I really, really hate reality shows. They are so not real. A true reality show would be to set people up and not let them know they are being filmed. No little confessional booths or anything. Just a bunch of idiots put in a weird situation and left to their own devices.
This short story is my idea of how some dumb 18 year old kids would deal with something way beyond the norm. Like Generation Kill. Only not as good.
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Survivor: Monstorum Island
Day 1
The studio people dropped us off on this supposed “Monster Island”. What a stupid name. They have some wicked big lobsters we’re catching off shore but I wouldn’t call them monsters. We started setting up camp along the beach to make use of the ocean for food and stuff and a little ways away, a small river comes out of the jungle and drops into the bay. So we have an easy to get water too. This seems really cool. Nothing like the other seasons of the show I’ve seen. Yo. Some of that shit looked difficult as hell!
You know what else is weird? There are no camera people with us. They just set up a bunch of cameras around an shit and they just left in the helicopter back to the boat. Hey I just realized. There’s no host here either dude. No one to give us stupid challenges or make us eat weird shit or nothing.
This is definitely paradise!
Day 2
A beautiful day! The sky is blue, the breeze through the island is sweet and you would not believe the chicks they put on the show! Wow dog! Everyone so far seems to get along. This is tight!
My only problem is the jungle is a little loud at night. Must be some boars or something out there making all the grumbling I heard. I wish they’d just shut up or maybe we can kill them and eat them or something.
Today we are going to go base jumping and do some swimming in the bay. Did I mention how hot the girls are?
Day 3
Oh my god! WTF!!! I just I saw a giant turtle come out of the ocean and eat our food. It must have been a hundred feet long! I am not fuckin around! It was huge! This is nuts dog! I didn’t know turtles could get that big! Janie says they can grow pretty big. Something about they never stop growing and they can live to be like two hundred years old. I guess I believe her. She said she saw a show on the Discovery Channel about it, she’s the expert. Course it doesn’t hurt that she is smoking hot too!
By the way, our new camp in the jungle is great! No one feels good sleeping on the beach tonight with the giant turtle. That was crazy.
Anyway, I think at the bonfire we make tonight I will cut back on how much I drink. You know, just in case.
Day 4
We can’t find Janie. Or Derek and Joey. This ain’t cool. I hope they aren’t passed out in the jungle after having a threeway or something. Just my luck bro. The chick I’m workin on is into some other dude. Or dudes. Whatever man.
Well, we were going to see if we could catch some more fish today but all our nets and stuff are either broken or missing. This is bullshit. I wish drunk mother fuckers knew how to act in a social type situation. They make us all look bad.
Man, Kyle is such a klutz! I went to check on him this morning and all I found in his tent was some broken glass from a bottle and a bunch of blood. He musta got drunk last night and cut his hand on his bottle and wandered out looking for a bandage. What an pussy!
Oh yeah! I got woken up last night because a tree fell in the jungle. I guess if it falls and no one is there to hear it, it still makes noise cuz I heard it man! Deb and Brittney went to go check it out. It must have been awesome cuz they ain’t back yet. I was gonna go but I think I drank too much and my head is spinning dog!
Day 5
Dude! We found Deb and Brittney. I think they’re dead! Their heads were off and everything. And Amber said she saw Kyle laying out in the jungle. Well, not Kyle but his arm. She said it was definitely him cuz he was wearing the friendship bracelet she gave him after he went down on her after dinner the other day. This is whack yo.
We all heard a loud roar from the jungle too. It was like a lion or something. This is messed up son! Get me the hell out of here!
Day 6
Whatever that thing was in the jungle yesterday, came out last night and stomped through our camp. Zoey and Amber got stepped on, that was gross yo! And I think it only ate half of Miguel cuz there were parts of him EVERYWHERE when I woke up this morning. That giant lizard fucker tore this place up dog! It probably would have got me too bro if that badass gorilla hadn’t come out of the trees and tackled it. They rolled around and that big ass gorilla started ground’n and pound’n his lizard ass!
The rest of the guys took off when they saw that shit but it was kinda cool so I stuck around and watched it. Thatt monkey mother fucker started choking that lizard dude and his eyes were buggin out! It was tight yo. Then I heard everybody scream from the jungle and I saw some trees fallin down around them. Whatever was in there, I was glad I was out here watchin that brawl for damn sure.
Day 7
I think I learned alot about myself on this show. I learned that life is too fuckin short and if there’s a chick you’re into, you should bust a move before you lose her. Either to some other dude or a giant monster or some shit.
I think I’m the only one left since no one came out of the jungle last night or today. So I’m gonna try and find that turtle and see if I can get a ride out to the boat. Later dudes. PEACE!
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Dastard and the Shakedown
I don't know where this goes. Just something really funny about it to me. A dick-ish superhero that no one knows is a dick.
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Praetorian Aegis grabbed Dastard by the shirt at his neck and brought him in close.
“How much money you got on you?” he whispered.
“Wh-what?” Dastard choked out.
“C’mon ya dick, fork it over,” the hero said more emphatically. “There’s not much time.”
“Wh-what?” repeated Dastard, completely taken aback.
Then there was the pounding of feet up the castle steps. Praetorian pulled Dastard’s wallet out and just as Captain Wow and the rest came into view, he punched Dastard in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Before he could catch his breath Aegis hit him again, this time across the jaw, snapping his head to the side and crossing his eyes.
“I got him, don’t worry. Another evil-doer brought to justice,” he said as Dastard felt himself slip into an inky haze.
“Damn you.. Praetorian…..” he gurgled and passed out.
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Praetorian Aegis grabbed Dastard by the shirt at his neck and brought him in close.
“How much money you got on you?” he whispered.
“Wh-what?” Dastard choked out.
“C’mon ya dick, fork it over,” the hero said more emphatically. “There’s not much time.”
“Wh-what?” repeated Dastard, completely taken aback.
Then there was the pounding of feet up the castle steps. Praetorian pulled Dastard’s wallet out and just as Captain Wow and the rest came into view, he punched Dastard in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Before he could catch his breath Aegis hit him again, this time across the jaw, snapping his head to the side and crossing his eyes.
“I got him, don’t worry. Another evil-doer brought to justice,” he said as Dastard felt himself slip into an inky haze.
“Damn you.. Praetorian…..” he gurgled and passed out.
Dastard and the Briefcase
I have very little knowledge of the way quotation marks work in a sentence. I always pick up a book I am reading and rifle through it to find how it's done and if I can't find an example I make it up. By now I should give up and just assume that a copy editor will one day fix it all but I am way too anal to just let it go.
Dastard's character is a reflection of being able to do what I or the reader would want to do in a given circumstance but can't because we have social decorum to worry about. I am not saying we all want to be murderers or thieves, but when a waiter, for example, says or does something you don't like and you want to just slug him, you hold back. Dastard won't. He might be looked at as a sociopath, my brother's favorite subject, but I kinda think of him as a pragmatist. Sort of like a John Wayne character who won't take no guff. You say the wrong thing or look at him wrong and pow! Of course he is a villain and he will end up taking plenty of guff in his problematic career, but you get the gist.
Like all my stories of Dastard, I don't really know where they tie in or fit in his continuity, I just thought of a funny sketch-like bit and fleshed it out. One day I will actually plot out the whole story and it will hopefully, make sense to the reader.
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The three thugs piled into the car; at least one of them grunting as if just walking there and getting in was enough physical exertion for the day.
“So you guys dropped off the briefcase and took the one with the money? Everything went ok?” Dastard asked while smoothing his cape out over his knees with his gloves as he often did when he was anxious.
“Yeah Boss,” the skinny one named Maury or Maurice said.
“Good because we don’t want to be anywhere near the…” started Dastard before being cut off by the big heavy set thug named Apples. “Uh, Boss… I’m not sure what briefcase I grabbed.”
“What? “ he stammered “There’s a bo..” cut off again, this time by the “brains” of the group Danny Figs. “Don’t worry Boss, I took care of it. I switched the cases for him.” Figs looked pleased with himself. Not a normal sight around these guys.
“Gah! Really? That’s good. “ Dastard looked at his watch. “I was gonna say there isn’t a lot of, what, ten seconds ‘til that briefcase explo..”
“Uh…Boss… I hear ticking coming from our case of money,” Apples said quietly.
“I was gonna say I switched it boss. I knew dese guys might mess it up,” Maury or Maurice said.
“Sonofa…” was all Dastard could get out before the case exploded and with a shriek of metal the car pitched up in the air, crashing back down with flames bellowing out all the windows.
Dastard sat there, his car a smoking ruin, small burning bits of metal, plastic and bloody parts strewn around it.
Dastard pulled himself wearily out of the wreck as a couple kids about seven years old rode by on their bikes. One of them threw something at him; most likely a small rock or some used chewing gum while the others laughed.
Dastard shook his head and sighed. Standing up slowly, he then kicked the brat off his bike. The chewing gum which was stuck briefly to his boot then became pasted to the boy’s t-shirt. He then mounted the bike and awkwardly rode away making for his hideout, the sounds of a crying child drowned out by the squealing of one of the bike’s wheels.
Dastard's character is a reflection of being able to do what I or the reader would want to do in a given circumstance but can't because we have social decorum to worry about. I am not saying we all want to be murderers or thieves, but when a waiter, for example, says or does something you don't like and you want to just slug him, you hold back. Dastard won't. He might be looked at as a sociopath, my brother's favorite subject, but I kinda think of him as a pragmatist. Sort of like a John Wayne character who won't take no guff. You say the wrong thing or look at him wrong and pow! Of course he is a villain and he will end up taking plenty of guff in his problematic career, but you get the gist.
Like all my stories of Dastard, I don't really know where they tie in or fit in his continuity, I just thought of a funny sketch-like bit and fleshed it out. One day I will actually plot out the whole story and it will hopefully, make sense to the reader.
-------------------------------------------------------------
The three thugs piled into the car; at least one of them grunting as if just walking there and getting in was enough physical exertion for the day.
“So you guys dropped off the briefcase and took the one with the money? Everything went ok?” Dastard asked while smoothing his cape out over his knees with his gloves as he often did when he was anxious.
“Yeah Boss,” the skinny one named Maury or Maurice said.
“Good because we don’t want to be anywhere near the…” started Dastard before being cut off by the big heavy set thug named Apples. “Uh, Boss… I’m not sure what briefcase I grabbed.”
“What? “ he stammered “There’s a bo..” cut off again, this time by the “brains” of the group Danny Figs. “Don’t worry Boss, I took care of it. I switched the cases for him.” Figs looked pleased with himself. Not a normal sight around these guys.
“Gah! Really? That’s good. “ Dastard looked at his watch. “I was gonna say there isn’t a lot of, what, ten seconds ‘til that briefcase explo..”
“Uh…Boss… I hear ticking coming from our case of money,” Apples said quietly.
“I was gonna say I switched it boss. I knew dese guys might mess it up,” Maury or Maurice said.
“Sonofa…” was all Dastard could get out before the case exploded and with a shriek of metal the car pitched up in the air, crashing back down with flames bellowing out all the windows.
Dastard sat there, his car a smoking ruin, small burning bits of metal, plastic and bloody parts strewn around it.
Dastard pulled himself wearily out of the wreck as a couple kids about seven years old rode by on their bikes. One of them threw something at him; most likely a small rock or some used chewing gum while the others laughed.
Dastard shook his head and sighed. Standing up slowly, he then kicked the brat off his bike. The chewing gum which was stuck briefly to his boot then became pasted to the boy’s t-shirt. He then mounted the bike and awkwardly rode away making for his hideout, the sounds of a crying child drowned out by the squealing of one of the bike’s wheels.
Dastard and the Jewelry Store
This is the story I am working on about a villain who is trying to work his way up to true supervillainy all the while dealing with bumbling and inept underlings, arrogant interupting minor league superheroes and his own ineptness and despicable plans gone awry.
I kind of wanted it to be told from the point of view of the character but I thought it would change the story too much. I mean if he fails, he would just lie and tell you it went swimingly. Another option is to have it told in the 3rd person, and interlace it with interviews with the character to get his point of view without it affecting the overall story. I was gonna have it told as if a person were watching the events, (maybe the interviewer) and reporting it along with the interviews but I don't think Dastard would condone someone following him around reporting his mistakes.
Anyway, more on our hero, I mean villain later. This is a bit of the story where he is in the process of robbing a jewelry store or something and how it goes wrong.
Let me know what you think.
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Dastard clicked his heels together and activated the propulsion units in his boots. The jets making him levitate a mere eight inches off the ground, he tried to steady himself so he wouldn’t look foolish in front of the store patrons. After a couple seconds he felt confident enough to speak.
“Yes, it is I, the diabolical Dastard! Here to relieve you of your excessive wealth” he exclaimed regally, hoisting the canvas bag up for them all to see. “Just put your valuables in the bag and no one will get hurt.”
He shifted his weight carefully positioning the jets so that he could maneuver forward slightly. Before he got to the first unnerved person his boots let out a spark and slightly surged. Looking around and down nervously he spoke his next words carefully, trying to sound evil. “Nice and slow. No one. Will. Get hurt,” he said then thought to himself, least of all me.
He drifted toward his first victim and attempting to glide past him so as to make it around the room without crashing into anyone, he made a slight adjustment to his flight path.
“Take it easy,” he said obviously more to himself than his prey.
Then there was a loud pop and a snap and the boot jets launched madly, taking him with them. He let out a yelp that he thought no one heard which then directly became a child-like scream which no doubt, was heard by every superhero within ten miles. The jets could not be controlled even if Dastard was able to hold back his terror and find a way to make them. He zipped up, corkscrewing and flailing, his cape whipped up to cover his mask, one would almost say thankfully as he careened off a pillar and spiraled up and around about the cathedral ceiling.
The onlookers once too scared to move now held their positions not out of fear but bewilderment. One person fought his way past the moment to hold up his phone and click off a picture. Before any serious harm could befall Dastard, the boots sputtered and gave out in midair. The villain dropped immediately, bellyflopping solidly onto a marble counter belaying that bit about serious harm.
The crowd still mesmerized, leaned forward waiting to see what would happen next as if they paid good money to see a show and demanded results. Dastard slowly lifted an arm and dragged his cape off of his head. Groaning, he tried to lift himself up with a pushup but his arms, all rubbery-like, gave out and he collapsed back down. The result of which was he instantly threw up, vomit shooting out of the slits in his mask. A few people in the crowd gasped, a couple people squealed, one laughed and they all scattered. Chaos reigned as they ran out of the shop, pushing each other out of their way, not so much from the botched robbery but from the hideous mess that fell off the marble counter and dripped split pea soup-like onto the polished floor.
“Thank you everyone. Remember to tell all about the dark power of Dastard,” he mumbled and then promptly and mercifully, lost consciousness.
I kind of wanted it to be told from the point of view of the character but I thought it would change the story too much. I mean if he fails, he would just lie and tell you it went swimingly. Another option is to have it told in the 3rd person, and interlace it with interviews with the character to get his point of view without it affecting the overall story. I was gonna have it told as if a person were watching the events, (maybe the interviewer) and reporting it along with the interviews but I don't think Dastard would condone someone following him around reporting his mistakes.
Anyway, more on our hero, I mean villain later. This is a bit of the story where he is in the process of robbing a jewelry store or something and how it goes wrong.
Let me know what you think.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dastard clicked his heels together and activated the propulsion units in his boots. The jets making him levitate a mere eight inches off the ground, he tried to steady himself so he wouldn’t look foolish in front of the store patrons. After a couple seconds he felt confident enough to speak.
“Yes, it is I, the diabolical Dastard! Here to relieve you of your excessive wealth” he exclaimed regally, hoisting the canvas bag up for them all to see. “Just put your valuables in the bag and no one will get hurt.”
He shifted his weight carefully positioning the jets so that he could maneuver forward slightly. Before he got to the first unnerved person his boots let out a spark and slightly surged. Looking around and down nervously he spoke his next words carefully, trying to sound evil. “Nice and slow. No one. Will. Get hurt,” he said then thought to himself, least of all me.
He drifted toward his first victim and attempting to glide past him so as to make it around the room without crashing into anyone, he made a slight adjustment to his flight path.
“Take it easy,” he said obviously more to himself than his prey.
Then there was a loud pop and a snap and the boot jets launched madly, taking him with them. He let out a yelp that he thought no one heard which then directly became a child-like scream which no doubt, was heard by every superhero within ten miles. The jets could not be controlled even if Dastard was able to hold back his terror and find a way to make them. He zipped up, corkscrewing and flailing, his cape whipped up to cover his mask, one would almost say thankfully as he careened off a pillar and spiraled up and around about the cathedral ceiling.
The onlookers once too scared to move now held their positions not out of fear but bewilderment. One person fought his way past the moment to hold up his phone and click off a picture. Before any serious harm could befall Dastard, the boots sputtered and gave out in midair. The villain dropped immediately, bellyflopping solidly onto a marble counter belaying that bit about serious harm.
The crowd still mesmerized, leaned forward waiting to see what would happen next as if they paid good money to see a show and demanded results. Dastard slowly lifted an arm and dragged his cape off of his head. Groaning, he tried to lift himself up with a pushup but his arms, all rubbery-like, gave out and he collapsed back down. The result of which was he instantly threw up, vomit shooting out of the slits in his mask. A few people in the crowd gasped, a couple people squealed, one laughed and they all scattered. Chaos reigned as they ran out of the shop, pushing each other out of their way, not so much from the botched robbery but from the hideous mess that fell off the marble counter and dripped split pea soup-like onto the polished floor.
“Thank you everyone. Remember to tell all about the dark power of Dastard,” he mumbled and then promptly and mercifully, lost consciousness.
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