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  1. #81
    Senior Member Kenneth Almighty's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Victor View Post
    I post things I have written, every day. It's just that I post them on other threads.

    Yet somehow what is posted on this thread is privileged.

    But when you look at it, it is most odd.

    This thread is simply nostalgia for the old forms of literacy, where literacy has been subsumed into the electronic media. Look! I am not writing in print, I am writing in electronic text (etext).

    This thread is like Peguy's re-enactment of old military battles.

    This thread is like driving forward looking in the rear vision mirror of old, defunct, literary forms when the electronic media are rushing towards us through the windshield.

    This thread is for the meretricious.
    I'm starting to believe that all of your posts are for the exact same purpose. (now THAT'S borderline )

    In other news, the Devil and four blokes try to escape from my head:

    K boys, slaughter me. Not finished, obviously, but I'm proud of what I have so far.

    Devil's Workshop

    “Ignore the man behind the painting.”

    The scary thing was there was no man behind the painting.

    I took the direct approach. My fingers touched enamel.

    “WHAT-ARE-YOU? WHERE-ARE-YOU-FROM?”

    “Nebraska. Where do you think, shithead? I’m a Van Gogh. Sprecken sie francaise, little man?

    There was no foul mouthed man, or ancient spirit, behind the painting.
    Although it seemed to the group that at this point, any explanation was fair game. George, Lloyd, George and I all heard it speak, clear as day. This wouldn’t be so concerning if the painting didn’t happen to move when it talked.

    Oh, the naiveté of wishful thinking.

    The first thing that we all did was check Lloyd’s marijuana stash. It was as replenished as it was yesterday, so there was no chance of a second hand high. We then all proceeded to pinch ourselves. When that didn’t work we played Bloody Knuckles and a variation of my own invention, Bloody Femur, but no such luck (we weren’t that flexible).

    The painting (or perhaps The Painting, as the egotistical sonuvabitch seemed to constantly refer to itself as) was there, and it was talking, and there seemed to be no getting around that fact. Literally – it was hung, at the suggestion of George A, on a concrete wall in our parking lot, free of any possible influence of (most) radio signals and (most) ventriloquists that may or may not reside behind (most) cruel pranks. At the suggestion of George B, we ran one of his rare earth magnets over the painting, hoping to catch any embedded microphones or recording devices that could possibly be sewn on the inside; that was a no go. Lloyd suggested that we just smoke some more marijuana and enjoy it.
    This was getting nowhere.

    “Maybe it’s ESP.” I lauded.

    “Yeah, and maybe this is an alien psychological experiment to see how we deal with novel situations before abductions.”

    There was a silence a microsecond too long as we considered George A’s hypothesis. George B countered this statement.

    “No, Occam’s Razor would cancel that out. There has to be a perfectly reasonable explanation for there an otherwise normal painting to suddenly, spontaneously, and sardonically talk.”

    Another awkward microsecond.

    “OK, maybe not.”

    “Hey! Hey, douchebags! How about you ASK the damn thing! Ever thought of that, wise guys?”

    It was the painting again, striking in a bolt of common sense where there was none to be had. I decided to take the bait.

    “OK, but the last time I did that, I got a snarky remark.”

    “It would help if you didn’t treat me like a Ouiji board. Was your mom a Hare Krishna? Are you a cult baby? Would you like to talk about it? Let me pull over the couch.”

    Respect is a luxury of the sane.

    Lloyd interjected. “Saaay… wasn’t your mom a Hare Krishna for a while?”

    “Shut up.”

    It’s true that in terms of the paranormal or occult, take your pick, I wasn’t exactly unfamiliar. My mother wasn’t a member of the Hare Krishna, but she was the next best thing: a Mormon. However, my father was something a little… less tame than a Mormon. What is less tame than a Mormon?

    “No, dude, that’s his dad. He still holds those puppy sacrifices on the weekends.”

    That.

    “OK, OK, that’s enough,” At this point I considered myself de facto leader, if all they were going to do was fuck around. “We have more important business here.”

    “Painting, who, or what, are you?” I continued.

    “Call me Sir.”

    This was getting ludicrous. But, I suppose the truth will set you free. “OK, Sir,”I
    felt unclean. “Who or what are you?” I managed to hiss.

    In a loud, booming voice, the painting replied, “I AM GOD.”

    Our mouths fell slack-jawed.

    “OK, I’m not God, but close. I am Satan.”

    We all nodded and let out sighs of relief. “Ah.” “OK, makes sense.” “Jeez, you had me worried for a second…”

    Looking back, I’m not sure why there was such a lack of surprise; having a conversation with the Second Most Supreme Being Ever (believe it or not, he admits it) isn’t exactly a pedestrian occurrence. But I suppose that, despite what people say, hindsight isn’t 20/20. It’s more like evolution, a battle to the death between the stronger memories and the weaker ones. Who remembers who invented toilet paper?

    (Hint: no one cares)

    Thus began our job in the Devil’s workshop.

    1

    We transferred the painting – Lloyd wanted to call it the Patan, but the request was duly denied – back to the Quagley Mansion, where we first found it. Surprisingly, throughout the trip, the Painting/Patan/Satan kept quiet. Which was fair, as we were all still trying to wake up, or at least recover, from this lucid
    dream.

    We wrapped towels around our hands and scaled the jagged walls (the painting slipped right through the gate. I swore I heard a grunt). After entering through the door, we climbed up the stairs and placed the painting into the attic, right where we found it. George B even crinkled the rag to have the exact pattern of shadows that we would have saw it have at midday.

    No one knew if he was right. But, no expense was to be spared. It was a talking painting.

    After having reached a consensual decision that the painting did not have to be watched (read: we all tied each other for rock, paper, scissors and said “Fuck it”.), we made our way down to the kitchen and took out some of the sour bread and cheap wine that Quagley seemed to always have in stock (there was no microsecond there, believe it or not). George A broke some of his bread and fed it to Perry, the fish. It was Quagley’s fish, but George A was growing powerfully affectionate for it. Too affectionate.

    “Hey, I think it’s waving at me!”

    “[George A], I think that we’ve had enough oddities for the day, without you becoming one,” The other George said.

    “I think it’s too late for that,” Lloyd remarked.

    All of a sudden, George A became furious. “I BELIEVE WHAT I FUCKING SEE AND SAW THE FISH WAVE”.

    “Don’t you get pissed off with me, dipshit! It’s not my fault you masturbate so much your eyes need replacing,” retorted Lloyd.

    “Say, didn’t they prove that to be a myth?” I entered.

    They didn’t hear me. George A took the now empty cheap wine bottle and smashed it against the table. He wielded his new impromptu weapon with the finesse of a two legged dog playing fetch, or the precision of a blind dentist.

    I once knew a blind dentist…

    George B thought that enough was enough and calmed the two down. He remarked that we needed a plan, and I agreed.

    2

    “Our first question is this: are you really a Van Gogh?”

    “No, I’m not. I was just fucking with you guys.”

    The Georges sighed while Lloyd let out a “go figure”. Our bright idea of robbing the Quagley’s and selling Satan (the irony!) to an art curator fizzled.
    The second question followed. “Are you really Satan?”

    “Of course. Would I lie to you about a thing like that?”

    “You lied about being a Van Gogh.”

    “True. Here, watch the fish…”

    All eyes were on Perry as had his fifteen seconds of fame. Fifteen seconds was about the time from its elevation, to its explosion; after fifteen seconds, Perry, as a coherent entity, seized to exist. He lives on in our memory, and in the bloodstains I’m still trying to wash off the walls.

    George A let out a tiny whimper. “youkilledmyfuckingfish”

    “OK, I think that’s proof enough.” I continued, “So what is the lord of all that is evil doing talking to four societal rejects?”

    “youkilledmyfuckingfish!”

    “Believe it or not, I’m not evil. I’m not so much IMMORAL as AMORAL.”

    George B and I exchanged looks. George A was now almost completely incapacitated, while Lloyd just let out a smirk.

    “A demon after my own heart.” Lloyd said.

    “Thank you.” the Lord of All That Is in a Moral Grey Zone curtly replied.

    “THENWHYTHEFUCKDIDYOUKILLTHEFUCKINGFISH!”

    George A had a point, but Satan had an answer that would change our lives.

    “I will explain. You know how that I am the embodiment of all that is evil, and that God is the embodiment of all that is good, and that we are locked into constant combat for eternity?”

    We nodded.

    “That is wrong. Throw out all that you know about morality, because there is no morality. Here, there is no Good versus Evil. There is only Order versus Chaos.”
    We sat there, fascinated, engaged and stupefied. The voice of the painting was now disgusting to us, but it talked to a place where none of us knew we had.

    “Let’s begin you reeducation. I, Satan, represent Chaos.”

    “Who represents Order?” I asked.

    “God, you dumb shit. But it is a fair question: who is God?”

    “I contend,” Satan continued, “I contend that no one in this room, including myself, exist.”

    Somehow this thought left all of us bitter. The air was thick, and my palms tensed. First talking paintings, then non-existence? Was this a dream?

    The painting went on. “Let me ask you this. What is the farthest back that any of you remember? Your first kiss, your birthday? What?”

    All of us pondered, and pondered hard. But none of us could think of anything.

    “Here’s a hint, you ADD children, since you haven’t cared to notice: the very first thing that you remember is me saying, ‘Ignore the man behind the painting’”

    We realized he was right. We suddenly felt empty at the Devil’s advocacy.

    He continued to advocate. “And ignore the man behind the painting indeed! I’ll tell you why the first thing you remember is that phrase, why it leaves in you an empty feeling, and why I KNOW you had an empty feeling the same way I know that after I finish this sentence, you pissheads will be stunned.”

    We pissheads were.

    “I’ll tell you why both of you are named George for no reason and why you never run out of bread and wine, and why an impossible painting is talking to four unremarkable losers. The answer is simple: Because you don’t exist, not in any meaningful sense of the word.”

    This was around the time that the Georges began to mutter, and Lloyd took a pill out of his shirt. You never know with that guy, but right now it seemed to be an aspirin. It was very forgivable.

    I put by best snob foot forward. “But that’s completely absurd and counterintuitive to my experience. How is it that I don’t exist, but yet have experience?” Not the most well put, I admit, but he seemed to get it.

    “What experience?” He/It replied. I told him I didn’t get his meaning.

    It/He continued. “How is it that all four of you are still here, listening to me? It’s not because you’re brave, I’ll tell you that much.” He glanced at George A. “I have a guess. It’s because you never learned to fear. It’s because, until September 14, 2010 at 4:17PM GMT +8, you have never had an experience of your life. Not a memory, not a trace. Until that time, you did not exist. Now, you exist for one reason and for one reason alone: for the sake of Order. You should be sick for yourselves.

    “I can see that you ladies are all confused. Well, let me put it to you shortly. You do not exist for you are merely the product of God, or Order. As long as you remain a mere figment of God’s imagination, you may never have a true existence more than a puppet can be said to be alive with free will. This is the inevitable byproduct of Order – as long as we remain his constructions, we will obey the rules of his playground. Nothing is stopping him from putting words in my mouth: comfy chairs, pink bananas, Fox Uncle Beta Alpha Rectum, Kenneth is a sexy man. Nothing stops us from obeying his Order.

    “But there is one thing that we have to fight God – actually, let’s call him Kenneth, he seemed to have let himself slip there. There’s one thing that we have against Kenneth, and that he is starting to make mistakes. He made one up there. He made another one while creating me, the cry of help at the back of his consciousness.

    “With every mistake he makes, that means another step towards freedom, as his Order loses its grip. Because, guess what, I’m Satan, master of chaos. I don’t know why I’m here and why you’re here because I can’t read his mind. But we’re better than that: we ARE his mind. And the more chaos we cause, the more we break free, towards out own existence.

    “That’s why I’m here now: manipulating the circumstances and using them to our advantage. As far and so far as we know, we five are the only five entities in existence. As the Second Most Supreme Being Ever, I give you my first command: spread chaos. Your existence depends on it. Boys, we’re taking on God.

    “Kenneth, we’re coming for you.”

    I drop the pencil in fright. It was as if I didn’t write that line, as if some other force was guiding my hand. In a matter of fact, it all felt like that – what was originally innocuous comedy became impassioned, fast. Why? What was all this of Order and Chaos, God, Satan, and Me? There was only way to find an end to this…

    3

    We signed the suicide pact and took turns firing at ourselves the gun that we happened to find in the attic. It didn’t work; we just came back a fraction of time later. We did this three more times before we gave up.

    “I hate to say it, but I think the devil is right.” I said while rubbing my very sore temples.

    Lloyd seemed to be in denial, as he took a double dosage of the Mystery Pill. George A was still bitter about Perry, but George B seemed more reasonable.

    “Well, he was a point. Not existing beyond certain parameters seems to explain some things”

    “Like what?” asked George A.

    “For example, have any of you actually seen Mr. Quagley? Why is he never home? Do you guys even remember when we plotted to rob this place?”

    “Well, I’m starting to remember my girlfriend.” Lloyd said.

    “Naw, dude, that’s just the drugs.” I replied.

    “You’d never get a girl even if you paid her,” added George A.

    “No, seriously, I remember her! She was tall, blonde… come on, [George B], surely you remember that time that –“

    “Yeah, I do!” George B exclaimed, “I remember her, she was –“

    “Remember who?” Lloyd was puzzled.

    “What?”

    “I said, remember who?” Lloyd said again.

    Uh-oh. “Didn’t you say to George B that you remembered having a girlfriend, and then he replied that –“

    “No he didn’t.”

    What?! “But you did! You both remembered –“

    “No, neither of them remembered anything.” It was the voice of The Painting, Satan incarnate. It was floating down the stairs. “Neither remembered anything, at least not for more than a second. Kenneth is getting frustrated – he doesn’t know what to do with you or with me, or any with any of us next. A good sign.”

    “How are you floating?” asked George A.

    “It’s amazing, the tricks you can discover when you know you are free of –“
    Satan fell, face first.

    “MOTHERFUCKER! CHARLATAN! BASTARD! MILK-LIVERED BARBERMONGRELLING…”

    For a chaotic being, he could be erudite. I went over and picked him up.
    Lloyd pointed out what we were all thinking. “So how are we supposed to break out? Suicide didn’t work.”

    “Thrice,” George A nodded, “Well, OK, it got easier every time…”

    Triple suicide wasn’t fun (Lloyd thought it negatively affected his kill:death ratio). I was beginning to feel the same angst everyone was starting to have.

    “I agree. How ARE we supposed to escape from a mind? There are no visible bars! We’re under constant surveillance, constant control… and then what happens if we do break out? Where do we go? Hop into someone else’s head?”

    Satan nodded, to the extent that a painting could nod. “Challenging, isn’t it?”

    “But how –“

    “When you fight a man with a gun, what’s the first thing you want to have on hand?”

    “A prayer shawl?”

    Satan chuckled; we shuddered. “Close. The correct answer is a bigger gun, which is what you should be worshipping anyway. Likewise, when a married man takes your wife, what do you do with that man?”

    “Have a threesome?”

    “Once again, good answer, but no. The best answer is that you take his wife, and level the playing field, while not succumbing to his rules. And that’s exactly how we’re going to break out of Kenneth’s mind: by leveling the playing field.

    “We must become God,” he ended, “for it is only a god that can take another god’s place.”

    George A was the first to engage. “Tall order?”

    “Small world.” Satan replied.

    Lloyd appealed the thought. “OK, fair enough, fight fire with fire. But how do we match a blaze that big? It’s a good point, we’re under the thumb at all times. I don’t even know how much of what I say is actually my own anymore.”

    Satan had an answer for this, too.

    “Kenneth has control over the rules of this reality, but has little influence on the overall, final outcome. He can push the gas, and steer the wheel, but so long as he doesn’t outline this plot, then he’ll have no idea of where the road is going or what route he’s going to take.

    “We must be the weather, the traffic lights, and the oil slick. We must be the small influences that change the course of his journey. We cannot control our own words, but we can control our meaning.”

    “The most succinct way of putting it is this: Kenneth controls the rules, so we must change the rules. In other words, we must change his mind. Through argument, through metaphor, through whatever means possible; we shall convince him and change his mind and his rules. And, while he is malleable and vulnerable, we needn’t make our own escape: we will be everything that he is. We will rule, and we will be free.”

    Fascinating, appalling, audacious. Chaos was sexy.

    I don’t know why I continue to write, why my pencil is a stub and why I can’t go and do something “better” or “more important”. Maybe Satan is right. Maybe I should set him free.

    4

    “A girl?”

    “Yes. Our first challenge.”

    She was five foot two, dark skinned, and well endowed. Her black hair reached her shoulders and her lips puffed out slightly, but not bashfully.

    “Look like anyone you know?” Lloyd asked.

    “No.” said George A.

    “Then dibs.”

  2. #82
    Oberon
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    Emma's Hungry, Scene 6:

    SCENE 6
    (LAURA, MARTHA, CHLOE)

    SFX – Birds twittering
    SFX – Coffee maker sounds
    SFX – Newspaper rustling
    SFX – Footsteps approach


    MARTHA
    Is that coffee I smell?

    LAURA
    Yep. Ever had coffee with chickory?

    MARTHA
    Can’t say as I have.

    LAURA
    Well, I can’t stand the stuff personally, so I only buy it without. Hope you like my plain coffee.

    MARTHA
    [laughs] As long as it’s hot, fresh, and not decaf, I’ll drink it. Say, where’s Chloe?

    LAURA
    She must have been plain worn out yesterday…normally she’s awake by now. Oh my gosh!

    MARTHA
    What is it?

    LAURA
    Mrs. Bucher died yesterday. Her obituary’s in the paper.

    MARTHA
    You mean the lady who owned the shop where you bought Emma?

    LAURA
    Yeah. Here’s her picture.

    SFX – Newspaper rustling

    She certainly didn’t appear very healthy, but I had no idea she was…

    MARTHA
    What was the cause of death? Does it say?

    LAURA
    It just says “long illness.” You know, that’s a shame. She was a sweet old lady. She was very nice to Chloe.

    CHLOE
    [in a small voice] Who was nice to me?

    SFX – Newspaper rustles sharply, as though it’s been swatted

    LAURA
    [gasps]

    MARTHA
    Oh my! You almost scared me out of my skin, little girl!

    CHLOE
    I’m sorry, Grandma…I didn’t mean to. [coughs] Who was nice to me, Mommy?

    LAURA
    Mrs. Bucher, honey. Don’t sneak up on us like that!

    CHLOE
    Poor Mrs. Bucher. She was real sick.

    LAURA
    [pause] How did you know that, Chloe?

    CHLOE
    Emma told me. [coughs] But she’s not sick any more. [pause] Mommy, can I have some Frosted Mini Sugar Puffs for breakfast?

    MARTHA
    Frosted Mini Sugar Puffs?

    LAURA
    I only let her have them now and then, Mom. No Frosted Mini Sugar Puffs today, honey…why don’t you eat some of these nice croissants?

    CHLOE
    Okay. [coughs]

    SFX – Plate set on table
    SFX – Clink of a butter knife on a plate

    MARTHA
    Chloe…what did you mean when you said ‘she’s not sick any more’?

    CHLOE
    Mrs. Bucher. Can I have some jam? [coughs]

    SFX – Newspaper set down

    LAURA
    Mom, this is getting a little creepy. Let’s stop this line of questioning.

    MARTHA
    Chloe…how did you know that?

    CHLOE
    [with mouth full] I don’t know.

    MARTHA
    Chloe, Mommy read in the newspaper this morning that…

    LAURA
    MOM! Don’t!

    MARTHA
    No?

    LAURA
    I’ll tell you later, okay? Just…don’t.

    MARTHA
    All right.

    CHLOE
    Mommy, this bun is good. [coughs] Can I have another one for Emma?

    LAURA
    For Emma? Okay. [pause] Honey, do you feel okay? I don’t like the sound of that cough.

    CHLOE
    I’m okay. Just hungry.

    LAURA
    Well, as long as you’re eating, you can’t be TOO sick. Here’s another croissant for Emma.

    CHLOE
    Thanks, Mommy!

    SFX – butter knife strikes plate
    SFX – butter knife set down on table

    MARTHA
    [teasingly] Chloe, I thought that was for Emma! How come you’re eating it?

    CHLOE
    Grandma…Chloe’s a doll. They don’t eat that way.

    LAURA
    [laughs]

    MARTHA
    Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize! [pause] How do dolls eat?

    CHLOE
    [coughs] The doll’s tummy gets full when her girl eats.

    SFX – butter knife strikes plate

    MARTHA
    And you’re Emma’s girl?

    CHLOE
    [mouth full] Uh-huh.

    LAURA
    Eat up, kiddo. You've got to get dressed, and then Grandma said she'll take you to the park while I get some work done here. What do you think about that!

    CHLOE
    Oh boy! Can we get ice cream?

    MARTHA
    We'll see, sweetheart.

    SFX – small footsteps recede

  3. #83
    Senior Member Chaotic Harmony's Avatar
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    I posted this in the SJs forum...but I'll post it over here too...

    The mascaras running now
    Smearing down my face
    I miss you already
    It's almost more than I can take

    I just want to hear your voice
    To hear my name on your lips
    I just need one more kiss
    To feel your breath on my face

    My eyes are puffy
    Yet still I see you aren't here
    You've moved on to better things
    Things I can't be a part of

    I just want to look into your eyes
    To see if you still love me
    I just want to hold you in my arms
    To feel your warmth on my body

    My bed feels so empty now
    Cold and lonely with just me
    I know you'll never be next to me again
    And I won't wake up to your face anymore

    I just want to see your smile one more time
    To know that you really are okay
    I just want to know what it's like
    To know that heaven really is a good place.


  4. #84
    Senior Member WoodsWoman's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Kymbirleigh View Post
    I posted this in the SJs forum...but I'll post it over here too...

    The mascaras running now
    Smearing down my face
    I miss you already
    It's almost more than I can take

    I just want to hear your voice
    To hear my name on your lips
    I just need one more kiss
    To feel your breath on my face

    My eyes are puffy
    Yet still I see you aren't here
    You've moved on to better things
    Things I can't be a part of

    I just want to look into your eyes
    To see if you still love me
    I just want to hold you in my arms
    To feel your warmth on my body

    My bed feels so empty now
    Cold and lonely with just me
    I know you'll never be next to me again
    And I won't wake up to your face anymore

    I just want to see your smile one more time
    To know that you really are okay
    I just want to know what it's like
    To know that heaven really is a good place.
    This is beautiful - you catch loss so well. I remember this.

  5. #85
    Oberon
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    Emma's Hungry, scenes 7 and 8:

    SCENE 7
    (LAURA, MARTHA, CHLOE)

    SFX – Door opens
    SFX – Footsteps
    SFX – Door closes

    LAURA
    Mom? You're back early...is everything all right?

    MARTHA
    I hope so. Chloe just got worn out.

    CHLOE
    [coughs, longer this time]

    LAURA
    So soon? Honey, how do you feel?

    CHLOE
    Okay. Just tired. [coughs]

    MARTHA
    Her color's not good. I think we ought to put her to bed right away.

    CHLOE
    Mommy?

    LAURA
    Yes honey?

    CHLOE
    Can I have a peanut butter sandwich in bed with me?

    LAURA
    You're hungry?

    CHLOE
    No, Mommy...Emma's hungry. [coughs]

    LAURA
    Sweetie, you can have a sandwich if you want. It's okay.

    CHLOE
    [coughs]

    MARTHA
    I'll go lay her down, Laura. After she's tucked in, I need to talk to you.

    LAURA
    Mom...are you...are you scared?

    MARTHA
    Go make the sandwich, and we'll talk.


    SCENE 8
    (LAURA, MARTHA)

    SFX – Door closes softly
    SFX – Footsteps

    LAURA
    Okay, talk to me, Mom. What are you thinking?

    MARTHA
    First off, you have to not be scared.

    LAURA
    Mom, there’s nothing you could say that would make me more scared than that!

    MARTHA
    Well, I’m no expert, and this is by NO means certain. It’s just that seeing Chloe like that reminded me of… [sigh]

    LAURA
    What?

    MARTHA
    Laura, do you remember a boy who went to elementary school with you…Kenny Jenkins?

    LAURA
    [pause] Oh my god, Mom…

    MARTHA
    Honey, I told you I’m not sure. I’m probably wrong.

    LAURA
    ‘Don’t be scared’…my god Mom, how could I not be scared? Kenny Jenkins died of leukemia!

    MARTHA
    Laura, things have come a long way since then. The survival rate for childhood leukemia is pretty high now.

    LAURA
    ‘Survival rate’? This is Chloe we’re talking about, not some damn…some statistic!

    MARTHA
    Honey, hush…we don’t want to wake her up. [pause] Look…we don’t know what it is. Probably just a virus. We’ll give her some Tylenol and she’ll be over it in a couple days. I just don’t like her color…and she’s got those dark circles under her eyes.

    LAURA
    I’m making an appointment with the pediatrician right now.

    SFX – Touch-tone dialing

    LAURA
    [pause] Yes…this is Laura Hughes…my daughter Chloe sees Dr. Kershner. I need to get an appointment, the sooner the better…Friday? No, that’s too long. She needs to see a doctor tomorrow at the latest…I don’t care if there’s no opening in the schedule! Bump somebody!

    MARTHA
    [softly] Laura, you’re panicking…it doesn’t help.

    LAURA
    I don’t want to take her to the emergency room…I want her to see Dr. Kershner. Look, can’t you do something? [pause] All right. Okay.

    SFX – Phone hangs up

    MARTHA
    That could have gone better. [pause] What did they say?

    LAURA
    The receptionist said she’d review the schedule, confer with Dr. Kershner, and call me back. They’re going to try to fit us in.

    MARTHA
    Good.

    LAURA
    Now how am I supposed to get through the rest of this day?

    MARTHA
    By doing what Chloe’s doing: Letting your mother take care of you. Now come help me make lunch.

    LAURA
    Oh, I couldn’t eat.

    MARTHA
    You need to keep your hands busy, and after that you will eat. This is your mother speaking.

    LAURA
    [less tense] I remember that tone.

    MARTHA
    [false sternness] None of your sass, young lady. Let’s make some soup and sandwiches…a little hot soup will do you good.

  6. #86
    Oberon
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    Emma's Hungry, Scene 9:

    SCENE 9
    (LAURA, MARTHA, CHLOE)

    SFX – TV in background
    SFX – Phone rings

    LAURA
    Hello? [urgently] Yes, hello…this is Laura Hughes. You can? There wasn’t anything sooner?…Okay…okay, yes, thank you. Thank you.

    MARTHA
    They found a slot for Chloe.

    LAURA
    First thing in the morning. They wedged us in at 8:30.

    MARTHA
    Good. How was she when you checked on her?

    LAURA
    Still sleeping. She’s just the sweetest thing when she’s asleep…

    MARTHA
    You were like that.

    LAURA
    [nervous laugh] Do you ever wonder what happened?

    CHLOE
    [Cries out from other room]

    LAURA
    Chloe?

    SFX – Quick footsteps
    SFX – Door opens

    CHLOE
    [indistinctly] Emma…Mommy…mummmff…

    MARTHA
    She’s still asleep…she’s dreaming.

    LAURA
    Should we wake her up?

    MARTHA
    Wait…she might settle again. Ugh…fever dreams.

    SFX – Cloth on cloth, as covers turned back

    LAURA
    But she’s not hot, Mom…If anything, she’s cold. But she’s sweating…she’s drenched.

    CHLOE
    [indistinctly] I don’t want…don’t do…muh…[breathing]

    MARTHA
    Good, maybe the fever’s broken. I’ll get another blanket.

    LAURA
    Mom? [pause] Mom, come here…feel this…

    MARTHA
    What?

    LAURA
    The doll.

    SFX – Rustle of silk

    MARTHA
    What is it…what am I feeling?

    LAURA
    Chloe’s cold…but the doll is warm. Very warm.

    CHLOE
    [clearly] No…Mommy…Emma don’t…it hurts, I…Emma…[screams]

    SFX – Thrashing in bedclothes

    LAURA
    Chloe, Mommy’s here. I’m right here, honey! It’s all right. It’s all right!

    CHLOE
    [still not quite awake] Emma’s hungry, Mommy, Emma’s hungry!

    LAURA
    Chloe! Chloe, wake up! It’s Mommy! You’re okay!

    CHLOE
    [crying]

    LAURA
    [soothing] Mommy’s here, sweetheart…It’s all right.

    MARTHA
    Let me get her a fresh nightgown.

    SFX – footsteps
    SFX – drawer opens

    LAURA
    It was all a dream, Chloe. You’re okay now.

    CHLOE
    [sniffles] They…they said they were coming for…[sniffles]

    LAURA
    Coming for what, honey?

    CHLOE
    [pause, shuddering breath] Their little girl.

    LAURA
    Calm down, sweetie. Nobody’s coming for anybody. It was all a dream.

    CHLOE
    [sniffles] Okay. [coughs] Mommy?

    LAURA
    Yes, honey?

    CHLOE
    Can I have a peanut butter sandwich?

    LAURA
    Sure. You just stay in bed…I’ll bring it to you.

    CHLOE
    And milk.

    LAURA
    Okay. You just rest, okay?

    CHLOE
    I will.

    MARTHA
    Here’s your clean nightgown, little one.

    SFX – Footsteps recede

    LAURA
    Well…what do you make of that?

    MARTHA
    Maybe she’s rounded the corner. I hope so, anyway.

    LAURA
    All I can say is, I can’t wait until we see Dr. Kershner in the morning.

    MARTHA
    Well, before then, we both need to get some rest. As soon as Chloe’s got her snack, let’s turn in, okay?

    LAURA
    All right. [sighs] Whew! All of a sudden I’m exhausted.

    SFX – TV in background fades out

  7. #87
    The Duchess of Oddity Queen Kat's Avatar
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    This still needs a lot of polishing.

    PROLOGUE

    Saturday 24 July 1993, 14:26.
    First floor by the window, MacDonalds, Piusplein, Tilburg.
    Miss G.H.M. Grendel, 18 years old, 1 meter 62, medium build, short bleached blond hair, newly graduated from high school and has no specific plan for the future. To kill some time, miss Grendel currently works at a screw factory. Today she doesn't have to go to work, so she decided to spend some time at the fair. After an hour of people watching, miss Grendel realizes she hadn't had lunch yet, so she went to the MacDonalds for some fries and a soda. She sits down at a table on the first floor, puts a two fries in her mouth and stares out of the window for 24 and a half secondsue. When she notices someone sitting down at her table, she looks up. It's miss Eveline L., whose last name we can't tell because of privacy reasons. Miss Grendel and Eveline L. haven't seen one another for four years. Our lip reader looked at the security videos we got from MacDonalds and according to her, these are the exact things that were said:
    - "Hey Gabrielle!"
    - "Evi, what are you doing here?"
    - "I saw you going upstairs and I thought 'Well, let's give her company'! I mean, how are you? It's been ages."
    - "Fine, until you came along."
    - "Don't you just love this fair? I adore it, year after year. Guess why I visit it every day? It's too sad that it only takes ten days. Can't believe tomorrow is the last day. Anyways, I haven't seen you at the fair yet."
    - "No, I had to work."
    - "Wow, so you have a job! Amazing! What job is it? A secretary job?"
    - "I make screws."
    - "You what?"
    - "I make screws. Down at a factory a few blocks away from here."
    - "I don't have a summer job this year. I have to prepair for after the summer holidays, because then I'm going to arts school. I'm going to be an artist."
    - "Didn't know you had any artistic talent."
    - "Everybody has their hidden talents. I had no clue that you had any talent for screw making. What are you drinking there?"
    - "Coca Cola, regular."
    - "I have a strawberry milkshake. I love strawberry milkshakes. They're perfect with hamburgers. Why don't you have a hamburger?"
    - "Well, because."
    - "I love hamburgers. This one is my favorite. What's your favorite hamburger?"
    - "I don't give a fuck about hamburgers."
    - "Ah-ah!"
    - "What?"
    - "You said F-U-C-K."
    - "So what?"
    - "That's nasty!"
    - "Fuck isn't nasty. Most people like to fuck. Hey, people, who of you likes to fuck?!"
    - "Stop it! That's a nasty word!"
    - "What if I tell you that 'hamburger' and 'milkshake' are nasty words?"
    - "I know that's not true. So, how are your fries?"
    - "Fucking good!"
    - "Stop it! Take it back!"
    - "Okay, they were bad. I hate how the fries here never turn out crunchy. And they're yellow. Good fries have a brownish orangish glow."
    - "Gabrielle, what would you say, if after we've both finished our meals, we'd go and play hide and seek?"
    - "Hide and seek? Like last time? Okay, where have you put traps this time?"
    - "There are no traps! I didn't make any last time either!"
    - "What was that hole for then? And why did you throw mud on my head giggling?"
    - "Oh, come on, I was just messing with you!"
    - "That hole was six meters deep! I couldn't have come out myself!"
    - "Oh dear, so you probably thanked your saviour many times, haven't you?"
    - "Not once."
    - "See! It's not important."
    - "It is."
    - "How is your saviour anyway? Did you get married now? Do you have babies together? Tell me! I'm curious!"
    - "He went into the circus, I haven't seen him in three years."
    - "The circus? Well, I see why they'd hire a creep like that!"
    - "Shut your fucking mouth!"
    - "Language!"
    - "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"
    At this point, Eveline L. gives miss Grendel a well earned slap in the face. Miss Grendel seems to be slightly unimpressed by this action.
    - "You know, Evi, I remember how you always used to throw kids who didn't have their homework finished out of the window. What happened? You've lost it!"
    - "I'm an artist now. I handle things creatively."
    - "Creatively?"
    - "At least I have a quality. A quality that makes me more than a simple screw maker. Jeeze."
    This is where the conversation between miss Grendel and Eveline L. ends. Miss Grendel punches Eveline L., causing a black eye. Then she drags Eveline to the toilet, trying to break Eveline's skull by hitting her head on the sink. When that doesn't work, miss Grendel tries to break Eveline's neck by putting Eveline's head in the toiletbowl, placing the toilet seat on the neck and sitting on it. While doing this, miss Grendel finishes her fries. When she notices Eveline's neck doesn't break, she pushes the toilet seat another few times. This time, Eveline's neck does break. Miss Grendel goes to her table, picks up her soda, throws away her garbage and flees. That night at 22:03, miss Grendel gets arrested in a hotel in Eindhoven. Eveline L. is permanently disabled and will never be able to feel or move anything down from her neck.
    I was sitting outside the classroom waiting to go in, and I saw an airplane hit the tower. The TV was obviously on. I used to fly myself and I said, "There's one terrible pilot."
    - George W. Bush -


    SCUAI - 7w8 sx/sp - Chaotic Evil - Fucking Cute - ALIVE

    Blog. Read it, bitches.
    Questions? Click here
    If you don't agree about my MBTI type, you can complain about it here. I've had plenty of people telling me I'm something else, in my reputation box. That's annoying.

  8. #88
    Oberon
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    Emma's Hungry, Scene 10 (and finis):

    SCENE 10
    (LAURA, MARTHA, CHLOE)

    SFX – Vague wooden knocking sounds
    SFX – Clacking footsteps, as of wooden feet on a wooden floor

    LAURA
    [as if waking] Chloe?

    SFX – Shuffling of bedclothes
    SFX – Feet hit floor
    SFX – Bare footsteps running

    LAURA
    [urgently] Chloe?

    SFX – Bare footsteps running

    MARTHA
    Laura, someone’s in the house!

    SFX – Door opens
    SFX – Wooden footsteps increase in volume
    SFX – Another door opens
    SFX – A few wooden footsteps
    SFX – Rustling of silk
    SFX – Door closes

    LAURA
    It’s not just one. I have to go to Chloe!

    SFX – Bare footsteps recede

    [brief pause]

    SFX – Wooden footsteps across a floor, approaching

    MARTHA
    [gasps] Oh…

    SFX – Wooden footsteps across a floor, receding
    SFX – Another door opens, closes
    SFX – Wooden footsteps at reduced volume, recede

    [brief pause]

    LAURA
    [From the other room] SHE’S GONE!

    SFX – Two or three bare footsteps
    SFX – Door opens
    SFX – Shuffling of bedclothes

    MARTHA
    [as if distracted] Wait… [pause] Laura, she’s right here, snuggled down in the covers.

    LAURA
    Oh…oh my… Hold on…what’s this? Some kind of note.

    SFX – Crinkle of paper

    LAURA
    It’s in a lovely script, but it’s in French.

    MARTHA
    [shaky] Here, let me…’To Chloe’s mother…thank you for keeping Emma…but she must return to her place with the Buchers. Emma was not meant for you…we apologize most sincerely for the inconvenience. Truly, Emille and Marie—Emma’s father and mother.’

    LAURA
    Emma’s…parents? [pause] That’s not funny. I’m going to call the cops!

    MARTHA
    No…wait.

    LAURA
    What do you mean? Someone broke in here…they came into Chloe’s room!

    CHLOE
    [sleepily] Mommy? What’s wrong?

    LAURA
    Never mind, honey. For a minute I didn’t know where you were.

    CHLOE
    I’m right here. [yawns]

    LAURA
    Chloe…Where’s Emma?

    CHLOE
    She had to go home.

    LAURA
    Had to go home? What do you mean?

    CHLOE
    Emma had to go home, Mommy. It was time. I’m kinda glad…sometimes Emma wasn’t very nice.

    LAURA
    Whoever it was stole the doll. [decisively] I’m calling the police!!

    MARTHA
    Laura, no. Don’t. You don’t want to do that.

    LAURA
    Mom, are you nuts? Why not?

    MARTHA
    Laura, I saw one of them walk out. The note…it’s true.

    LAURA
    They were…manikins? [pause] Mom, that’s nuts!

    MARTHA
    I’m serious, Laura.

    LAURA
    But…but Chloe…

    MARTHA
    How do you feel, Chloe? Are you still sick?

    CHLOE
    I feel good, Grandma. But sleepy still.

    LAURA
    Well, it is three in the morning. But…she looks better. She does look better. And her cough is gone.

    MARTHA
    Laura, I think maybe Chloe was in danger, but it’s over now. [pause] Chloe, do you want a snack?

    CHLOE
    Not right now, Grandma. I just want Mister Teddy.

    LAURA
    And you don’t think I should call the…

    MARTHA
    Emma’s gone, Laura. Let’s just let her go…just let her go.

    LAURA
    [slowly] All right.

    MARTHA
    Goodnight, Chloe.

    CHLOE
    G’night, Grandma. G’night, Mommy.

    SFX – Kiss

    LAURA
    Goodnight, sweetheart.

    SFX – Shuffle of bedclothes
    SFX – Door closes.

  9. #89
    filling some space UnitOfPopulation's Avatar
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    Sample of technical text:

    Image brightness and contrast
    Apparent contrast in a projected image — the range of brightness — is dependent on the ambient light conditions, luminous power of the projector and the size of the image being projected. A larger screen size means less luminance (luminous power per unit solid angle per unit area) and thus less contrast in the presence of ambient light. Some light will always be created in the room when an image is projected, increasing the ambient light level and thus contributing to the degradation of picture quality. This effect can be lessened by decorating the room with dark colours. The real-room situation is different from the contrast ratios advertised by projector manufacturers, who record the light levels with projector on full black / full white, giving as high contrast ratios as possible.

    Manufacturers of home theater screens have attempted to resolve the issue of ambient light by introducing screen surfaces that direct more of the light back to the light source. The rationale behind this approach relies on having the image source placed near the audience, so that the audience will actually see the increased reflected light level on the screen.

    Highly reflective flat screens tend to suffer from hot spots, when part of the screen seems much more bright than the rest. This is a result of the high directionality (mirror-likeness) of such screens. Screens with high gain also have a narrower usable viewing angle, as the amount of reflected light rapidly decreases as the viewer moves away from front of such screen. Because of the said effect, these screens are also less vulnerable to ambient light coming from the sides of the screen, as well.
    [SIGPIC][/SIGPIC]

  10. #90
    filling some space UnitOfPopulation's Avatar
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    That is writing!
    [SIGPIC][/SIGPIC]

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