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Wednesday, September 19th, 2007
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1:32 am - lollerskates!
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Passage:
Ever since Billy had been thrown into shrubbery for the sake of a picture, he had been seeing Saint Elmo’s fire, a sort of electronic radiance around the heads of his companions and captors. It was in the treetops and on the rooftops of Luxembourg, too. It was beautiful.
Billy was marching with his hands on top of his head, and so were all the other Americans. Billy was bobbing up-and-down, up-and-down. Now he crashed into Roland Weary accidentally. “I beg your pardon,” he said.
Weary’s eyes were tearful also. Weary was crying because of horrible pains in his feet. The hinged clogs were transforming his feet into blood puddings.
At each road intersection Billy’s group was joined by more Americans with their hands on top of their haloed heads. Billy had smiles for them all. They were moving like water, downhill all the time, and they flowed at last to a main highway on a valley’s floor. Through the valley flowed a Mississippi of humiliated Americans. Tens of thousands of Americans shuffled eastward, their hands clasped on top of their heads. They sighed and groaned.
☺ ☺ ☺
Billy and his group joined the river of humiliation, and the late afternoon sun came out from the clouds. The Americans didn’t have the road to themselves. The westbound lane boiled and boomed with vehicles which were rushing German reserves to the front. The reserves were violent, windburned, bristly men. They had teeth like piano keys.
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Imitation:
Ever since Mark had been through the disaster that was hurricane Katrina, he had been having a tremendous deterioration in memory, a sort of diminishment of his brain cells. It helped him to forget. He was forgetful.
Mark was taking a test, and he took his shoes off to help him focus. His legs were shaking, shaking. He annoyed Stephen involuntarily. “My bad,” he said.
Stephen was anxious. He was nervous because he had not studied very well. The test was transforming his brain into a useless glob of lime gelatin.
At every question Mark’s incessant leg-shaking was joined by more shoeless students. Stephen had frowns for them all. The class was shaking like an earthquake, and they quaked on through to the ringing of the bell. Through the hallways flowed a stream of newly shodden students. Thousands of students muddled to their next classes, their legs poised for the next shift of tectonic plates. They griped and grumbled.
☺ ☺ ☺
Mark and Stephen joined the stream of students, and the fluorescent lights shined ever brighter. They didn’t have the hallway all to themselves. The students going upstream jumped and bustled against the current which was flowing to the center of school. The salmon students were rude, pushy, determined fish. They had mouths like trumpet bells.
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(3 comments | comment on this)
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| Wednesday, August 29th, 2007
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5:50 pm - Hm...
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Sometimes I just don't get CO at all. I was outside dealing with the pool robot vacuum thing, and he tells me to skim the surface of all the leaves and such. I kept saying how I'll get eaten alive. I was bitten 3 times in about five minutes.
CO: You don't get bitten by mosquitos.
me: Yes, I do. See? *points out bites*
CO: *sees them* You don't get bitten by mosquitos.
me: ... what?
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(comment on this)
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| Wednesday, August 22nd, 2007
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5:13 am
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So apparently I forgot to cancel my emusic subscription before the free trial ran out, so I ended up paying $20 for it. At least I'm getting 50 songs for it, which is much cheaper than itunes. I got 25 free downloads for the trial, so a total of 75. So tonight I started trying to find everything on emusic that I couldn't find on limewire or soulseek. I was able to find 33 out of 72, which is pretty shitty for a damned music downloading service. iTunes certainly has a better selection, I'll give it that much. I'm trying to decide what to get with the remaining 42 downloads before I unsuscribe (I need to unsuscribe by sept 1st or I'll get charged another $20). Only problem with that is I can't think of anything I wouldn't be able to find on limewire or soulseek, or various torrents. Sew if anyone has any suggestions I'll take them into careful consideration.
On a side note, I can't praise soulseek enough. It rawks. It rawks the hizzouse. Metaphorically speaking, of course.
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(comment on this)
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| Monday, August 20th, 2007
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9:44 pm - fuck wii bowling
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The Holy Playlist of Vatican Law was downsized to 210. Anyway, I'm convinced that wii bowling hates me. I was playing with ryan and CO just now. I had a pro rating of 1011, CO had 1008. If you drop below 1000, you lose the pro status. So during one game, I scored 178 and CO scored 174. I lost 12 points and thus my pro status and CO gained 1 point to keep his. So that was annoying enough, but what happened next was especially annoying. I scored 180 and CO got 159. I only gained 1 point, and CO SMURFING GAINED A POINT TOO. How is that fair? It's not, that's how. So that's why I'm convinced that wii bowling hates me. Gawd. I can't even form a coherent paragraph. I'm so screwed for college.
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(comment on this)
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| Sunday, August 19th, 2007
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11:32 pm
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Oh boy I can't wait until I can just get out of this damned house.
Right now I'm editing the Holy Playlist of the Vatican Law. There are tons of songs I've just plain gotten tired of, so I need to downgrade them. I started the process with 476 songs, I'll probably end up downgrading half of them. After that, I'll need to start getting all the songs from my favorites list in pandora and sort them accordingly. Gawd I'm bored.
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(comment on this)
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| Sunday, July 22nd, 2007
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3:08 am
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So I've been thinking about starting to mess with the site again. I can't figure out what I'd add to it though. I've pretty much given up on furthering the whole predator religion thing. I have decided, however, that I just want to put on as much random crap as I can come up with though. Also, I doubt anyone at all will take me up on this offer, but if you ever want something put on the site, whatever it is (within reason), I'll put it on asap. It's not like I have anything else to do. That something can be a story, a picture you made, rants, anything. If it's important enough for you to want it on the site, then I figure I should put it on. I must say though that home-made content is preferred. I don't think I'd like to copy/paste a bunch of links or anything. I could make a separate page for that if I find the need to, but as for now that need is nonexistant.
All that aside... I'm not sure what I want to do. Parodying movie plots would be kind of interesting. I have a hard time coming up with new ideas on my own really. I'm most creative and active when I'm talking to other people. I just come up with the most random shit ever that way. I think I'll start the idea process by reading over a few old entries and convos. That normally gets the old noggin working. I'd like to write something, but first off, I wouldn't know what to write about, and second off, I suck at writing. So I doubt I'll end up doing it. I just need to find something to do.
edit: So I remembered that I'd wanted to write some of my own versions of some How To guides on wikihow. I've only remade the "How to sweep a girl off her feet" article yet, and there would've been more to come, but I ran into a complication. Apparently, free accounts can only have 20 page elements, and that last article was my 20th. What I'm going to do later on is just change all the pages into one element things (if you look at each page on the site, each box is an element) and just use html like I used to do. We'll see how that turns out. Also, if you guys have any ideas of any how to you want to make, or want me to make, I'm all ears/eyes.
Right, so that one article was one idea. I'm also making a "You know you play too much world of warcraft when..." list. It's quite short actually. I've only been able to come up with one example so far... "You press the auto-run key in other games and sit there wondering why it doesn't work." I'd read other lists, but I know that if I do that I'll just end up copying random shit on the list, so that's all for nowz.
current mood:  artistic
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(2 comments | comment on this)
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| Saturday, July 21st, 2007
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4:18 am - Mark's Movie Madness!
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Today I officially held Mark's Movie Madness. I watched movies all day and well into the night and the next morning (I'm guessing about a full 12 hours of movies). So, here is a list of each movie with my thoughts.
Lockout - Shitty, shitty, shitty horror movie. If Epic Movie were a horror movie, this would be it. I just mean that in terms of the shittiness of the movie. The ending has also been overused. Way way overused. You know, the whole, "oh myyy, it turns out that the killer was the main character the entire time and we, the audience, were left in the dark until the very end!"
Mr. Brooks - I thought this was a rather strange, yet good movie. I have to admit that I thought Dane Cook's performance was decent, but just way out of character. He's not even trying to say or do anything funny, which is (lyke sew tawtally) what I expected from him.
True True Lie - I'm not sure whether I liked this one or not. It's about this twenty-four year old chick who suffered from 'delusions' where she thought she and her two friends had killed a boy when they were twelve. So she's in a mental hospital for twelve years and is just now getting out. Not to ruin the movie or anything, but they're not delusions. It did happen, and she ends up killing one of her friends for being a bitch.
Amadeus - I thought this was pretty entertaining. It was about this one composer who had some sort of vendetta against mozart because of his talent. It kind of made me hate mozart. I mean really hate him. I wanted to strangle him to death. They gave him quite possibly the most annoying laugh known to man. But... aside from that, good movie.
Diamond Dogs - I probably shouldn't have watched this since a good portion of it was in a different language. And being a not particularly legal copy, the bottom part was blurred out, so the subtitles were unreadable. I soldiered on though because there were lots of english parts. As for the movie itself, it was a classic action movie. I wouldn't really call it good, but I wouldn't really call it bad either.
Hannibal - I <3 that evil son of a bitch. I really do. It's so damn sick. I mean at the end, he feeds this one guy HIS OWN FUCKING BRAIN. How fucked up is that? Majorly fucked up. That's how much.
In the Land of Women - This one has that one guy from the OC in it. Which guy from the OC you ask? Well, damned if I know. All I know is that he, indeed, was on the OC. At any rate, he goes to stay with his dying grandma and he affects the lives of the three girls who live across the street. And by girls I mean a mom and a couple daughters, one in highschool the other in grammar school. I really liked this movie, but I'm totally super jealous that the son of a bitch from the OC got to make out with the chick from the messengers who, I might add, looked better as a brunette.
Pretty Cool Too - I'll be honest here. I don't really remember why I decided to download this in the first place. I couldn't get through more than 10 minutes of this piece of shit. As much as boobies make the movie, they really didn't do anything for this one.
Ratatouille - A movie about a cooking rat? I know what you're asking yourself, "oh man, that sounds like an awesome premise for a movie. Can it get even better?" Well I'll tell you. No. No it can not. But more seriously though. This movie was pretty good. It had its humorous moments like any animated movie should do, and it has a bright, uplifting message. "Let rats cook your food."
Seance - Ah yes, what can I say other than the itsy bitsy spider tune is really, really fucking annoying after the first 10 or so times. Overall, it was a rather mediocre horror type movie.
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(2 comments | comment on this)
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| Thursday, July 19th, 2007
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6:26 am
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Have you ever watched a movie that was so good that after it ended, you just sat there in awe and thought for a while? You know, a movie that'll suddenly make you feel like writing or talking or something of that general nature. I just watched one of those movies today, and that movie is Cashback. I know I can't describe the movie as well as it deserves, so I won't even try. All I have to say is watch it.
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(6 comments | comment on this)
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| Wednesday, July 4th, 2007
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11:01 pm
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So tonight the family and I went to a baseball game for a belated father's day gift. There of course was the home team, the Memphis Redbirds. But... there was also one of the shittiest names for a team ever. The Isotopes. The Albuquerque Isotopes. If you were wondering, yes, I did have to look up how to spell Albuquerque. Now, I'm not one for enjoying any sports, but when in the first inning the fucking Isotopes scored a whopping 4 runs compared to the Redbirds' 0, I knew it was going to be terrible. In the end it was 12-7, with the Isotopes topping the stupid birds.
I did find one thing absolutely hilarious though. So in all baseball games they try to stick in filler between the innings so people don't go stir crazy and end up murdering someone. One of those fillers is always shooting shirts into the crowd using a slingshot. What happened was the douchebag shooting the shirts looks up and sees the several sections in front of him bursting with excitement. He saw people jumping up and down yelling at the top of their voice. He saw people waving their hands in the air, like they just don't care. He saw anger; he saw excitement. He witnessed every emotion in front of him in a flash... of emotion. Then he decided to look far to the right at some half-empty bleachers with people just minding their own business, and then shoot a shirt at them when they weren't even looking.
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(comment on this)
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| Tuesday, July 3rd, 2007
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3:39 pm - Teh story if you can't read the thread I posted the link to earlier
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As I warned in the subject, most of this will not be very pleasant. I've tried my best to be as detailed and honest as possible. I am always open to intelligent comments or suggestions. If you don't feel comfortable posting that here, you can contact me with the info in my profile.
I don't expect anyone to believe any of this. I'm completely fine with that. I only ask that you take it for what it is and resist shitting up the thread.
Edit: Even though I read over this twice, I missed the typo in the subject line. I am retarded. Free hugs if someone can change "definltely" to "definitely".
The Ask/Tell thread. Probably quite a few "spoilers" in here. But, you'll get a little better understanding of the story. I will cover everything I talked about in the A/T thread and more.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 (see this post)
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
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Having a birthday on Christmas would be a gift to most. Personally, I fucking despised it. It only seemed to amplify my lack of family. But today, I was officially a teenager. To me, this wasn't a big deal. I felt the same as ever. To everyone else, it was a huge milestone. I was now, "ready to take on more responsibility." By this point, I almost completely provided for myself. I bought and prepared my own meals, clothes, school supplies, shoes, everything. I got myself up in the morning and in to school on time, despite the fact that I wasn't allowed to have an alarm clock (The noise spooked the various addicts throughout the house). To them, an age signaled adulthood. To me, I'd been an adult longer than any of them.
I stood out in front of the house waiting for my girlfriend. It was lightly snowing, but the wind made it near unbearable. She was out of town with her uncle, visiting relatives. The family wanted them to stay past New Years; she had other plans. She assured me that she would be back by Christmas evening. I had no doubts about that. I knew exactly how persuasive she could be. Later that night I saw her uncle's truck turn the corner sharply and come to a sliding-stop in front of me. I could hear intense arguing. The cab light came on and I had visuals to go with the sound. I could see her gathering her things, still yelling, while he banged on the steering wheel and shouted. Every few seconds the scene was punctuated by a booming "FUCK!". She spilled out of the car and I went over to help her carry her things.
"Hey, asshole!" Somehow, I knew he was talking to me.
"Yes? "
"She's yours," he said calmly and slammed on the gas. His angry drive-off was thwarted by his tires spinning in the snow. I laughed and got another booming, "FUCK!" in return.
Without a word we finished gathering her things and headed toward the house. I was suddenly teleported from the sidewalk, up the stairs and to the door. The medicine I was on often caused blackouts. I would be conscious, still moving doing whatever I had been doing before, but completely out of it. I never remembered anything during these blackouts. I was told I was visibly different - eyes dead and face expressionless. I immediately checked my hands. No blood. I glanced around. No body. My biggest fear was blacking out and waking up a murderer. I banged on the outside door. Soon she's at the door - naked from the waist down, glassy-eyed, lipstick smeared. Inside, all the furniture is pushed against the walls and there's a mattress on the floor. There are people around it in different states of undress. We cross the room toward the stairs. Out of the corner of my eye I see her kneel down in the middle of the mattress and remove her shirt. Behind me she says,
"Don't use the phone."
"Yes mother." I say.
We go up the stairs and to my room. I check the closet, under the bed, in the corners, under my clothes. I make sure the window is still nailed shut. I use all 4 locks on the door and finally sit down on my bed, relieved. I will never be caught off guard again. She's got 4 bags, a backpack and an overstuffed purse. This can't be good. She's angrily digging through her things, obviously looking for something.
"So, "I say, "What the fuck is going on?"
"I can't find my money!"
"What money?"
"The $800 I got from my relatives for Christmas!" I go through the normal rundown. Where did you put it? Whens the last time you saw it? What does it look like? etc. She saw it in the car right before she got out. We decide I should go dig through the snow looking for it. After a half hour or so, I decide it's not getting any less lost and head inside, this time through the back door. Coming into the house, I see her standing in the kitchen on the phone. She knows she's never supposed to leave my room without me. My paranoia takes over and momentarily all I can do is beat myself up. Why the fuck did I give her a key? What if something happened to her? Fuck! Back into reality and I hear her yelling at someone on the phone about her money being missing. She hangs up,
"My sister says she heard my uncle talking about taking it from me. He thinks without the money I'll have to come back. Fuck that! Fuck him!"
I time travel again and we're back in my room. I can hear her talking but I can't understand any of it. I check my hands again, then the area around me. No blood, no body.
"Have I checked the room yet?"
"What?" she says, almost screaming and nearly out of breath.
"Did I check the room?"
"Yes, twice. And you locked the door." The anxiety is gone and I try to piece together whatever I've missed. Her original plan to use her Christmas money to take a bus back here ended when she found out the buses weren't running on Christmas. Instead, she harassed her uncle until he drove her the 5 hours back. Her plan was to take the money she'd gotten and move us into our own apartment. I'm 13, she's barely 16. I doubted anyone would even rent us an apartment. And if they did I doubted it would be anywhere a human being should live. She yelled. She cried. She threw things. I sat on the bed quietly trying to think of a solution.
I am not prideful. I am not afraid to ask for help. Though I do believe you should always at least try to fix things yourself (unless it's going to cause permanent damage). You don't learn anything by constantly getting someone else to do things for you. My girlfriend did not share this attitude. First, she wanted me to find her uncle, kick his ass and get her money back. Then, we were going to break into his house (which was a block away), steal things and sell them to recoup the lost money. Lastly, she considered prostitution - which I quickly squashed. During none of this did she ever mention getting a job (I'd tried to get a job previously but was unable because of my age). Go figure.
"I'll just ask my mother." Most of the money I earned then was from sources related to my mother. Sometimes I would transport. Other times I would mix, measure and bag. At 13, I could roll a joint with my eyes closed and had a unique knowledge of chemistry. I figured I could pick up some odds jobs or, at least do more of what I was already doing. Time traveling again and I'm standing in front of my mother. She's sitting on the couch. From behind a cloud of smoke she says, "He might have something for you. He's at the parlor." I do the murder check and then I'm out the door and on the bus.
My stepfather and his friend owned a pizza parlor. They'd owned it for 10+ years and made maybe 20 pizzas in that time. Everything was brand new and mostly unused. The place was more of a hang out and a place to wash money than a restaurant. I get off the bus a few blocks away. If they see me getting off a bus they're going to give me endless shit for "supporting a system of fascism." Whatever the fuck that means. Soon I'm close enough to see that the "delivery vehicle" is sitting outside. This is a good sign that Joe, my stepfather's business partner is there. Years ago they'd bought a hearse from some sort of impound auction. They had it painted gold. They thought it was hilarious. The hearse was mostly used to make "deliveries" and to occasionally go to "business meetings." They kept it legal, current and in good condition. Their theory was that no cop would pull over a hearse. As far as I know, they were right. Inside I see Joe standing in the middle of a short row of arcade games playing Hogan's Alley. I have memories of being very little and playing this game. As I walk up behind him I can see him shooting the police and civilians and giggling at the angry noise the game makes when you execute an innocent.
He knows I'm here for business and immediately gets down to it. We go in the back. He fires up the ovens, some fans and a few other appliances. The room is noisy and he likes it that way. The only way to talk and be heard is to either shout or get right up next to the persons' ear and talk in a normal voice. "I need to make a large amount of money quickly." As he hums I notice he smells strongly of cigarettes and something else I can only describe as fat, dirty, hooker ass. No doubt my guess on the smell was extremely accurate.
"Like fast, fast?"
"As soon as possible." I don't want to press too hard. I know he views me as a risk and it's quite a lot to ask of him. Plus, he can go from calm to homicidal in seconds.
"I'll see what I got going on. Oh, Happy Birthday, Merry Christmas and all that shit too. Thirteen now right?" I nod. He hums some more.
"I'll let you know." He says it in way that I know means, "Get the fuck out," so I do.
Two days after Christmas and someone is banging on my bedroom door. Next to me, my girlfriend is still sleeping. I stand up and walk to the door, digging in my pockets for something I might use as a weapon(I slept fully dressed). I learned not to keep knives, guns or any other sort of weapon in my room. It always ended up being used against me no matter how well hidden. Crack heads can be quite determined and thorough.
"Yes?"
"It's Joe."
"Five minutes please."
"Two is enough."
"OK."
I re-tie my shoes, brush my teeth with water I kept in gallon jugs, and spit into an empty one. I tell my girlfriend that I'm going to be gone for awhile and make her promise, several times, not to leave unless the house was burning down. And even then, reconsider death by fire.
I follow him down the stairs, outside, and to the car. I pull the handle on the door and I'm time traveling. I'm back and we're driving slowly down some block I'm unfamiliar with. My hands are empty, but now gloved. I'm wearing a jacket and there's something in both pockets. I never wear jackets. I didn't even own one. If it was cold, so was I. I spent months at a time homeless and I wanted to have a better tolerance for the cold. Fuzzy logic, I know. Though, I do have a better tolerance for unpleasant things in general now.
"What are we doing? I wasn't here all the way."
"Just watch my ass, OK?"
"OK."
We get out of the car and head up some stairs and into a duplex. We enter, without knocking. He sits on the couch and offers himself a drink, which I go get. Across from him, on a smaller couch, sits two guys. One looks like the normal strung out addict and the other looks relatively together, but nervous. Even with his naturally brown skin, he looked pale. I sit down on the couch next to Joe, directly across from the pale-brown guy. They talk about money, drugs, lateness and obligation. I tune everything out and watch the two guys across from me closely. I watch how their hands move, how they shift. I study what I can see of the house. It seems to be three rooms, all directly connected shotgun-style. A small living room leads directly into an even smaller kitchen that leads into a bedroom with no door. I see a short hallway to the right of the kitchen and assume that's the bathroom. There are two exits, the front door that leads to the stairs where we first entered and the back door which I assume leads to a fire escape (like every other building in this part of the city). I don't pay attention to what they're saying, but I can feel the conversation coming to a climax. Joe stands. Sweeping his hand across the room, he says to all of us:
"Stay there." I can feel the control in his voice. So can they.
He finishes off his soda and puts the empty can in his pocket. Instantly, I know what we're here for. I can feel the panic in my stomach. I push it down as hard as I can. If it gets to my face, this could so easily go wrong. After a few seconds, I regain control. I see Joe opening a shoe box that was sitting on the counter. He dumps some of the contents out and I can see that its money. He scoops it up and puts it back inside. I rub my hands together like they're cold and casually put them in my jacket pockets. In one, I can feel something cylindrical. I can't tell what it is. In the other, I feel what has to be a gun. The panic is back in my stomach. It's burning my entire abdomen. My chest is on fire and I can feel it moving up toward my face. I close my eyes and pretend I'm going to sneeze. I stay like that for a few seconds, eyes closed, hand over my nose and mouth. I talk to myself. I pray for a blackout. I push it back down. I open my eyes, shake my head and rub my nose. Joe stands behind the two guys and paints a contemplative look on his face. We both know what he's going to do. I've seen him do it before.
He turns his left side toward me and reaches into his right jacket pocket. I can't yet see what's in his hand, but I know what it is. He moves both shoulders up and down slowly like he's about to lift something heavy. He turns smoothly, points the gun at the back of the pale-brown guy's head and pulls the trigger. The sound is muted. There's no blood at first. His head is slumped forward, eyes open. His body goes limp and sinks down in the couch a little. The strung-out guy that was sitting next to him doesn't move an inch. He's staring directly at me. His eyes are open wide and very dark. I think that this must be what true fear looks like. In those few seconds, I study him deeply. Joe points the gun toward strung-out guy and pulls the trigger. There's almost no sound. Lots more blood this time. Strung-out guy is still alive and struggling to breathe, blood pouring from his mouth and neck. He's slumped back and limp, arms lying at his sides with palms up. His eyes look dead but I can see he's taking lots of short, fast breaths. For a second I consider that he might be playing dead and trying to steady his breathing.
Joe motions for me to stand. I do. He points at the pale-brown guy first and then to the strung-out guy. I know what he wants. I consider my options. Maybe I can play dumb. Or maybe I can shoot Joe, hit the front door and find a phone. There's a 7-11 on every corner in this city. There has to be one close by. A lot of them are police sub stations. Strung-out guy might survive this. I am snapped back by Joe clapping his hands together. The sound is muted, a lot like the gun. I reach into my pockets and pull out the gun and the cylinder. I look at the gun in Joe's hand and realize that the cylinder is a silencer. I think about how careful he is. I think about how he must have prepared for every situation. He must have thought, "What if this pussy turns on me?" He has something planned that I couldn't figure out if I had an eternity to analyze. I have never seen a silencer in real life before. I notice it has threads on the end. I push it onto the barrel and screw it on tightly. I am calm. I'm not scared. No burning chest and no panic in my stomach. I consider lifting my shoulders like Joe did. My mind is past the situation and I'm wondering how I should hold the gun - how I should stand? One hand or two? Do I need to close one eye and aim? Where's the safety? I notice a little switch near the trigger. I assume he gave it to me with the safety on. It clicks softly. I stand with feet together, one arm at my side and raise the gun toward strung-out guy. He's breathing even faster now. Should I blink now? I guess so. I blink a few times. That seemed right. I pull the trigger twice, point it at the pale-brown guy and pull it two more. I unscrew the silencer because I don't know what else to do. A tiny little wisp of smoke comes out of the silencer and I put it and the gun back into their respective pockets. Strung-out guy is no longer breathing and pale-brown guy is even more dead than he was before. I try not to look at them but I can't help it. I want to get close and examine the wounds. I want to know what I've just done. I want to see it now so I can suffer with it forever. I take a few steps toward them; my shoe touches one of theirs. I bend down a bit. I'm not scared. I'm not sad or anxious or full of guilt or disgusted or excited. I'm not anything. I think about this nothing I feel and then compare it to the true fear I saw in strung-out guy before Joe shot him.
Joe clears his throat and grabs my shoulder. I stand up and follow him out the back door. No fire escape, just another set of steps leading down. There's a car parked in the alley with someone I've never seen before in the driver's seat. He gets out, Joe gives him the keys to the other car and he walks past me and toward the front of the building. We get in this new car and drive to a house on the other side of the city. We go around back and wait in a garage. An older looking woman comes out, talks to Joe a bit and leaves. She comes back with a few trash bags. Joe tells me to put the gun in one bag and take off everything else and put it in the other. I do it without hesitating. The woman stands there and watches me as I undress, smiling. Joe tells me to stay and follows the woman inside. 10 or 15 minutes later he comes out, fully dressed. His hair is wet and he doesn't smell like fat, dirty hooker ass any more. I follow him inside and to a bathroom. He tells me to scrub everything like I was just dipped in shit. I get in the shower and make it as hot as I can physically stand. There's no curtain and the woman stands in the bathroom holding a towel, watching me shower. She makes me feel uncomfortable.
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Chapter 2
I sat in the living room with her two kids watching cartoons. She and Joe were in the other room. I notice when he comes back that the fat, dirty, hooker-ass smell is back as well. I'd located the source apparently. He waves at the kids and starts walking out of the room. I just assume I'm supposed to follow. As we pass through the kitchen, he grabs a small bag from the table. When we get outside the unknown driver from before is back, with yet another vehicle. Again, Joe gives him his keys and we leave in the newest car. The trip home was quiet for the most part. Joe argued with himself about something someone said on a political, talk radio show. As I get out of the car, he stops me and digs the bag out from under his seat. He smiles as he hands it to me. There's no one in the house but me and my girlfriend. The quiet is relaxing as I sit down at the kitchen table and open the bag. Inside there's $1200 and another smaller, heavier bag that has the gun in it and a note that says simply, "it’s clean.”
I realize that this is the same gun from before and my entire body is on fire. My vision blurs. I feel dizzy and nauseous. I can barely breathe and I'm completely convinced the world is coming to an end right now, right at this table in my mother’s kitchen. I imagine the gun exploding like a huge nuclear bomb. I imagine Earth from space. Half of it is a giant black crater and the other half is covered in brown clouds. I am so overwhelmed by this that I gag; I wretch, but nothing comes out. I think that this must be what dying is like. Then I think about what pale-brown guy and strung-out guy must have felt before they died. Strangely, this thought calms me. I spend what feels like hours thinking about the life they had before Joe and I intervened. I imagine birth, childhood, high school, broken relationships, and bad decisions. I imagine all the pairs of shoes they had bought and worn. I think about all the places they've lived and how many light switches each must have touched. I am exhausted. I stuff the money in my pocket and think about what I'm going to do with this gun. I consider killing myself with it. I wonder if it’s still loaded; it isn’t. So, I decide to take it outside and bury it.
I walk around the outside of the house several times wondering what the fuck I'm going to do. Why the fuck did he give me this thing? Is this supposed to be a gift? I remember that there were rabbits living under our front porch. I push the snow away and squeeze through the gap between the porch and the wall. It extends far back under the house. I spend an hour crawling in. It’s so tight under there I can only wiggle, moving centimeters at a time. Eventually, I'm toward the middle and under what I guess to be the top left corner of the living room; almost the dead center of the house. I wasn't smart enough to bring any sort of digging tool so I start clawing at the frozen dirt. I jab it a bit with the butt of the gun. It’s another hour at least until I've got a hole that’s the entire length of my arm deep and only slightly wider. I push the gun down inside, replace the dirt and then make my way out. After I'm in the house and showered, I realize that it’s dark out. I was up murdering people I had no conflict with before sunrise and burying the evidence after sunset. I opened by bedroom door and before the weight of it all could crush me my girlfriend was bouncing towards me.
"So how much did you get?” She didn't ask how my day was or what took me so long or how I was feeling. She didn't even hug me. She wanted to know if I'd gotten her money. I handed her a wad of cash and she gasped. My Princess was happy so I was happy. Her eyes got wider and her smile got bigger as she counted. Up past $800 and she was literally jumping up and down. At $1000, she looked happy and almost exhausted. She finished counting.
"One-thousand two-hundred!" After hearing it out loud, she looked almost disappointed. "You can get more right?" She starts planning things; moving vans, furniture, and a new TV. I feel sick but I smile because she is smiling. I want to ask her what we need a moving van for when the sum of our entire belongings are in this tiny room. I don't because she's my Princess. She was happy and I didn't want to spoil that. I stand there for a bit while she rushes around the room moving things, packing them, unpacking them, and repacking. I lie down on the bed and fall asleep with the light on and her buzzing around. I'm normally an extremely light sleeper but that night, I think I could have slept through the end of the world. I slept longer and more deeply than I had since I could remember.
I woke up feeling rested, but anxious. I dreamt, but I couldn't remember any of it. Princess is up, writing furiously in a notebook. When she sees that I'm awake she continues our conversation from where it left off last night. I piss and check the house. They're still gone. I tell her it’s safe and I go back downstairs and sit on the couch in the living room. I look for something on TV; I can't remember the last time I've been able to do this. As I flip through, the color goes in and out. I pass a news channel and see the word "homicide." I flip back and almost immediately the color and sound disappear.
I had totally forgotten everything that happened yesterday. I remember that I'd buried the gun right below the TV. This is God getting revenge. He knows what I did and after years of silence he's awake and ready to fucking smite me. Again, I feel like I'm dying. It’s all over. My ears are ringing and all I can hear is a deep, beating hum. I finally understand what Poe meant in The Tell-Tale Heart. I imagine the house burning down around me. All that is left are the frames and me, still sitting on the couch. I feel the house collapsing in on itself and being swallowed by the tiny little cave the gun now lives in. On the TV there’s a close-up of the reporter’s face with a graphic of police tape floating next to her head. As I watch, I realize that this is the proof I've always asked for. God is real. I decide that I'm going to go to Church from now on. Prison isn't an option. It’s the Church or death. I will devote my life to religion. I think about what celibacy will be like. Will the seminary take me? I imagine aging as a priest; praying every day dutifully, shaking hands with old ladies and community leaders. The reporter’s face is gone and they're showing video of a building I'd never seen before with police tape around it. I am instantly relieved. There are a few more shots of the building and the sound comes back. A child was murdered by her mother a few counties over. Over the next few months I follow the news religiously. I check the papers every day. No mention of my old man with the Evil-Eye. There’s no way I can live with this. I have to do something. And fuck, I almost joined the Church.
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Chapter 3
I pretend to be a lion; but I am weak. I am a wheezing, limping kitten in a room full of hungry dogs. My actions are well thought out, only because I'm unable to be reactive. I'm too exhausted for instinct. I pretend it's "mind over matter". I pretend everything is slow motion and I'm completely in control. As we leave the car, Joe elbows me and points. Sitting on the stoop are two younger looking guys and a girl. They're huddled close together; its mid-January and still quite cold out. When they see us, their faces change. One guy shifts his legs as though he's preparing to run. I start to nudge Joe but I see that he's already shaking his head. It's dark out but the stoop is well lit. In my mind, I'm counting windows, looking for exits, measuring distances. I remind myself to never be caught off guard again. Joe stops at the base of the stoop and I continue up past the group and stand a few paces behind them. They are surrounded by me, Joe, a wall and a narrow passageway between the buildings. The girl glances back at me and whispers something to the guy next to her. They're aware of the situation as well. Joe speaks and I think about what I'm here for. My pockets are empty, that's a good sign. I measure myself against the group. I'm barely eating, sleeping even less. To them, I probably look like the least physical threat, but, if Joe brought me, I must have something. I assume that they assume I have a weapon. If they think I'm capable of killing them, they're going to treat me as a greater threat. I imagine my sickly kitten eating from the corpse of a dog. I imagine the other dogs backing away slowly at the sight of their dead brother. Then I imagine the dogs tearing the sickly kitten apart in a rage.
I see the girl has taken her hands out of her pockets and scooted away from the others. She's pointed herself toward the space between the buildings. One guy is leaning forward toward Joe and the other has both legs stretched out, arms pushing against the steps. I already know what's going to happen. I look at Joe but he seems caught up in whatever he's saying. I move to the right a few steps. When he stands up his left shoulder is going to be pointing toward me. So, naturally his first step will be with his left foot. This means his approach will be angled toward my right side. I give myself a little more space to shift to the left. I start thinking about football, someone jumping hurdles, Olympians, high-dives, fuck. I shake my head and concentrate on the situation.
I imagine my sickly kitten being infected with something and rotting the dogs from the inside. I see the first guy charge Joe, who is so enthralled by his own bullshit he barely notices. I lean forward a bit, preparing myself. The girl takes off toward the gap; I don't try to stop her. The second guy stands, turns and charges me just like I knew he would. I focus on him and shift myself left just as he's going to ram me. He hits the wall and stumbles. Almost immediately he's back on his feet and swinging. His fist lands solidly on my chest and for a minute I think my heart has stopped. Through all my careful analysis and planning I never thought to take my hands out of my pockets. It's cold and my arms are stiff. I wrestle my hands out of my pockets and swing hard at his face, one hand at a time. Both land and there's a sharp smack. Fuck, that probably hurt me more than it hurt him. He looks surprised, so I continue swinging, altering the trajectory only slightly as he stumbles. I keep swinging as he falls. His head is bobbing back and forth like one of those little tear shaped bags that boxers pound on in the movies. I can feel my mind wandering, so I grunt loudly and steady myself. I continue swinging for a few more seconds. My arms are buzzing. With every movement my bones are screaming. I stand over him, letting my arms hang. God, I hope he doesn't get up. I wonder if my arms will even move. I try to flex my elbow and my body answers with a sharp pain that shoots from my wrist, all the way through my arm and down my back. It's quiet behind me where Joe and the other guy should be. I decide not to turn around. The guy on the ground in front of me is not moving and he's making a soft snoring noise. I kneel down and look at his face closely. There's relatively little blood. A gash on the bridge of his nose is bleeding lightly. His face looks extremely red, but his neck is a pale white.
I am so exhausted. I want to lie down next to him and fall asleep. I study him. His ear seems oddly off center. His eyes are open slightly, but all I can see is white. His mouth and brow are scrunched up in a grimace. I imagine that he's stuck that way for life. I imagine his girlfriend confessing her love and him answering her with that grimace. I see a nurse putting his first born in his arms and her first image of her father is this angry, pained face. I imagine it staying with her for her entire life. She grows up feeling like a failure because every report card, every reward, every accomplishment is met with that expression. A loud siren brings me back. I open my eyes and I'm inches from his face. The sound is overwhelming. This is what war sounds like. I stand up quickly and check the sky for bombs, planes, anything. I plug my ears hard but the sound is already gone. I stay that way for a few seconds, just to make sure. When I unplug my ears I can hear Joe yelling. He's standing in almost the exact same spot as before. The other guy is gone.
"What the fuck was that sound?" I ask as I walk down the stairs.
"Its 10. Curfew."
"What the fuck does that have to do with anything?"
"They use the tornado siren to call curfew. Just get in the fucking car." We drive for at least 10 minutes before Joe speaks. "Is that guy dead?"
"What? What guy?" I'd forgotten everything that just happened and was fixated on the siren. "Oh. I don't think so."
"It doesn't matter anyway. I'll be back for their asses later."
I looked at him and he was smiling. He stayed like that for a long time. I knew exactly what he was thinking. I was thinking the same thing.
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Chapter 4
I wake up more rested than I have been in a long time. My sleep is dreamless and deep. It's late in the afternoon but I have nothing to do until after dark. Jobs with Joe are a regular thing now. I have more money than I can spend. While my friends are mowing lawns and collecting soda cans for extra cash , I am beating and murdering strangers. And I'm starting to like it. At the end of the day my entire body aches. It's a good ache though. I feel like I've accomplished something. I know the things I've done are morally, ethically and legally wrong. But these are bad people I'm hurting, right? They got into this knowing the dangers. I expect someday Joe will show up at my door with something in his pockets for me. I certainly won't be panicked or surprised or scared like these people. I know exactly what I have coming and I deserve every bit of it. I imagine Joe's bullet ripping through the back of my head and nestling in my brain. I imagine the sudden calm it will bring. I start to ask myself how that justifies my actions when Princess wakes up smiling and answers for me. "Good morning Princess"
"Hey!" Who wakes up this happy? "What time is it?"
"We've got a couple hours before we can officially move in. Relax."
A high pitched squeal rips through the silence. I clamp my hands onto my ears. I see planes and bombs and war again. I'm having someone else's flashbacks.
"I can't believe it! I'm so tired of being in this little room." I realize the noise is coming out of Princess and quickly put my hands down. Her eyes are still closed. She didn't see me. Thank god. It's too early for that conversation.
Fuck it. "Let's get showered and dressed. We can grab some food before we meet the building manager."
I stand with my back toward the door while she showers. Every time I hear a little thud or creak I grab the knob and push hard against the door. I am so focused on guarding that I hardly notice her at first. Her humming breaks my focus. She's so amazing. Her hair is a dark blond, but gets lighter in the sunlight. Her eyes open and close as she rinses the soap from her face. They are a clear blue and they sparkle when she looks my direction. She's standing where we first met.
..........................
Just a few months previous, I was very different. Around this time, they refused to be nothing less than glamorous addicts. "Getting high" wasn't just a routine; It was a ritual. They partied and sang and danced. The entire house was a cloud of smoke. One couple sat in a chair in the living room, completely naked and quietly fucking. A few were sleeping, despite all the noise. My mom floated around the room, tagging random people and laughing. I lock all the doors and windows and head upstairs to bed. I stuff some clothes under the door and bury my head in a pillow.
Soon, I'm sleeping. I dream about a room that has floor like a giant meat grinder. The entire room is made of immaculate chrome. One wall has a narrow, dark window; this is where they watch. Across from that is a door with a tiny window near the top. Inside this room, kneeling in the middle of the floor is a woman, sobbing and whispering prayers. I stand outside the room in dirty white coveralls. Next to me is a large switch. I sigh and pull it down. It snaps against itself and somewhere a large motor clicks on. Inside the room, the blades begin moving slowly. She stands and backs into a corner, trying to climb the walls. Soon, the floor is at full speed. Her feet dance against it, then dull limbs. She never screams or cries. She barely even fights. After awhile, she is gone. I flip the switch back up and the floor hums to a stop. I pull a plastic bag from my back pocket and open the door. I gather the pieces of her, admiring the beauty in every part.
I wake up gasping for air. There's something tight around my neck. I try to reach up to pull it away but I can't move my arms. There's a bright light and I'm completely blinded. I fight as hard as I can. Something hard smashes my face. I can breathe again. The bright light dims and as everything is coming back into focus, I can see something smashing down onto my face again. For a second, I'm stunned. I want to move, my brain is telling my body to move, but it won't listen. I hear a frenzied conversation. I calm myself and lay there quietly. I recite the first ten digits of Pi in my head until they leave. I hear one stumble out, then the other. I stay perfectly still, but open my eyes. When they've adjusted to the dark, I look around slowly. The table with my clock and lamp are knocked over and my door is open. I get up, get dressed and cautiously head downstairs. The party is still in full force. I head to the kitchen and open the fridge. Inside are hundreds of bottles of pills. I grab one and take a handful of whatever is inside. I decide I want to die, or at the least, pass out in my bed. Halfway up the stairs it hits me. My entire body is tingling. My vision tunnels, narrows and focuses at random. I can barely stand. I crawl the rest of the way up the stairs. I feel like I'm going to puke, so I head to the bathroom. I'm already regretting this. I turn the shower on and lay down in the tub, still fully clothed.
The water is blood and chocolate and tears. My wet clothes feel far heavier than they are. They're tightening around my body like a snake. My skin develops bumps that pulse and burst. I clamp my eyes shut and grind my teeth together. I remind myself that they're just hallucinations. Suddenly, I'm weak. I'm so tired. I open my eyes and see the dark creeping into my peripheral. It's getting closer and closer to the center of my vision, threatening to swallow it completely. I want to get up and run, but my body won't listen. The last bit of my vision goes dark. I can hear the water, I must still be alive. I let my head fall to the side. I'm fucked, no reason to struggle now.
I open my eyes a bit and see a triangle of yellow light stretch across the floor. The door is open completely now and the room is glowing. In front of me are legs. They seem small and feminine. I try to look up at her but my head wont move. She walks across the room slowly and steps into the tub. I feel her kneeling down, her legs on either side of mine. She grabs my head with both hands and tilts my face up toward hers. The water spilling over her shoulders makes her look like an angel. I consider this. Maybe I am dead and she's here for me. She looks concerned, but not frightened. She leans forward and kisses me. My body tingles again and I try to touch her face. My arm makes it halfway before I can't hold it up any more. She smiles and kisses me again. She stays with me the rest of the night. When I can finally speak again I say, "Hi." She just laughs. Eventually , I am able to stand. She helps me up and we go to my room. I lie down on the floor, still soaking wet. She helps me undress. I'm freezing. I can feel my entire body shaking. She's on top of me now, pressing herself against me. I can feel that she's very warm and very naked. I suddenly feel much better. She laughs again.
"I knew you were alive." she says.
.....................
Lost in the memory, I forget that I'm guarding the door. I hear three quick footsteps and the door bursts open. My stepfather is standing there, beer in one hand and dick in the other.
"Get the fuck out." The quiet rage in my own voices startles me. He smiles, takes a drink from his beer and licks his lips.
"What the fuck are you two doing in here?"
"Get the fuck out." I have never felt this angry. I have a thousands thoughts of murder. There is so much pain I want to show him. My body is calm , but my mind is screaming. I imagine peeling the skin off his arms while he watches. I imagine sticking a knife in his chest and watching him suffocate.
"I have to piss."
"Piss somewhere else."
He stands there for a moment staring at me. I am radiating anger. I can see him weighing his options. He sets the beer on the sink and leaves the room, closing the door behind him. I put my back against the door and close my eyes, trying to regain my calm. When I open them, Princess is looking at me.
"Are you OK?" I ask.
She looks worried. "I'm fine."
I stand up and walk over to her. I reach out to give her a hug. She flinches at first, then relaxes and hugs me back. "I'm sorry sweetie."
"It's OK." Her voice wavers a bit. She looks to be on the verge of crying. I put my head down and hand her a towel. The excitement from before is gone. She is quiet for the rest of the day.
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(1 comment | comment on this)
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3:54 am
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| Wednesday, June 20th, 2007
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10:06 pm - Lizz is Awesome
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Hmm... This is definitely Mark. And I say Lizz's swimsuit definitely matches! Like, it's amazing how well it matches. And also, Lizz is the least boring person I know. And I love her much. *worships Lizz*
current mood:  Worshippy of Lizz
current music: Carebear Soundtrack
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(1 comment | comment on this)
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4:10 pm - EEEEEEEEEEEEEK
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| Saturday, June 16th, 2007
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3:55 pm - 10/22/07 <- deadline
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Lizz has a 4 month deadline to try gambino's cake. If she doesn't try it within the specified time period, she will be disowned. Also, if she tries it and doesn't like it, she will also be disowned. If she tries it and likes it, like any human being would, said disowning will not occur.
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(1 comment | comment on this)
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2:26 pm - Update!
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| Wednesday, May 30th, 2007
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2:47 am - Sew...
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I'm thinking about heading down either this saturday, sunday, or monday. I'll just need to find a place to stay.
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(1 comment | comment on this)
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| Wednesday, May 23rd, 2007
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1:53 am
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Advanced Global Personality Test Results | Take Free Advanced Global Personality Testpersonality tests by similarminds.comStability results were very high which suggests you are extremely relaxed, calm, secure, and optimistic. Orderliness results were moderately high which suggests you are, at times, overly organized, reliable, neat, and hard working at the expense of flexibility, efficiency, spontaneity, and fun. Extraversion results were low which suggests you are very reclusive, quiet, unassertive, and secretive. trait snapshot: introverted, secretive, reclusive, tough, non social, observer, fearless, solitary, libertarian, detached, does not like to lead, outsider, abides the rules, mind over heart, good at saving money, does not like to stand out, does not make friends easily, self sufficient, not aggressive, likes the unknown, unconcerned with external opinion, strong, abstract, independent, very intellectual, analytical, high self control
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(1 comment | comment on this)
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1:42 am
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RCUEN
not easily hurt, does not need things to add up perfectly, keeps emotions under control, spends more time in solitary activities than group activities, when ending an association - tends to stop all communication without explanation, does not readily admit mistakes, underachiever, not known for generosity, level emotions, does not care what people think, does not fit in, more logical than abstract, does not value tradition, uninterested in leadership, not impressionable, not prone to envy, values money over acceptance, not open about feelings, unproductive, values solitude, not very happy, pessimistic, plain appearance, inflexible, won't do much to avoid rejection, not afraid of doing the wrong thing, underachiever, does not accept people as they are, unable to stand up for self, slow to forgive, not that interested in others, does not care about image, not prone to giving compliments, rarely prepared, quiet around strangers, does not like touchy feely people, avoids responsibilities, avoids difficult reading material, rarely reinvents self, does not like to lead, not prone to worrying
my primary type...
Calm
not easily hurt, rarely if ever loses temper, keeps emotions under control, positive, not prone to envy, rarely sick, self reliant, trusting, stable, sturdy, optimistic, fits in most places, not defensive, likes change, if they were to live life over again they would not change much, content (possibly over content), believes in choice more than fate, good at building things, good at taking advice, does not make enemies, good at fixing things, admits it when they make a mistake, gets along with others, has more desire than fear, motivated, self confident, believes the benefits of freedom outweight then benefits of attachment
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(comment on this)
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| Saturday, May 12th, 2007
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2:57 am - poker rawkz0rs my sawkz0rs
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| Wednesday, May 9th, 2007
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7:36 pm - Mark's Movie Madness!
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So, recently I had the displeasure of watching a couple of the worst movies I've ever seen. I'm talking, of course, about Spiderman 3 and Epic Movie. A bit of a warning before I get into it: there are spoilers, so if you actually want to watch either of those movies (God forbid), don't read ahead. Otherwise please, do read on.
First off, I was actually looking forward to Spiderman 3. I'd liked the previous two and thought that this one would at least be up to par. I was wrong. Very, very wrong. It may just be me, but I'm pretty sure that movies are supposed to open with something at least semi-interesting. You know, something to grab the viewer's attention for at least 10 seconds. I don't think the beginning is supposed to make someone want to leave, immediately. The first 6 minutes (yes, I counted) were so boring that I felt like bludgeoning my head against the wall, repeatedly. I mean, come on, the opening 'scene' is just some names with clips from the OLD MOVIES pasted in there. Yes, that's right, they didn't even spend enough effort to make up something new. As if that wasn't bad enough, they made spiderman into a whiny little bitch, and actually tried to make it look like kirsten dunst has a semblance of talent, which she doesn't.
Here's an interesting fact: the only, and I mean only, good thing the movie had going for it was its special effects. So, that point aside, let's get into some details. The plot was kind of ridiculous. Apparently, the man who murdered spidey's uncle wasn't that two-bit crook we were so graciously led to believe. No, that would be too convenient. Instead, they stuck in some random guy, who later becomes Sandman (bitchin effects with him), who is spidey's uncle's real murderer. Get this, he was stealing shit so that he could help his daughter, or something like that. I'm not sure, however, because I sort of lost concentration at around this part. I can only stand so much torture at a time.
Here's another interesting fact: toby maguire makes an extremely lame badass. When the alien venom stuff was taking him over, the way that the director tried to make him look like a badass was to turn him into an emu. Yes, that's right, an emu. Instead of parting his hair like usual, he just let (half of) his bangs hang down onto his forehead. Then, get this, they put EYE-LINER ON HIM. Yes, eye-liner. If that doesn't say "I'm, lyke, sew tawtally badass! teehee!", I don't know what does. But it may just be me, but emus are, under no circumstances, bad and/or ass-like in any way, shape or form. I'd go on even more about this shitty movie, but I don't want to spend the effort ripping it a new one. It does that all by itself.
Now onto the second movie, Epic Movie. I've said this before and I'll say it again, Spiderman 3 was funnier than Epic Movie will ever be. Sure, that may not be intentional, but damn it all, it's funnier. I'm sure this has been said over and over again, but Epic Movie is the absolute worst (multi-million dollar budget) movie ever made. They tried to cram so many pop culture (and some not so pop culture) references into every single minute that I felt sick to my stomach. Yes, this movie literally made me feel sick to my stomach. Despite this, I find myself wanting to laugh at parts of it. I don't, but I kind of want to. Not enough to make me grin or chuckle or anything like that, but enough to think to myself, "was that supposed to be funny? Meh. I guess so, but it's not really that funny at all."
Just as an example of my earlier point, I'll list how many pop culture references they were able to stick into a single scene. Chronicles of Narnia, Scarface, Cribs, P Diddy, and last but not least, every rap music video ever made. That's all within three minutes. I'd explain the rest, but I'm getting a headache just thinking about it. Just suffice it to say that Epic Movie is like a small, very concentrated ball of feces. That is to say, anyone with even a hint of a sense of humor hate it with a passion that can only be reserved for, well, something that requires a vast reserve of passion and/or hate. I know that my words can't really do the crappiness of this movie any justice, but I sure as hell tried my best.
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