Wednesday, July 20, 2016


Hartwin: i'm tiring of all this. when does it end?

the flamingos are snoozing. that was some heavy black chai.

Hartwin notices a line he can cross. the Fight Night goons and the gators are going at it. the toucans and toughs are tussling. the dinosaurs and dinosaurs are determining destiny. he calls up Harfi.

Hartwin: meet me at the shed. the moment i noticed that shed it ceased to be secret. i'm packing and want to go over protocol with you. how are you at handling weapons?

Harfi: i can handle a stick. if you knew me, you'd see how ridiculous that statement was.

Hartwin: these are the new ones. the jump guns. they startle the user as well as the used. what a time to be alive. i mean that in a negative way. when bullets brag over brains.

Harfi: lasers. it's all lasers now. always meant to cut into flesh, surgically.

Hartwin kicks and punches and lunges and sweeps and limbos and jumps and jumps higher and roundhouses and houses it and flips and mid-flips to take in the view of Bump perching on a tree and uppercuts which affords him his final view of the purple sky. he wonders.

Hartwin: this is getting me nowhere. i toprock and they bottomrock. when did we stop dancing? more men come out of the woodwork, sure of their cause. let's save trees. my knuckles hurt. but not my toes. one punch would be so easier. whatcha doin'?

Bump: better reception up here. i'm a sitting duck. just end it.

Hartwin: nah, i see your crazy hair frizzling in the wind. you make the sky gold. crazier than your eyes of which you have none. careful with that stuff. i know about drugs, they don't work.

Hart enters the cabin behind the bush and into the root cellar. there he barely makes out Harfi practicing in the dark, spitshining the long barrel of her laser guns like a pro.

Hartwin: careful. the newer models have two triggers which look the same. one fires. one self-cleans.

Harfi: now you tell me. triggered.

also in the underground cellar, Bump talking to Codrus on the...whatever:

Codrus: do you understand, my son? we are entering the second phase. it's always different from the first faze. your first time is easy, rarely are things duplicated in a row. i want you to act more presidential. this is coming from me not one of your yes-lackeys. this is serious now not a game show. i want you to be what i always wanted you to be. see you can still be republican but be dignified when you wear that smoking jacket with the too-long sleeves. comb your hair, you still can with the brush i gave you. take off that silly golf cap and wear a beret in solidarity. show that you stand for something not against. be for firm conservative values but also listen to Nine Inch Nails like John McCain, who is a real hero. be somebody your children would look up to if you had spent your life loving and not leading a wild goose chase for a stupid ball. democrats would be proud for you must govern all. even if it means losing. be humble, humile, human. folk can spot a robot, a facsimile, a copy. get up on stage and speak from your gold heart, never use a teleprompter, that's just trouble. above all no more bad words. just positive words. you must look forward to go forward.

Bump: yes, boss, i follow yous to the end of the earth.

Bump bumps his back on Hartwin's back, Hartwin busy surveying the area.

Bump: excuse me. hey kid, can i ask you a wuestion?

Hartwin gives Bump the man nod but it's too dark to see.

Bump: Wednesday question: how do you do it?

Hartwin: it's hard. but i'm not crazy. and i actually live in the real world. we must all live in the real world before it's too late.


Lysander is on the phone with a nice but frazzled lady who wants to be called Carmen from now on. she does not identify as lady but as cottage witch. she lives in a faraway bog that barely touches the edge of the Fell. telephone reception is droppy.

Lysander: no, you're not dodgy. anyway why are you so angry?

Carmen: i was hoping you'd tell me. that's why i called. and stop making fun of my bogan. you're obliged to help all of us. you took an oath, i didn't. i don't know who i am anymore. oh you mean mad right now? well i'm trying to remove the plastic off my liquid butter and even with my long curling nails i can't. damn thing is preventing me from enjoying my harvest corn.

Lysander: run it under the faucet. yes turn the water on first. recount your cat dream.

Carmen: oh yes, a splendid affair! they say recurring dreams are bad luck but every night i pray on my cinnamon Rice Krispies to return me to the point where my dream always ends, to see how the story finishes. there's not much to tell really. i'm on stage where i shouldn't be. it's not like i earned that ticket or a backstage pass, i'm in the way. the theatre is dark save for the calming moon glow of the overhead blue light. it's trained on the professionals not the passersby. i see my two cats on stage! the male and female one as the two leads. of course, my cats are talented. they're singing gloriously! and dancing perfectly! so graceful they dodge their tails and leap from rooftop set to rooftop set. this is a standard production of Cats on Broadway. but there are no humans around, just me. no dumb two-legs's in costumes, this is the real deal. real cats performing their aching lives. the audience roars in a fit of mews. and then it always ends with that golf ball bouncing onto the stage ruining the mood. what do you think it means, doc? like my cats are growing up, they don't need me anymore, i'm just their nuisant mother getting in the way?

Lysander: what do you think it means? you're a better judge of yourself than i am. i can't get in your head.

Carmen: seriously? i could have spent this money on cat litter you know.

Lysander: no wait, it just came to me. your boyfriend, right? it always has to do with a man. how is he?

Carmen: a boy broke my heart. and i ran away. and now i live in a shack. where it's hard to cook. i don't want to talk about it.

Lysander: you need to get out more. you deserve more. you deserve better.

Carmen: i mustn't. there's a special seed of wood that only grows on my patch of land. underwater tree. i've never told anybody this but this is why i settled there. what can i say? i'm a sappy protector, it's what i do. in the bogan blood. i'm hoping to craft the most powerful wand out of it to exact maximum magical revenge. the drones aren't on are they?

Lysander: i wouldn't know. above my pay grade. i haven't gotten paid in a while. i'm starving. i'm gonna get you in touch with two other brassy dames i know. girls need the girls at times like these. to commiserate. obfuscate. and eliminate. over tea. girl power, don't know much about it, must have slept through that class, but it seems to be effective. The Three Amigas type of thing.

Carmen: sure, doc, sure, whatever your lead is. and go ahead and scribble your number on that slip of paper.

Lysander: here's to reception. my writing is so bad i once killed a man cos my prescription was so illegible. but i can't screw up numbers, right?


Wolf: the terrorists are holding the Halls of Congress hostage. eleventh hour. they're sitting in and calmly assessing their next move, refusing to sit down until their demands are met. besides what flavor of pizza. the President is planning to join them after dinner. it's unclear whether or not they're wearing packs.

Wolf: in other related news, nobody is paying attention to the conventions. Cartoon Network just scored their highest ratings ever with inclusive Steven Universe counterprogramming.

Wolf: and now, sports. Anderson is, uh, still on vacation so filling in is Matthew Chris. traitor! just kidding. working for the enemy, huh? how does it feel? do you feel? is there such a thing as blood money anymore? hey take off that ridiculous golf cap! you're a grown man, bitch! what's the scoop, poop?

Matthew: golf. even older than tennis. even older than my wife. will wonders ever cease? yes they will if we don't choose wisely. here he comes now! the man of the hour! Tiger Woods at 70 years old pulls off a modern miracle, which is the only miracle we get these days, and wins the PGA Major! Tiger, Tiger, watch your step, those divots are deadly, don't want you breaking a hip.

Tiger: it's alright, i take something for that.

Matthew: so you finally get your next major when everyone said you couldn't. was that fuel for you?

Tiger: i don't heed the naysayers. mostly cos i've been in a coma for decades. but when i came out of it that rest really helped. i felt like a new man. they did something to me.

Matthew: just don't feel TOO energized, tiger! *HA* don't hit the jackpot with a Vegas waitress, if you catch my wind, HA!

Tiger: i don't catch balls.

Matthew: what's next for you?

Tiger: i cold.

Matthew: you're only as cold as you feel. what is your reaction to the untimely passing of Angelina Jolie and Ronda Rousey?

Tiger: i wish i could have. so strange.

Matthew: yeah they did a Thelma & Louise thing. who knew they were even friends? did you see that movie? i didn't, i only go for political thrillers. when's the next season of 48?

Tiger: it's not the same. it's Jack, Jr. the world has gone mad. it's swallowed up my madness, leaving me empty. i don't know what to do so i do what i've always done, what i've trained for. the only thing i know how to do: swing for the fences.


back at the base after a semi-successful mission, Hartwin crashes on the floor of his room using his phone as a pillow. Harfi slides her piece by him.

Harfi: did we win? hey you'll crush your screen!

Hartwin: that is the more pertinent concern. after all this phone is what we're fighting for. the light is burning my retinas.

Harfi: it's Lieu.

Hartwin: hello? swamp thing! how's the posting? well you sound rested.

Lieu: yep. no street slang, just proper Pope's English. lonely. i'm a little funderstaffed around here. i hate my phone.

Hartwin: i can barely hear you.

Lieu: after 8 seconds it inevitably drops the signal and goes black. story of my life. what important information am i missing? are you giving me the man nod right now in agreement?

Hartwin: yep. damn that's twice today it didn't work. in a row.


the ceiling fan is a drone all along. it spreads its long menacing robotic arms like a cold spider, beeps baneful, and points its gun at Hartwin with a sterile swivel. before thought, there's reaction. Harfi reaches for her gun and shoots at the ceiling drone. but the barrel was upside down. the golden bullet enters Hartwin's chest with a speedy slice. his right arm spasms but he is still able to direct with his left.

Harfi screams with blood.

Hartwin has just lost half of his breath but he's able to remain calm.

Hartwin: don't worry. it's not over. fuck the training really does kick in when you don't.


Harfi is beside herself with griefful shock. luckily the drone malfunctions and doesn't disintegrate the two of them right then and there.

Hartwin (with pierced breath): wait.....this........was......supposed to be the lasers......what happened.......

Harfi (tearfully): that's what i thought.

Hartwin: last of a dying last shot.........upgrades are always patchy.......need patches........modern problems.......problems with modernity..........not an ordinary's coated with the Stones.......Bump's family reserve?........i'm not least not yet...........i'm living for the first time.........i can see clearly now the pain is gone.......dawnest before the stole this from the enemy's cache, huh?......raided their drop joint....good girl....

Harfi: two stones.

Hartwin: the Stones are directing me to look to the past.......must always look to the past for answers..........when i was fighting.......endlessly fighting.........i looked up........and saw the angel on top of the all white and spaghetti straps.....hammering her staff down with authority....she was talking on divine direct to me from afar..........but you know it's not human talking..........angel speak is so powerful it sings in its speech.....


Hartwin's entire left side of his body has gone limp, his right side is shaking.


Jules said...

Don’t cross the line, Hartwin! No, the drugs don’t work they just make you worse..

Wuestion = Weds question. Love it. How about a Friday Fuestion?

The next season of 48 with Jack Junior. I can’t wait.

Are there really such things as cinnamon rice crispies? I NEED them.

One day the whole world will be cinnamon.

Tell Carmen Electra to step aside -New babe on the block - Cinna Mon Krispie. (please put her into your next weeks story!)


the late phoenix said...

thank you for reading and commenting, mah dahlin. there's a suestion but nothing happens on the weekends. spoiler: Jack the spiritual leader of ISIS. YES! APPLE CINNAMON RICE KRISPIES! and of course The Store doesn't carry them! i would but according to the rules i've used up my babe limit. too many sex scenes and the serious story loses its gravitas and becomes a romantic romp. the writer of this rulebook is George RR Martin *)

Jules said...

What does he know?! *)