than lame goody goodies but they become even more complex when they join the other rebels.  That's why Han Solo will always be cooler than Jack Sparrow.   

Two Penny Saga: Crashing into Reality

Thank you to Geoff for suggesting this opening.  I went with it and this is the story I got. (I might have to revisit this town in future stories.)

Jacky always sang to her plants in the morning while getting ready for work. She felt it was a soothing way to start her day. But then one morning John fell through the ceiling and she knew she would have to stop.

“Not again!”  Jacky moaned at the man crushing half the tulips in her tiny greenhouse.  She dropped the watering can and walked into the kitchen.  “I suppose you will be wanting breakfast.”

“What happened?”  The man sat up and rolled off the pots.  “What am I?”

“You’re a song.”  Jacky returned with a cup of tea.  “This used to happen all the time I’d be singing a song or telling a story and then it would become a person and fall from the sky.”

“I’m a song?”

“Half the people in this town are songs or stories.  My next door neighbor is a little song I sang about the ducks in the pond.  The mayor is this tale I’d tell the other kids about a big harry man who lived in the back of my closet.”

“What am I about?”

“Snails.”

“Snails?”

“I was singing a song to my flowers about snails and down you came.”  She thrust the broom into John’s hands. “Welcome to the world, John.  You can start off your life by sweeping up this mess.”

Two Penny Saga: Cookies vs. Vegetables

Thank you Kate for this opening line. 

She crunched away at the delicious treats she found at the most unexpected location and she wondered if she would always be so lucky to be this close to a real live cookie monster.

Sesame Street had gotten it wrong.  A cookie monster wasn’t a monster that ate cookies; it was a monster of cookies. 

Aileen had found the creature in the cave behind her house.  She didn’t know how long it had been there.  It looked like a giant bulldog with a body made out of chocolate chip cookies, two enormous peanut butter swirl eyes, and Oreo horns.  It even pooped oatmeal raisin cookies. 

At first the cookie monster growled at her, but Aileen won its trust by feeding it raw eggs, flour, sugar and a little bit of salt.  Before long, the monster let her scratch its doughy belly and pick loose cookies off its skin. 

Everything changed the day she saw all the popular girls playing with the vegetable unicorn.  It had long, slender legs made out of celery, a mane of lettuce and a carrot stick horn.  She galloped around the field letting the girls ride on her back.

Aileen ran to the field to join the clique.  She was almost there when she heard a pitiful whimper.  The cookie monster was standing outside his cave staring at her. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow!” Aileen called. 

The other girls let her join them and to Aileen’s astonishment she was soon a part of their clique.  A week passed before she thought to check on the cookie monster.  When she returned, the cave was empty.  The cookie monster had run off, perhaps to find another little girl.

Two Penny Saga: And In the Darkness the Kittens Wait

Thank you Chris for giving me the opening line so I could turn it into a story.

  

The Quantam Chaos Expansion Guide, Fourth Edition, had warned Conrad the black holes, rapid time fissures, cranial teleportation singularities, sonic bone disintegrating waves, but never about the kittens.

“NOW!” Conrad shouted.  I pulled the lever.  There was a flash of ice blue light and the gateway opened.   

I ran across the laboratory and joined Conrad on the threshold.  With bated breath we peered down the tunnel of cruel light into the abyss beyond our universe. 

“We have failed,” I groaned.  “There is nothing out there.”

I turned to push the lever and close the door when Conrad grabbed my hand.  “There is something out there!” 

A figure slunk through the darkness beyond our world.

“Hello?”  Conrad shouted.  “Who’s there?  Pray tell, what are you?”

Into the tunnel of light stepped a tiny orange kitten.  It’s mouth opened but the voice issued from the void beyond.  “I have existed since before what you perceive as reality came to pass.  I am a being that exists beyond the walls of your fragile sanity.  To me you and maggots are one and the same.  Bow down and pray to me for a quick death for I am Kitty.” 

“It’s so cute!”  Conrad squealed and stepped forward.  

The kitten rolled over onto its back, exposing its belly.  Conrad knelt to give it a tummy rub, and I will forever curse myself for not stopping him. 

The second Conrad’s fingers brushed the white, feathery fur he released a scream of pain and horror like all the gates of hell had been open wide.  He was hauled up as if by some invisible force and thrown back into our laboratory. 

The kitten rose and stepped toward me.  I pushed all of my weight upon the lever, closing that doorway to damnation.  I pray it will stay closed forever.

I ran to my colleague’s side.  His skin was the color of the dead.  The poor man’s mouth was open as if producing a scream too horrible for ears.  He finally managed to look at me and gasp, “It’s eyes!  I saw its eyes!  There are only kittens!  There is nothing but kittens.”   

Those were the last words my poor colleague ever muttered.  For the past seven years he has been confined to Stonegate Asylumn in northern Main where he silently haunts a lonely cell. 

I have since then moved on to other studies but have read of others following in Conrad’s footsteps.  It is to these individuals that I implore, no beg.  Those footsteps you are following are the footsteps of the damned.  Do not seek the places beyond our universe.  Remain content with your ignorance.  The places beyond our fragile reality only contain darkness.  And In the darkness the kitten waits. 

Two Penny Saga: And By The Fury Of My Pillow My Enemies Shall Meet Their Doom

Thank you Karen for suggesting the following line.  I took it and turned it into the following story.

 

 When I make a pillow, I do it right.

I am not like others of my generation who just throws cloth and stuffing together and hopes for the best.  I spend months on it.  It has to be just the right wait.  I spend days on the corner that I will be wielding when I go into battle.  I pour over my family’s insignia (a red boar on a green field) so when my enemy’s skull meets my pillow they know that it was one of the Redhorn Clan that struck them down.

There aren’t many of us left.  The last one I met was over six months ago at the start of September.  I remember this because I was at the mall with my wife and two daughters shopping for their back to school supplies when I saw him in the food court.  He was an oak of a man with more hair on his face than a bear has on its body.  Slung over his shoulder was a black pillow with a golden eagle sewn into the fabric.  He was one of the Nightcroft Clan. 

My wife begged me to leave him be.  My daughters whined about how some boys they knew at school were watching.  If paid them no mind.  I approached the devil and said the words my father taught me when I was a lad.  “I meet you as a man of the Redhorn.  Prepare to taste my feathers.”

My pillow swung at his head but he was faster than he looked.  His pillow deflected mine and smashed into my chest.  I was thrown back into a woman carrying a tray full of Arby’s.  I pushed he back and ran at my foe.    

Our battle raged through the mall for hours.  We left the food court, passed Macies and Sharper Image and fought all the way to California Pizza Kitchen.  I fought better than I ever had but the fates did not smile on me throughout the battle.  Whether it was a lack in my courage or skill I cannot say but the giant struck my pillow out of my hands so it plunged into the fountain by the Pretzil kiosk.  Snarling, my foe pressed his pillow to my throat.  “Kneel and lick the grime off my boots.”

I did not weep or give in.  I only raised my hands and said, “My mother fought in the tickling pits for twelve years.  She taught me everything she knew.”

I was upon him, tickling his belly, his chin and his armpits until he was reduced to a spluttering ball of giggles.  The exhaustion was finally too much and he gave in.  I stood over my enemy, victorious once again.