I've memorised the patterns of your face,
the creasing twitches your mouth makes.
The way your hair sticks out on end,
Your slouch to wear a backpack.
The crinkle of your nose when you concentrate,
how the backs of your arms are perfectly straight.
The difference between your real smile and the one caught on camera,
the way you hide your perfect teeth.
How a single piano note mimics your voice,
singing for as long as you can hold it.
Prettier than hansom,
You're flawless, just out of a ziplock bag.
An early morning drug in your bloodstream
erases oxidized pennies under your skin.
I know the bridge of your nose, the space between your eyes,
nesting places for discouraged fingertips.
The way your spine bends at the top for the things that count,
your delicately cantilevered shoulders
giving away your mind.
Oblivious to the world around you.
Let me take a word picture of you, before it's too late.
Sandwich you between memory foam,
preserving your shapely bone structure.
Stains and formaldehyde reached for off of shelves.
Your skinny arms that are too long,
Narrow hips that sway for any melody.
The things you cheer for that you don't care about.
If we put them end to end, tell me the surface area of your apathy.
How carefully did you chose your ringtone,
to perfectly match your flannel shirt?
Buttons done up to the one that's missing,
you pick at loose threads, regretting holes you have yet to make.
Write a monologue for your own entertainment.
Other's compositions are pretty,
but give no comfort
when you’re surviving off an IV drip.
You know the sound of the words you need to hear,
whispering them to yourself when you're alone,
wearing them like an inside out sweater.
Hiding good ideas beneath your uncombed hair.
Distract yourself at a museum.
The oil paintings depicting ancient lives
hang on nails falling out of disintegrating plaster.
Wonder of the people never painted.
You let the milk at the corner of your mouth dry,
shutting the door behind you
because you weren’t expecting come back this way again.
saloon shutters swishing under attractively feminine palms.
Slender with a pelt of checks and stripes,
a spot or two inlaid on your baby face.
Hugs and teddybears lower their voices
to speak softly about siblings.
Quiet cots lie in close clusters
on tables and the ground.
Thin military surplus stores project documentaries
of what it's like to be with you.
Pressed hard to the back of high speed comfy seats
accelerating like amusement park rides.
Uttering a cry for help,
arms reach, waving.
I called your name out through the quiet crowd.
Eyes widened, turning,
hostile basketball jerseys stared
As I said my last words.
"Nevermind"
Bad posture and skinny arms
recite treaties written by irrelevants.
Vestigial memory tricks in three ring binders
mnemonics click and chatter.
Clean your palette of what's edible,
chew on tinfoil and sharks.
Adept teeth pointing backwards
towards your stomach.
Carrying ice cream sandwiches in your backpack
along with detonation codes
for bombs that don't belong to you,
melted dairy making scraps of paper sticky.
Novel scientific concepts
pill in the lining of your back pockets,
folded carelessly underneath a wad of bus tickets.
You’re becoming a miserable businessman.
Run amok with me, I may be slow,
but my sense of direction is much better.
You’re too manly to use maps,
adorably stereotypical in your square blue car.
I’m going on an adventure, won't you join me?
covertly adjust your swim trunks
to hide spilt soy sauce,
spend today smelling salty.
Take the stairs two at a time.
elegantly lean too far backwards,
plus a nudge to send you spilling off the banister.
Grab at the air with those musician fingers.
One, two, three elitists, what a sight.
Pursing your lips to draw silent judgements,
squinting your eyes and crinkling your nose,
cock your head in the mirror.
If you ever invite me to your house,
I promise I’ll look in every room.
Read your books over your shoulder,
try to understand you more.
Origins
written and directed
by
David Walker
Inspired
by
the films of
Quentin Tarantino
David Lynch
&
Rob Zombie
There is method
To his madness
January 2013
first draft
1. EXT. Run down project apartment complex - 3:00 am
A dark, tall figure with long black hair and a trenchcoat opens the already cracked red door.
MAN:
I'm looking for love in all the wrong places.
CUT TO:
INT. Apartment 3
A typical roach infested apartment with a kitchen built into the living room. 3 GIRLS are on the kitchen floor. GIRL # 1 one has black hair with big lips and a curvy frame and she is wearing a pair of Tripp pants and a black bra barely covering her ample bosom. She has a flesh colored rubber hose tied to her left arm. GIRL # 2 has dyed rainbow colored hair, a nice smile, and a skinny frame. She is wearing a pair of tore blue jeans with smiley faces and cute in jokes written on them, also not wearing a shirt with a lacy blue bra on. She has a spoon with water and black tar heroin inside it which she is heating up with a silver Zippo with the word "Skittles" engraved into it. GIRL # 3 Has long naturally red hair, glasses and an extremely voluptuous figure. She is wearing tight black pants and a black shirt with thin sleeves. She is inspecting a covered syringe with an unsure look in her eyes.
GIRL # 2:
So, do you wanna do it or not Jane?
Snatches the syringe out of JANE's hand.
JANE:
I'm not sure. How long have you been doing this shit?
Girl #2 takes the orange cap off the syringe revealing a small needle.
GIRL #2:
Since after I graduated. About 3 years. Liz you ready?
LIZ:
As ready as I am for dat sweet tang!
Girl #2 giggles. She sticks the needle into Liz's arm, blood mixes with the brown fluid inside, and she pushes the plunger down. Liz leans back into Girl #2's arms and Girl #2 gives her a kiss.
LIZ:
I love you, Julia.
JULIA:
Well, I love you too.
JANE:
You guys are so gay!
(OS):
Save that shit for the fucking customers!
CUT TO:
Other side of room. A greasy looking MAN with short faded black hair and a scar going from the corner of his mouth to the right ear is sitting in a beat up recliner cleaning his Uberti 1873 Cattleman revolver while smoking a fat blunt and watching some kind of high budget porn with Sasha Grey in it.
JULIA:
Sorry, Mike. It didn't stop you from leaving me and Liz unsatisfied and bored, did it?
LIZ and JULIA laugh. JANE has a nervous look in her eyes.
MIKE:
Very fucking funny you wore out trick! Am I gonna have to smack the sass out yo mouth?
MIKE gets up, puts out his blunt and walks over to the GIRLS gun in hand.
MIKE:
Or am I gonna have to give your little friend a scar like mine.
LIZ:
Mike don't!
MIKE SLAPS JULIA with the side of his UNLOADED revolver and grabs JANE by her hair.
MIKE:
Who the fuck are you, anyways bitch?
JANE:
(stuttering)
I was walking down the street earlier today and I ran into Julia and Liz. They went to school with my sister I think. Let me go!
MIKE:
So you're a young'n. Well you have some nice big titties!
MIKE RIPS off her shirt exposing her breasts. He begins to squeeze the right one. JANE SLAPS MIKE HARD!
MIKE:
Bitch!
MIKE lets go of her hair. Jane runs to the other room grabbing her shirt. LIZ stumbles towards him and PUNCHES him in the nose.
MIKE:
That's it! You little cum dumpsters are dead!
MIKE picks up the REVOLVER, runs to the chair where the bullets are and tries to reload. JULIA wakes from her daze. We see him load 3 rounds. All of a sudden the DOOR gets broken down and the dark clad FIGURE from the scene before pulls out a BERETTA M9 with a silencer attachment. MIKE FIRES 2 shots at him haphazardly missing both. The MAN LAUGHS and FIRES one shot that MIKE's crotch catches.
CUT TO:
2. INT. Next door in Apartment 2.
A MAN and WOMAN in their early 40's are smoking a joint and seem disturbed by the gunfire.
MAN:
(coughing)
What the hell was that?
WOMAN:
Sounded like gunshots. Do you think we should call the cops?
MAN:
Fuck no! There is a pound of chronic in the bedroom closet! Just pray whoever it is doesn't come over here!
WOMAN:
Okay. Are you gonna pass that?
CUT TO:
3. INT. Apartment 3.
The smoke has cleared. MIKE is begging for death and BLEEDING out everywhere, JULIA is in a daze, dumbfounded by what she just witnessed, LIZ is cowering in fear, crying, and JANE just came out of the bedroom with her TORN SHIRT on and a terrified "Oh my God" expression. The unknown assailant has a devilish grin upon his face.
MIKE:
Godfuck! Kill me you sunuvabitch! Godda--
The MAN obliges. He fires a single shot into his RIGHT EYE.
MAN:
Well, looks like I got here in the nick of time!
JULIA:
(blankly)
W-Who the fuck are you?
MAN:
That is of little importance right now. Who are you foxy ladies?
JULIA:
M-My name's Julia. That girl over there (points to Liz) is Liz, and the ginger is Jane.
MAN:
What pretty names! Well, I have a question. Will you three lovely young ladies gather round that despicable looking chair and listen to what I have to say, or are you going to run? Keep in mind I have rope in my trenchcoat and the fact I mean you no harm. I am just a lonely man with a story to tell, and the way I see it, what with that bruise on your sweet face, you kinda owe me.
JULIA:
I think we can stay. I just wanna know your name.
MAN:
Ahh, but I am a man of many names. My christian name is Derek. You don't need the last for now.
DEREK walks to the chair and sits down. He waves the GIRLS over.
DEREK:
C'mon I just want to tell my tale. Look, I will put the gun under the chair as a sign of good faith that neither you girls or I will start shooting the place up again. Are we square ladies?
JULIA:
What do ya say guys?
They gather in the kitchen.
LIZ:
This guy has a screw loose.
JULIA:
Yes, but he saved us from our pimp. We should humor him.
JANE:
I think he is hot!
LIZ and JULIA just stare at JANE.
JANE:
Sorry, but he is.
JULIA:
So it's agreed. We will listen to his story, silently pray he doesn't rape us and leave afterwards.
The GIRLS walk to the chair. DEREK has lit the blunt.
DEREK:
Ahh, so you have decided to join me. Good. Do you guys wanna hit this?
LIZ and JULIA shake their heads no.
JANE:
I will.
DEREK:
Great. Now, where do I begin. I suppose everybody's roots stem from childhood, so lets go back, oh say, 20 years ago.
FADE TO BLACK
Against black, TITLE CARD
October 15th 1995.
CUT TO
4. EXT. Suburbia circa 1995.
There are three boys between the ages of 6 and 9 playing in front of a grey HOUSE with a white MINIVAN in the driveway. Little DEREK is a scrawny 6 year old boy with short brown hair and a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles action figure in his hands. The 2 other BOYS ages 7 and 9 are picking on him and trying to take away DONATELLO.
DEREK:
Leave me alone or I will whoop your butt.
BOY #1:
Whatever! You are scrawny and lame. Give us your Ninja Turtle now or we will beat you up!
BOY #2 picks up a STICK and starts hitting DEREK with it.
BOY #2:
What are you going to do? Get your daddy? Oh, wait...that's right, you don't have one!
The 2 BULLIES start laughing. A look of hatred fills young DEREK's eyes. He catches the STICK and slaps BOY #2 in the face with it. He then tackles him and starts beating him mercilessly. BOY #1 runs towards the PORCH and knocks on the DOOR. DEREK'S MOM answers. She is in her mid 30's with brown hair and casual clothing on, smoking a cigarette and drinking a cup of "coffee."
BOY #2:
Derek's beating up Josh again!
DEREK'S MOM:
Well, good for him! Bet that little pecker snot deserved it too. Now, Brad...why don't you take you and your friend on home before I tell your dad you play with Barbies.
LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
My mother was a sweet ol' broad!
BRAD:
(sighs)
Okay, Ms. Walters, but you do know you are going to have to pull him offa Josh right?
DEREK'S MOM:
(sighs like Brad)
I suppose.
DEREK'S MOM and BRAD walk to the front yard and GASP when they notice that DEREK has knocked out 2 of JOSH'S baby teeth, both in the front and broke his nose, which is bleeding profusely.
DEREK'S MOM:
Derek Charles Walters! Get the fuck up offa him!
DEREK:
(crying)
He hit me with a stick!
DEREK'S MOM:
Well, now I'm about to!
She picks up the STICK and beats his ass with it several times.
DEREK:
Fuck you bitch!
DEREK'S MOM, infuriated throws the stick down and SLAPS him across the face. DEREK runs away.
He runs to a wooded area in the back yard as far as his legs can take him.
LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
Do not weep, for on that day, I met God and Satan incarnate and it turns out they existed singularly in my head.
CUT TO:
5. JANE:
Like a conscience?
DEREK:
Much more. These guys are in the room right now and only I can see him. Satan led me to you guys tonight! Who knows what kind of CRAZY hijinks are in store!
JULIA:
That's it I'm outta here! C'mon gu--
DEREK fires of his M9 1 time.
DEREK:
Now, listen to me you dykey, junkie whore. I have 3 more rounds in this motherfucker and one
of them is reserved for you if you don't sit your tight ass back down.
JULIA sits back down scared to death. DEREK regains his composure and is "all smiles" again.
DEREK:
Phew! I don't want to hurt anybody. I just want someone pretty to listen to my fucking story. Fuck, if you want, I will ask you guys about yourself later on, but for now I'm going to introduce you to my best friends.
JANE:
Who are they again?
DEREK:
Ah, you were trying to pay attention. I will remember that. They go by many names. One can be called "God", "Heroic Harry", "The White Knight", whatever you envision as good, this mofo is it. He is the reason you guys are still alive.
LIZ:
And the other?
DEREK:
Ahh, him. He can go by "Satan", "The Rapist", "The Angel of Death." He's the reason ol' crusty here no longer bothers you.
LIZ:
So you're basically ape shit, right?
DEREK:
Pretty much! Now where was I? Ah...yes
CUT TO:
6. INT. Small wooded area behind the house --- Early evening.
DEREK has made himself a nice little HANGOUT in the woods! there is a trunk with tons of comics in it, an arsenal of sharpened sticks and rocks, Batman action figures, and a Game Boy Color. He is drawing a picture at the moment.
LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
There I was in my element. Pissed at my mother, then all of a sudden, a deep, angelic voice rang out.
VOICE #1:
(OS...of course)
You don't have to hate her, you know. She loves you.
LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
And then another, this voice sounding more playful and mischievous then the other.
VOICE #2:
(OS)
But, for how long? Do you think she meant to have you?
DEREK:
Where are you guys?
LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
And then they appeared.
A 13 YEAR OLD BOY with BROWN hair and a FLANNEL overshirt over a Nirvana T-SHIRT with baggy torn blue JEANS with stains on them appears.
BOY #1:
Don't hate your mom.
VOICE #2:
(OS)
But, watch her close.
DEREK turns his head. We see another BOY roughly the same age with slightly long BLACK hair and a TRENCHCOAT over a Nine Inch Nails T-SHIRT with tight black CHICK PANTS with a CHAIN leading from his pocket to his BELT. He has a lip piercing and he is smoking a cigarette.
DEREK:
Who are you guys?
BOY #1:
Just think of us as older brothers your mom can't see.
DEREK:
Wow! I should introduce you guys to my friends!
BOY #2:
No!
DEREK:
Why not?
BOY #2:
You are the only person that can see us. Don't go telling anyone and don't talk to us in front of anyone. People will think you are nuts!
BOY #1:
Think of us as two ghosts that give you advice. Don't listen to him though, he'll get you in trouble.
BOY #2:
Shut up! Or I will kick your ass again.
BOY #1:
Not in front of him. He doesn't need to see that shit. Not now
DEREK:
What are your names?
BOY #1:
That's up to you.
DEREK:
I'll call you Joe, and him Jerry.
JOE:
Works for me, for now. Call us whatever you feel like calling us whenever you like. If you wanna call me butthole and him poophead, go right ahead.
DEREK:
Okay, but for now you guys are Joe and Jerry.
JOE:
We are going to leave now. We will show up when we think the time is right. Sometimes you will see us others you won't, but we are always with you.
JERRY:
Even when you poop.
CUT TO:
7. INT. Apartment 3.
LATE 20'S DEREK:
And then I went back home and they disappeared. I reconciled with my mom and for the next few weeks I didn't see them. Brad started hanging out with me again and school was good. The years go by and still no sight of them. 4 years pass by. It's 1999 and my tastes changed. Instead of Ninja Turtles and Batman it was KISS and Freddy Krueger. By this point me and Josh had made up and Brad was in middle school. And so we go to where me and the voices meet again.
8. INT. Taft Elementary
A class of roughly 25 children in your average 5th grade home room with a stout middle aged gentleman teaching. JOSH and DEREK are in the back row sitting side by side.
TEACHER:
...And that's how the metric system works.
JOSH:
(to Derek)
Dude, did you check out RAW last night? The Undertaker crucified Stone Cold!
DEREK:
Fuck I missed it. I was doing homework.
JOSH:
(loud)
Shit!!
TEACHER:
What did you say Mr. Jarvis?
JOSH:
Sorry Mr. Cannib. I forgot to do my homework.
MR. CANNIB:
Josh, Derek, outside!
LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
The old man had taken kids out of the classroom before and they always came back with tears in their eyes. As we walked outside I heard a familiar voice.
JERRY:
(OS)
If he touches either of you, kick him in the nuts!
MR. CANNIB:
I told you boys too many times! None of this shit in my classroom! Josh get over here you little prick!
OL' TEACH GRABS JOSH by the NECK.
DEREK:
Hey motherfucker keep your hands to yourself!
CANNIB begins to throttle JOSH. DEREK pushes him off of JOSH and KICKS the TEACHER in the nuts with FURY about 3 times and jumps on top of him while JOSH watches holding his neck.
JERRY:
(OS) While we see Derek's mouth moving
Look here, mother fucker. You think you can be called a teacher for drinking on a farm, fucking cattle and beating children so you can have Summer vacation every year? Fuck you, you spiteful sad man.
DEREK SPITS in the BASTARD'S face and begins to PUNCH him when JOSH pulls him off.
JOSH:
Dude, the door outta here is right there. Lets go to our lockers, get our shit and get outta here.
DEREK:
(Breathing heavily)
Did I just do that? What the fuck? Let's get out of here...now!
CUT TO:
9. EXT. Taft Elementary
A bunch of playground equipment next to an alley with a fenced in field. JOSH and DEREK are walking down the alley. It is sunny outside but about to rain.
DEREK:
That wasn't me that did that.
JOSH:
If it wasn't you who was it?
DEREK:
It w...
JOSH:
(Interrupting)
It really doesn't matter who it was. You got us out of school forever man.
DEREK:
You think so?
JOSH:
We are getting paid, yo.
CUT TO
10. INT. Chillipaqua City Courthouse
The JUDGE bangs his gavel. JOSH and DEREK are seen smiling and pointing at CANNIB while he is on the stand while LATE 20'S DEREK narrates.
LATE 20'S DEREK:
(OS)
And so we did. That incident pulled the liberal media's heartstrings. My mother may have been a bitch, but she was a crafty bitch. We settled in court on a 100,000 dollar payment to both mine and Josh's families.And the fucker of this whole situation was fired and arrested the next week for bestiality and had quite the collection of kiddie porn in his closet!
CUT TO:
11.EXT. A small farm on the edge of town.
MR. CANNIB is pantsless with a goat. We see the cherries and berries come blazing by. Cut to him crying as he is being handcuffed.
CUT TO:
12.INT. Apt 3.
DEREK:
So you guys aren't goat fuckers are you? After all you seem pretty wild.
JULIA:
No.
JANE:
Hell no.
LIZ:
One time I was wearing a skirt and it was a very hot day, and my dog Rufflestiltskin licked my snatch.
JANE, JULIA AND DEREK look on in disgust.
LIZ:
What? I told him to stop.
DEREK:
That's just nasty. Another question and then on to the story again. How old are you girls? This Jane girl looks awfully young.
LIZ:
Me and Julia are 21. I think Jane is 18.
DEREK:
Ahh. Well that's good. The feeling I'm having in my pants looking at you 3 is "okay" then I guess.
JANE:
You make me moist.
LIZ and JULIA look on in TERROR. JANE puts her hand on DEREK'S crotch. DEREK slaps it away.
DEREK:
Hey now! Not right yet you little fucking minx. I have a story to continue.
JANE:
(Disappointed)
Fine.
DEREK:
And so the years pass and our young hero, (ha, me) had grown older and the voices just wouldn't stop after his little incident with his pal the goat fucker. As he grew the voices grew with him. Derek started to become depressed and jaded with the world. He had gotten taller, a bit chubbier, and more handsome. And he had fallen in love. Problem is she was John's girlfriend...and so we find young bespectacled Derek: awkward teenager.
13. INT. Derek's room.
The room is a bit messy. There is an XBOX underneath a small SONY TV. A Micheal Myers poster hangs above his bed. There are blue curtains covering his window. His closet is open and there is a projector and several 35 mm films in there. There is a boom box with a Weezer CD case lying next to it. The Blue album. Derek is on his PC while Only in Dreams is playing in the background. On his computer there are pictures of vile death and pornography. And all of a sudden there is a knock on his door.
DEREK'S MOM:
Boy, you better not be a whacking it!
DEREK:
Goddammit, mom! I will whack it if I feel like it!
DEREK'S MOM:
Well you better put that thing away if you are because there is a girl here to see you! Some girl named Cherise...isn't that Josh's girlfriend?
DEREK:
Oh, fuck! Um...send her in!
CHERISE walks in. She is around 2 years younger than DEREK, very tall as far as girls go, with long blonde hair, skinny yet she has a donk on her. She wears glasses and has braces. Kinda nerdy looking. DEREK has a nervous expression on his face.
CHERISE:
Hi Derek!
DEREK:
Um, hi. What are you doing here.
CHERISE:
Well, 2 reasons. First one is, could I borrow your Bleach CD? That's the only Nirvana album I haven't heard. If I were 20 years older I would have married Kurt instead of that Courtney Love bitch!
DEREK:
I totally understand. Um, yeah it's in my closet underneath my reel of Eraserhead. Let me get it for you.
DEREK walks to his closet and starts rummaging through his shit.
CHERISE:
Second reason is...well, um I'm trying to break up with Josh...
DEREK drops his projector on his foot.
DEREK:
Ow, fuck!
CHERISE:
and I don't know how to go about it. Do you have any ideas?
DEREK seems flustered.
DEREK:
Why...I mean you guys make a great couple.
CHERISE:
But, he is always angry at me if I don't see things his way.
DEREK:
I don't know why he would ever get mad at you. You are so great.
CHERISE:
Well, I did cheat on him with Eric.
DEREK:
That fat fuck?!
DEREK looks disgusted.
CHERISE:
It's like he knows how to respect a woman. Like you...but I could never be with you. You are...too...good.
DEREK:
Good? Like how?
CHERISE:
Like...I don't want to be the one to...ya know...take IT. You need a sweet girl to do that.
DEREK:
But, you are the sweetest girl I know!
Tears well up in DEREK'S eyes. JERRY appears.
Jerry:
Tell her to leave.
DEREK:
I think you should leave.
CHERISE:
I'm sorr--
DEREK:
Leave!
CHERISE looks pissed.
CHERISE:
Fine then you fat loser!
CHERISE leaves. DEREK runs out the door.
DEREK:
Keep fucking drug addicts and losers, ya fucking cunt! Who was the last one? The creepy 30 year old? Keep spreading your legs and you will end up with a little fucker and a man in prison! You're 14 act like it!
DEREK sits down at the desk with anger in his eyes. He reaches in one of the drawers. We see in the drawer there is lotion, paper towels and loosely rolled joints. He pulls out the lotion. DEREK gets on www.stileproject.com and clicks on the most recent link, the Pamela Anderson sex tape which despite being made public nearly a decade ago has finally been linked to Stile Project. DEREK pulls down his pants and starts jerking his wang.
DEREK:
You fucking cunt! You will be mine one day!
We cut to behind DEREK and JERRY is controlling DEREK'S arm.
JERRY:
You see what Tommy Lee is doing with his dick? You will be doing that to Cherise soon enough. Wait...you will convince her. She wants that dick. She just doesn't know it yet.
DEREK cums and takes his shirt and wraps it over his dick to wipe up. What he doesn't get with his shirt he LICKS off of his hand. JERRY looks upon the sad sight that is DEREK licking up his semen.
JERRY:
We will bring her to you. Me and Joe.
CUT TO:
14. Maple Orchard.
DEREK walks down the street to JOSH'S house. JOSH'S house is basically a carbon copy of DEREK'S. There is a green LINCOLN parked in the driveway. DEREK knocks on the window.
JOSH:
Dude, what the fuck? Why the fuck are you waking me up?
DEREK:
It's 4:00 pm, mothafucka! Wake your fat, white ass up and smoke a blunt! I got money lets run out of town to the White Castle!
JOSH:
Fuck, man...give me a few to wake up. My mom will let you in. My Jew dad is at work right now so you're cool.
DEREK walks in.
JOSH'S mom opens the door.
JOSH'S MOM:
Ahh, Derek. Your little middle school friends not aloud to hang out?
DEREK:
Just let me in Melanie.
CUT TO:
15. INT. Josh's house.
DEREK sits down in the house which has an enormous living room and a really big T.V. in it in front of a neatly kept couch.
DEREK:
Hurry the fuck up in there Josh! It doesn't take that long to shit and get changed. I'm starving! Mom hasn't had food in the fridge for a week!
MELANIE:
Why can't your mom afford food for you? You guys have thousands of dollars! How come you can't have food?
DEREK:
Melanie, dear...mother of my best of friends. My mom is a dirty cunt!
MELANIE:
I knew there was a reason I didn't like her.
JOSH comes out of the bathroom.
JOSH:
Fuck, lets go man. I have the new Outkast CD in the stereo. Andre 3000 is a fucking madman!
CUT TO:
16. INT. Josh's Lincoln.
Leather seats, faux wood paneling, a Pioneer CD player, and a little rubber fetus hanging from the rear view mirror. The car cigarette lighter is being used to light a blunt and "Roses" is playing in the background.
JOSH:
Did you watch Chappelle's Show last night?
DEREK:
No man, I'm glued to my computer. Maybe one day when I can watch Comedy Central on my computer I will watch it.
JOSH:
(In a high pitched voice)
A re re visited my work today!
DEREK:
(Laughing maniacally while coughing.)
Oh, really?
JOSH:
(In normal voice)
And not just ANY retard...the king retard!
DEREK:
(gasps)
You are fucking with me. Was...Corky at Olive Garden?
JOSH:
(In high pitched voice again)
Yes!
DEREK:
You are fucking with me.
JOSH:
Seriously dude.
DEREK drops the blunt.
DEREK:
Oh shit!
JOSH slaps DEREK in the back of his head until he picks it up.
JOSH:
Pick it up, brown eye!
DEREK:
Now fuck off, with that shit! I got it.
JOSH:
Give it to me, then.
JOE:
(OS)
Let it slide. Enjoy the marijuana and keep your eyes on the road.
DEREK hits the blunt super hard until he starts coughing up spit on himself. JOSH yanks it out of his hand.
JOSH:
You also need to quit making this thing run with your strong ass lungs.
DEREK:
(Coughing still)
What about Corky?
JOSH:
(Laughs hysterically)
Oh, so you want to hear about mirth and merriment Corky gave me? Well allow me to elaborate.
JOSH hits the blunt 3 times and passes it.
JOSH:
(Exhales followed by a tiny cough.)
Well ol' Corky was sitting at a table that I had to serve. My buddy Jeff was serving a table behind him filled with Hasidic Jews. Like you know how there is Eugene Levy and just slightly higher than that there is my Jewy dad? Well these guys were probably 10 times higher on the Jewometer. Like rabbi's or something. Real Jews, my nig. Well I come up to the table where our favorite retard, Corky is sitting and Corky says to his "handlers" (in full blown tard voice) "Gee, those guys have curly hair...and cool frisbee's on their heads"
DEREK fucking loses it!
JOSH:
You gonna pass that?
DEREK passes the blunt laughing like the deranged bastard he is.
JOSH:
Well, the poor tard said it really loud. So his "handlers" do their best job of telling him a brief history of Judaism while I am taking the orders. As I walk away I hear them mutter something about Haunakah. I go and place the order, by the time I get back with their food, they have finally gotten to the holocaust. Now, I think all he heard, like myself was the beginning and end of the whole conversation. So Corky sees me coming back with his fettucine alfredo gets really happy and breaks into song. Do you want to hear it.
DEREK:
More than I want those jalapeno sliders.
JOSH:
(In the best tard voice ever)
HAUNAKAH HOLOCAUST 8 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS THAT'S RELLY COOL DER'S THE JEW GUYS WIT DER JEW CURLS BUT WATCH OUT FOR DA HITLER HES A BAD BAD MAN HES GONNA GETCHYA WITH HIS EVIL SWASTIKA! HAUNAKAH HOLOCAUST
And he just kept on repeating it over and over. The Jews got pissed and didn't tip Jeff. I distinctly heard one of them saying something about a wood shed and someone beating him way too hard.
DEREK is laughing himself to tears and out of breath.
DEREK:
This couldn't have happened.
JOSH:
That's because it didn't! Ha ha ha!
JOSH pulls up to WHITE CASTLE.
JOSH:
So do we agree on a sack o six each?
DEREK:
Yeah, and a Hawaiian Punch...biggest cup they have.
JOSH:
Yeah that sounds good.
JOSH pulls up to the speaker.
JOSH:
2 jalapeno sacks o 6 and 2 extremely large Hawaiian Punch's.
SPEAKER:
(female voice)
Anything else?
DEREK:
Your number!
JOSH punches DEREK in the arm.
DEREK:
Fuckin' cocksmith!
SPEAKER:
Excuse me?
JOSH:
Don't mind him. He's a virgin.
DEREK has rage in his eyes. He PUNCHES JOSH in his nads.
JOSH:
Wait until we get out of the car, motherfucker.
JOSH pulls up to the window. They see a raven haired goddess with black horn rimmed glasses taking orders.
BANGIN' WHITE CASTLE EMPLOYEE:
That will be 10.99.
DEREK is stunned.
DEREK:
(whispering)
Oh, no...you are fucked when we get out of this car.
They get their sacks o 6 and start eating them on the way home.
CUT TO:
17. INT. Josh's Lincoln/Ext. Josh's driveway.
JOSH:
Lets get out of the car.
DEREK:
One minute...
DEREK pulls out a peach WHITE OWL and half a sack that roughly took 20 dollars and persuasion to obtain.
DEREK:
We need to talk.
JOSH eases his way back into the car.
JOSH:
About what?
DEREK:
Cherise.
JOSH:
Goddammit, what now Derek? Is it still the ol' I saw her first routine? Or do you still think she's in love with you?
DEREK looks hurt, but shrugs it off.
DEREK:
No...sit down and roll this blunt.
DEREK hands JOSH the weed and SHELL.
DEREK:
Now, Josh. Listen to me...Cherise is a fickle bitch. She is also a slut...A 13 year old slut. You are going to be a senior next year...I am going to let you roll the blunt and light it before I tell you. So in the meantime...
DEREK reaches for a CD in the visor sleeve. He pulls out WEEZER'S "Green Album" and plays "Hash Pipe."
DEREK:
(to the tune of the song)
Get that blunt rolled, get that blunt rolled, get that blunt rolled. I can understand why you look so pissed. You know somethings wrong, that somethings amiss. I know that you don't care, but I want you to know, that your girl Cherise is kind of a ho! Oh...come on and roll that...oh...come on and roll that. Oh...this bitch is a problem, she rubs it at night. Oh...you roll that blunt so...we need no hash pipe. DUNDUNDUNDUNDUNDUNDUN
JOSH:
Shut the fuck up, here!
JOSH lights it and passes it to DEREK. DEREK hits it.
DEREK:
So, ol braceface was talking to me. She told me she was thinking about dumping you...something about he doesn't treat me right...he gets angry when things don't go his way.
JOSH looks angry.
JOSH:
And I'm supposed to believe you?
DEREK:
You're a big boy, you can decide for yourself. She's gonna leave you man.
JOSH PUNCHES DEREK in the FACE!
JOSH:
I don't fucking believe you, you son of a bitch!
JERRY:
(OS)
NOW!
DEREK gets out of the car.
DEREK:
C'mon old friend, don't let some stank ass pussy get between us. Now why don't you come on out of the car and give me a hug?
JOSH LEAPS out of the car. He tackles the shit out of DEREK.
DEREK:
Now that's more like it!
DEREK knees JOSH in the BALLS HARD!
JOSH:
(winded)
I will kill you!
DEREK:
Maybe you should give her a call. I'm going home.
DEREK turns around and starts walking. JOSH RUNS at him and hits him in the back of the head.
DEREK:
Now, goddammit man that hurt! Chill the fuck out, man. Bros 'fore hoes!
DEREK has a devious smile on his face.
DEREK:
You should think really fucking hard about what you said about killing me today. I have a screw loose motherfucker! Now, if you want to fight, there are better places. We need to go somewhere else with this. An unbiased environment. I tell you what, we can have a fight at the ballpark in Yolentangee park tomorrow if you are still butthurt.
JOSH calms a bit.
JOSH:
Then it's settled. We will fight tomorrow in the ballpark.
DEREK:
Fine then. I am going home now. Maybe you can chill te fuck out tomorrow so you won't be so easy to whoop.
DEREK turns around and goes home. JOSH is yelling obscenities while crying at the same time.
CUT TO:
18. INT Derek's room.
DEREK is at the computer having freshly gotten his nut watching BANGBROS for 2 hours. We see him pulling up his pants. He looks in the drawer at his desk and pulls out a knife. 2 figures appear. One is dressed head to toe in black with a lip piercing and long black hair. The other has shaggy brown hair and a beard with khakis on and a tie dye t shirt. We recognize them as JOE and JERRY.
JOE:
Put it away.
JERRY:
You need that knife. Do you think he won't put up a fight?
JOE:
Put it away!!
DEREK slices his wrist. Blood comes shimmering down his fore arm. He runs into his mothers bedroom and blacks out. This is all shown from DEREK'S P.O.V.
19. Hospital room.
As his eyes open he is in a hospital bed. There are nurses asking him questions he doesn't understand. He sees the needle in his arm and rips it out. He lunges at one of the nurses.
DEREK:
(Screaming)
Wanna taste!!!???? I wanna taste of you! Lemme see dat ass!
OLDER DEREK:
(OS)
I had decided to ignore these thoughts, but the thought of having these thoughts didn't have me thinking clearly!
20. INT. Apt. 3
JULIA and LIZ are frightened. JANE has her cell phone out. DEREK leans over JANE.
DEREK:
What are you doing?
JANE:
Why, telling everyone on facebook how ----
DEREK grabs her cell phone and THROWS it through the WINDOW.
DEREK:
Now listen here, bitch. No one needs to know of me or the predicament you three are in. If I see any of you texting or using your phones then you will be shot. Consider this your only warning.
JANE actually looks terrified for once and hangs her head in disappointment like she is sad she disappointed DEREK.
DEREK:
Now where was I? Ah, yes. My stay in the looney bin as a spry, yet unwilling teen.
LIZ:
Wait...what happened with Josh?
DEREK:
All in due time, my stoned and buxom friend.
21. INT. The Looney Bin.
There are pastel colored walls and a room full of stumbling wrecks. Teenage boys and girls on Ritalin and Valium. There is a tv in the middle of the room and magazines and colored pencils strewn about. One boy catches the cameras eye.
OLDER DEREK:
(OS)
I met this fellow named Trevor in there, he was a half white, half dark boy with a bushy fro. Couldn't have been much younger than I. I struck up a friendship with him. He is very quiet and says crazy shit when he does speak.
16 year old DEREK:
If you give me your meds I will give you mine.
JERRY:
Have fun.
22. GROUP TIME AT THE LOONEY BIN!
All the schizoid wrecks of human beings converse about how hard their lives have been, all the while Trevor has a strange look in his eyes.
COUNSELOR:
So what makes you happy, Trevor?
TREVOR:
Rape and violence.
COUNSELOR:
(Raises eyebrow)
What was that?
TREVOR:
(Rather quietly)
Peace and silence.
COUNSELOR:
(sarcastically)
Oh, really?
TREVOR:
You must have misread me.
COUNSELFUCK writes on his notepad.
23. Same Looney Bin Place Different Looney Bin Time.
INT. DEREK and TREVOR'S room
DEREK is sleeping.
TREVOR is trying to pick the lock of the window with a paperclip and a plastic knife.
DEREK awakens.
DEREK:
I've been up for 3 days, and I (yelling) FINALLY GOT THE FUCK TO SLEEP! what THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?
TREVOR:
I'm trying to get the fuck out of here!
DEREK:
Dude! Why? It's fucking awesome here! There is a sterile living environment, hot milfy nurses, television, 3 squares and a snack, plus you fucking know you aren't the craziest mofo in here! Everyone in here is either whoring or shooting smack! There is no such thing as a "troubled teen" anymore. That shit died in the 90's when they realized it was all the trip drugs their mothers did when they were pregnant. This is a new generation sir! It's 2005! You have at least 5 years to go before life is shitty for you, don't speed it up.
TREVOR:
They know I'm not taking my meds.
DEREK:
Well fuck, lets just switch back our meds! I don't need to speed like this, the voices won't fucking stop!
TREVOR:
Okay, maybe we will get out of here sooner and I will stop acting like a sociopath.
DEREK:
That's the ticket, m'boy!
24. On the outside.
DEREK:
You got a cigarette?
TREVOR:
No. I don't smoke.
DEREK:
Well, fuck! What good are you then?
DEREK pulls out a HEATER cigarette. They heat your throat with a 100% tobacco aroma. He lights it.
DEREK:
You know what? I could use a guy like you in my corner when the voices start acting up again.
TREVOR:
What do you mean?
DEREK:
(Takes a long drag off his Heater)
You could tell me what not to do. Keep me cool. Jerry is a swift bastard, he is!
TREVOR:
Who the fuck is Jerry?
DEREK:
In due time you will find out. Jerry likes you though. Joe likes you too. They never agree on anything, which means you are cool. Just keep your head when things go awry.
TREVOR:
What the fuck are you on?
DEREK:
(flicks his cigarette)
Life and everything in it!
DEREK's car pulls up. It's JOSH in his Lincoln.
JOSH:
Dammit fuck brain, you were right!
DEREK:
I fucking told you!
DEREK acknowledges TREVOR.
DEREK:
This is my childhood pal Josh.
TREVOR:
Hey.
JOSH:
What kind of crazy are you?
TREVOR:
Not his kind, I assure you.
DEREK gets in the car.
DEREK:
I will see you around, man. I got work to do!
JOSH speeds out of the parking lot.
CUT TO:
25. INT. APT. 3
JULIA:
So that's it? That's how you guys made up?
DEREK:
Well, I did make a phone call to him the previous day.
CUT TO:
26, Nuthouse the day before
DEREK picks up the phone.
DEREK:
Hey, man. You still mad?
JOSH:
(On the phone)
Nope. You were right. Dumb cunt left me for a 20 year old.
DEREK:
Kids these days, eh? I have a situation. I am inside the institute for the criminally insane and I need you to give me a ride out of here.
JOSH:
Why are you in there for?
DEREK:
My arms. Threatening nurses. Depression.
JOSH:
Goddammit you big fucking emo! I will be there soon.
CUT TO:
27. INT. Apt. 3
JULIA:
Ah, makes sense.
JANE:
So, you had a rough time in your teenage years, didn't ya?
DEREK:
The rough times didn't even begin yet...eh...
DEREK looks over at LIZ who looks to be passed out.
DEREK:
Julia...is she dead?
JULIA shakes her. LIZ throws up
LIZ:
Sh...smack.
JULIA:
She's fine.
DEREK:
Well, wake her ass up!
JULIA:
I can't she is uber stoned.
DEREK:
I can wake her up.
DEREK takes off his trenchcoat and unzips his pants. He pulls down her pants revealing a plump, perfect ass. He turns her over and starts fucking her hard. JANE looks extremely jealous.
DEREK:
Wake up. bitch!
LIZ starts to wake up, but doesn't tell him to stop. She moans uncontrollably.
LIZ:
Harder!
By this point both JANE and JULIA are masturbating and they start eating each other out. DEREK is going so hard LIZ' tit pops out. He pulls out and sticks his dick in LIZ' beautiful mouth, choking her on his cock.
LIZ:
(choking and slurping)
DEREK:
Taste that cock! You're next Julia!
JULIA stops eating JANE. Her eyes widen and her jaw drops. DEREK pulls out of LIZ' mouth and cums all over her face. DEREK slaps her and spits on her face.
DEREK:
Stay awake!
night walks
the cat
with her
Cheshire cat's
smile join
the crescent
moon in the
sovereign eyes
of the Moors
He was told to ‘Step Up and Join Up!’
So Ralph Wainwright the Three,
Mailed his application,
With attached application fee.
He put his uniform on, and got in the plane.
And flew overseas,
Ralph Wainwright the Three.
Arriving at camp,
He was a little put out,
With every one calling him Ralf,
And so to keep his position,
In the bourgeoisie,
He became Rafe Wainwright the Three.
On the first day of battle,
With dastardly Uzoks,
Rafe was taken their prisoner.
The blindfold ripped off,
To reveal that he was,
Slammed between two wooden stocks.
“I’ll do anything! I’ll join you!”
Said Rafe Wainwright the Three,
And thus his name changed,
to Rafe Wainwright Zukkee,
Zukkee, of course, meaning enemy soldier,
And Rafe Wainwright being his name,
He was thrust into battle,
With his pocket knife,
And a wooden sword, aflame.
Fire acting on wooden swords as it does,
And seeing as how he was dressed,
He was caught by his country and tied to a tree,
“You lousy, traitorous pest!”
“By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be dead!”
And with that they cut off his worldweary head.
He was given to the Uzoks,
And buried Uzok Park.
They planted his headstone,
Just before dark.
‘Tzate’ meaning warrior,
And ‘Mit’ meaning great,
His name is forever:
Rafe Zukee Mitzate.
for my Aunt Shirley
.....……………………………………….
Fervis F. Ferville
Of South Street, North West
Could count, count, count, count
With incredible zest!
He was a very good counter,
And he would not hesitate!
For he would get up real early,
And he would stay up real late
Counting everything that could
Be owned by a Mouse,
As long as it could fit
In a little Mouse House.
And with his Shadow as Witness,
He would begin every day
Counting each little grain
Of his Bucklewheat Hay.
He would sound out each number.
That’s just what he’d do!
And he would always begin
All of his counting with “Two.”
He would count every minute
On the clock on his wall.
He then counted the hours,
The Seconds, and all
Of the in-between moments
That we never admit
Have a smidgen of good
Honest counting in it.
He then climbed very carefully
On his ABC blocks,
And counted each button
Safely tucked in its box,
Which came right to twenty-one,
All quite safe and sound.
The Greatest Button Collection
That a Mouse ever found.
Then he counted his fingers,
And he counted his toes,
His counting-type eyes,
And his counting-type nose.
He counted his ears,
And he counted his knees
And he smiled with pride,
For Fervis was pleased.
He had counted two eyes,
And one counting-type nose.
He had counted two knees,
And two stringy elbows.
He had counted two ears
That hung over his head.
And he counted the stripes
On his little Mouse bed.
He had counted each whisker,
And every brow of his eye.
And then he turned his attention
To his french fry supply.
There were twenty-two long ones,
And thirty-four short ones,
Ten busted-up ones
And eighteen athwart ones.
And there were his books,
Lots of books on a shelf
That he hid,
For he wanted them
All to himself.
With his vast and unique
Set of Counting-Mouse Skills,
And the speed and agility
Of trained Whippoorwills
He counted and counted,
And counted them all,
Every book he could find,
Every book that he saw.
All the big ones
And small ones,
The fat
And the tall ones,
Every green one
And blue one
Each old and
Each new one.
He counted his Nickets,
He counted his Nukks,
He counted every one
Of his Poppletoff Pucks.
He counted his ear lobes,
Then counted his keys,
And recounted every one
Of his ones, twos and threes.
He counted with such
A fine skill and finesse
That he proudly turned his attention
To Checkers and Chess
And he counted each Rook,
Every Bishop and Queen,
Every foul little Knight
That tormented his King.
Every Pawn en Passant,
Every possible move,
Oh, he counted them all
If only to prove
That he, as a Mouse,
Could indeed hold his own
When it came to a fine
Game of Chess in his home.
The very next thing
He would count were his socks.
He took great care of them.
So he unlocked all the locks
On his Secret Sock-Drawer,
And he counted each Two.
Then he seemed rather puzzled
When he was finally through.
For yesterday’s count
Came to Thirty-Eight pair.
Which meant that one pair was missing!
Yes, Missing! But where?
Now, this called for a re-count,
Something a Counting-Type Mouse
Does all of the time
In his little Mouse House.
So, Fervis F. Ferville,
In his perfect Mouse timing,
Counted and re-counted
Without even rhyming!
The Two and the Four
And the Six and the Eight!
He counted each sock
Until it seemed rather late.
Then he sighed as he sat
In his little Mouse chair.
And he took a deep breath
With a haunt of despair.
And he thought:
“Counting-Type Mouses
Never lose track of socks.
They never forget their neckties
Or popcicle blocks.
They do not misplace their Hourglass,
Or lose track of the time.
And Counting-Type Mouses
Are on time
All the time! ”
He fuddled and fudged,
And scratched at his ear,
Took a deep breath
Just to let his mind clear.
And he spied at his Shadow,
Who had nothing to say,
Who simply shrugged long
In its shadowy way.
So, he counted again,
Very slowly this time,
Sounding each number out,
Every succinct little rhyme.
Every four, every two,
Every ten, every eight.
Every twelve, and each twenty,
Until it was later than late.
“This simply does not make sense, ”
He mumbled to himself.
“Where could they be?
I’ve looked on every shelf.”
He searched through his house,
Very high, then down low,
Every place they could hide,
Every place they could go.
He looked deep in his cupboards,
And inside every jar.
He searched as close as he could,
And then he searched far.
He looked in his freezer,
And then in his hat,
On nights such as this
Mice will do things like that.
He hunted deep in his closet,
And then in every shoe
That he kept always ready
Underneath his canoe.
He searched up the small staircase,
And then down through the vent.
He hunted inside his chimney,
And above the bell tent.
He looked behind every picture
That hung on his wall.
And then he decided
To check behind his baseball.
He searched through his Bob-Bobbers,
And inside his fly sheet.
And, just to be safe,
He looked down at his feet.
And his eyes peered so narrow
He bit down on his lip,
And he twizzled and twozzled
Every single toe tip.
There were his socks,
Safely there, rightly put
As well as can be
On each little Mouse foot.
He hadn’t lost them at all,
And they hadn’t lost him.
They’d been there all the time
Very proper and prim.
And Fervis F. Ferville
Jumped up with a snap,
He sang out a “Woohoo, ”
And he let his toes tap.
He danced with a jig
And a biggillowigg,
Hopping about
With his toes hanging out.
He looked at the clock
That hung high on his wall,
And he stretched out, refreshed,
Like a porcupine ball.
And Fervis F. Ferville adjusted his tie.
And breathed deep the evening air.
"Why-ever have I been so distraught?
This simply does not seem fair."
I have every toe, every ear, every sock.
I have every number that ticks on my clock.
I have every whoo that has ever said hey.
It is a grand and new, wonderful day.
And wonderful days, as the story is said-
Are filled with those numbers that dance off the head,
And tap tap tap wonders of yellow and blue,
Wonders that shimmer much newer than new.
And he smiled so warmly the evening shined,
As though Fervis had one more adventure in mind.
He spied his fine Shadow, on the dash of a whim,
And his top secret Shadow spied right back at him,
And then Fervis F. Ferville so calmly called out,
"I've counted one hundred eleventy-two!
And that's a very fine count, an impressive amount.
I am certain I've counted much higher than you.
But his Shadow just leaned against the far wall,
Unwilling to join in the foray.
Shadows never re-count a good count,
Not when there's still time for Shadows to play.
And Fervis agreed.
For a fine Mouse was he,
Oh, there was so much more
To counting young Fervis could see.
And he smiled a wide smile, fine as any wise Mouse,
And returned to the joys of his little Mouse House.
Copyright © 2010 By Richard D. Remler
.....……………………………………….
'I still find each day too short for
all the thoughts I want to think,
all the walks I want to take,
all the books I want to read,
and all the friends I want to see. '
-John Burroughs
……………………………………………
The moon peaks,
catching the glimmering
snow, the rustling trees
But I long for the cabin,
the cabin up ahead
Kissing the night,
as she would me,
with warm firelight
A small crack offers entrance
and, as in before,
I sit beneath the floorboards
Notes drift through the cracks,
and soft thumps echo down:
the ghosts of dancing feet
I catch them in stride
They show me glimpses,
but only glimpses
To reach, to touch, my
still heart yearns to
join the lonely dancer
But what would she feel?
The slip of one hair?
The chill of silent breath?
The crawl of closed eyes?
No.
Better to stay, sleeping,
beneath the floorboards
With the little rain
wash your sins away
before this weekend,
before you miss the chance.
But still, next week
it won't even stop:
what the cash bought,
'llget us flocking
past the parking lot
down the trail to our
Octopus' Garden 'neath the waves.
Maybe my nails won't grow back
and I'll be talkative instead.
Stop my choking on pocket lint,
bury the bone, unbusy my head.
Everything I do in this Modern World
supports some institution, thus condition.
Looking for passion or just something,
hafta look for what little I believe in—
not this but next weekend.
"There's a stranger in your life,"
a fortune reading tells, then
feeling my legs are useless,
can't kick my way to the surface,
can' kick one habit for a moment,
a car could carry me around then.
It's a five day weekend, no end, yes.
Best birthday bash, hands down, no contest.
Newly arrived old faces join, going to the show;
some more to come soon, some to soon go.
Tonight we revel in our brother's song,
we'll keep the day young and night long.
Tomorrow, we hope to sleep forever in a day,
catch our breaths and try to eat back our strength.
Then, Thursday.
unless you are in love
it will begin to feel silly.
If you want to fall in love
you must bare your heart,
but that predestines nothing.
I do not know, though,
what keeps love in a home,
safe from err; face to heat.
August 12, 1993
This is the third diary I have written in
This diary must be famous
So maybe oneday
Someone will hear or at least read my story
By the way my name is Rebeka
Weird spelling right?
August 13, 1993
Just heard some bad news...
I'm pregnant
I can't believe it
16 years old and pregnant!
The "father" is a dead beat
Ran after I said I might be
I can't keep the child
I don't know what to do
August 15, 1993
I wrote my first poem
One of my friends said it would help
Didn't really
I just wrote and wrote
I almost wrote a book
I wonder what I'm going to do with this child
Aborting it would be painful
Giving it up is almost impossible
Having it is unlikely
I have so much going for me
April 20, 1993
Found out one of my friends loves me
He knows I'm pregnant
He said he would help me
He always has a plan
Maybe I can be happy with him
I don't know
I don't want to bring him down
Diary...what should I do?
April 23, 1993
Still no reply?
I forgot I'm asking an inanimate object
To answer a question
I was forced to ask because of my stupidity
I have poor taste in men
I'm now called distastefully
Rebecca the 16 year old pregnant whore
My boyfriend is really annoyed with it
I hope I can love him as much as he loves me
April 30, 1993
I cut myself
The girls at school keep harrassing me
I can't take this
I forgot how many weeks I am now
I just want this baby out
I don't want it
It's causing to much stress
Diary...help me please
September 18, 1993
I lost you for a while
Can't believe you were right here
Underneath my bed covered by my favorite shirt
That now I can't wear anymore
I look like a cow
School is horrid
I almost beat one of my teachers with a textbook
He called me "Rebecow"
September 21, 1993
I just got dumped by the man I love
He said I didn't love him enough
That I was wieghing him down
I can't believe this
I haven't stopped crying since 12 last night
Why does everything have to go wrong with me?
Am I that broken?
That big of a fuck up?
September 29, 1993
I have just successfully planned my suicide
The title of this diary says "Diary Of Broken Souls"
It should say "Diary Of Suicidal Souls"
I just read the other 402 other entries
That many people...dead...murdered...by cruelty
Might as well join them
My bullshit is just about the same
October 8, 1993
Halloween is just around the corner
And with it comes my death
No more baby
No more mother bitching
No more father crying at the sight of me
Well the tears will be for a different reason now
I'll write my last entry on Halloween
October 31, 1993
Today is the day
Finally coming to an end
I'll kill this baby first
Swallow a shit load of pain killers
Throw in a couple anti-depressants
Noose is tied just perfectly
I have it hanging over the school entry way
A little memorial for the girls at school
All the students actually
Who have called me names
Criticized me for this shit
Well good bye bitches
Sorry Diary you didn't get to know me
I'll be memorialized in these pages
Somebody will know what it's like
To be 16, pregnant, and depressed from all of it
People the world over suffer
They suffer from:
Hard circumstances, warring institutions,
Famine, lack of education,
Drugs and abuse, poverty, the list is endless.
But they are also addicted...addicted to hope.
Hope that things will improve
Hope that their dreams will one day be realized
Hope that what is so hard will finally be a hurtle passed
Hope is their mind's addiction, the fuel for whatever
It is they are striving for
If the temporary satiation of a drug is finally found,
Then their hope for the drug and their hope for the feeling
And their hope for the escape from reality are fueling them.
If they are struggling to make ends meet, to feed themselves,
clothe their children, escape the debt collector, find a place to sleep
Their hope is to not to have to face these same issues
Every day for as many days as they have living.
If suffering from illness, they hope for healing or death
Hope is their addiction when the young children sit in hot, enclosed spaces
Ill, hungry, malnourished, traumatised
Hope for something better, better than what is before them
Hopelessness is acceptance, it is living in the day to day
Knowing what is is, what can't be changed can't be changed
what can be changed for the better,
Well steps towards that then are slowly taken
And the absolute beauty of life, the wonder of these moments
Begin to sparkle and shine in a way that is subtly impressive
Small is sometimes the most beautiful of all
it is solid, it is simple, it is a sturdy brick upon which one can
Always grasp and stand upon...over and over and over
Refreshing and truly adventurous
To see the nature and artifice of the path one is walking
Realizing that each step is a changing landscape
Of environment, perspective, emotion, situation
When one is down they look up with hope, their addiction solidly in place,
To get to the top of the mountain for a finer view
An accomplishment and relief at having succeeded
but the top is always just the pinnacle
And hope to remain affixed in such a perilous place
Is not in actuality possible
Be it a very violent gust that blows you off,
For we all know the wind vortices are something fierce in mountainous terrain,
Or a misstep, a loss of footing as the ground suddenly whithers away,
Perhaps the grasping hands of others trying to join you,
Their hope addiction now at an all-time high because they
Are. Right. There.
Clawing like animals for the last little handhold to hoist themselves up
And in shouldering themselves into a stand,
They accidentally knock you off, or not accidentally perhaps.
Whatever the case, hope addiction swings back into full force
and if it doesn't motivate, it at least satiates the mind
But hope addiction is also deceptive,
It rallies the wild dreams and ignites the heart with delusions
When hopelessness and acceptance and disconnect are a wiser course
For to live on hope addiction alone is not sustaining
It isn't real.
When alternatives and different paths may be wiser, better
To begin walking upon for now
Hope addiction can be misleading, blinding
He beauty of hopelessness is looking then without the hope addiction
At the possibility that this new path, albeit much different from the other
Is only visible up to a few steps ahead
Does it curve? Does it stop? Does it merge further down
With the original path or perhaps another different one?
Hope addiction...I have been addicted to hope
We all have, it is beautiful and it is scary
I live in hopelessness...content, happy, busy, progressing, adventurous, never knowing what little chocolate from the box of life my day is going to taste like.
I must admit though, one a day is not enough to really enjoy a full day...fully.
At 11:11
Make a wish
Say a prayer
At 11:11
Any day
or
Any night
When you see 11:11
On any clock
Join the rest
Of this
Phenomenon
