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
"a canvas, which reflects
sunlight in rays unseen
before submitting itself to a life of color"
Razelle McCarrick
--------------------------------------------------
From memory she painted me,
Tho we had never met.
She painted my biography
On an easel of paper, brushes of pencil,
Exposed, bereft, inexorably delighted
At being dissolved in words that were not mine.
My annotated notes herein ascribed
To her revelations of my secreted stories,
Were written as I gazed upon the multi-blues of
California's beaches, neckline decorated with
Strands of white pearled beaches
Opposite contusions, bruises of
Orange terra cotta roofs, a burnt coral,
Colors that demanded attention, preservation,
Salutations, all hail the penetrating gaze of
Razelle, betrayer and savior.
His moniker was a borrowed line,
Still crazy after all these years,
How could this unknown girl of twenty two
Clear capture, undress me in the poetry of her canvas,
The instant and constant self-examination,
The rapture when transcending the fears
Instilled from birth of how I ought to be,
Which sixty two years on, the wrestling never ends.
Color me flesh nude,
Color me blue bottled,
Red ripped asunder,
The sweetness ascribed to my love poetry,
A subtraction of the bitterness of a failed life.
Colorist of my seams, my woven words,
I am white now, my canvas completed,
Waiting another poet to write over it,
And chaining new words to what was writ.
N.M.L.
-------------------------------------------------------
Razelle McCarrick · Sep 21, 2010
Biography of a Man
Someone wrote a biography of a man. Said he liked to write poetry and spend time in nature. But there are many things its readers will never know about. The streams of thought, the analysis, confusion, the Sadness, sprinkles of joy, the Transcension. A strange man he was..sweetly strange, but strangely bitter. At odds with the halves of himself..or perhaps thirds. But who will know? Someone wrote a biography of a man, but didn't say he was crazy. Or that he had a sharp mathematical mind and tried to add up the components of life to find it wasn't an equation in the first place. It was omitted that he was not merely a man, but of some other kind, often missing his home and his people, though he didn't know who they were. They didn't say when he became deaf, that he still played his favorite songs because he could feel them all the same and see them in colors. And no one knew that he refused to write in pen, but pencil only because one day his work would be rubbed away by the sands of time, just like his body. Someone wrote a biography of a man, but there was no account of what he did on a beautiful day, like the time he sat by a stream pondering his life and rewrote the biography of a man.
A gentle breeze of warmth pushes pleasant,
freakishly normal, but a smack on the water
builds waves that grow older and stronger.
You feel it all soft behind your eyes.
But there is always something missing
that on more cigarette can't fix.
There is always one bird flying
who just can't find the right sticks
to stand on, to launch from, to rise and
fight the world, so he glided circles
as Lady Hurricane approached.
He flew tired, then he flew more.
I opened the door to our house in Connecticut
in the red mist after Sandy and looked up, and
watched him ramble. "The Hawk in the Hurricane."
There he was circling, as if to prove his strength.
And when those boys and girls were murdered in Newtown,
just down the road,
I thought of him
like he was a good thing.
Brave enough stand and be a bad omen.
A crucifix with wings.
Innocent boys and girls are gone now.
Turned into a show we watch on TV.
But that is natural to life in this century,
so there's policy and argument
and my eyes turn back
to my own
endless circle
with an end.
Happiness makes a subtle appearance as just a humble breath,
a deli sandwich, as sun that peaks around the old windows.
And sees me,
invites a squint,
rises,
sets,
and then comes back.
The Weather Channel,
ubiquitous,
Who among us does not have this app,
On their phone, computer, mobile device
Ready for a quick scan..
Odd topic for an essay,
Strange, that your poetic silence
Should be broken this way,
Then again, you didn't inquire,
Or even notice it had gone missing.
Yet the channel of which I write,
Is mobile, and certainly, applies to each of us
But cannot be found on any device but in our hearts..
When we awaken,
The temperature is taken,
A glance upon your visage
Reveals rested or irritable,
Blue clouds or storm warnings,
Better dress appropriately...
But even this is not the forecast
Of which my heart and words speak,,
The whether I need, the thermometer reading,
The barometric pressure that needs knowing,
Measures whether you love me still,
Love me more, love me better,
Than the last poem/day we just wrote/recorded,
Yesterday...
The channels we will yet navigate,
The sky we shall observe,
Cloud shapes to design and designate,
A fortune to prognosticate,
Is the sum f the fortunes/forecasts we create daily.
Our weather is our good fortune,
And strangely the forecast is the same daily,
Whether fair or hurricane,
Whether gladdened or pained,
Our forecast, ours,
Our forecast, unique,
Our forecast, let us record it into reality,
When we awaken entangled,
Looking out the window and envision and
Predict our life-scape.
Does nothing matter?
Is matter nothing but dancing shattered galaxies pushing and shoving each other?
And on Earth, is it worth thinking?
That I'm just a piece of eternal dirt thinking that I'm just a piece of dirt thinking?
We're all just stars, tasting humanity for an instant.
In all its fallacies, we're systems of suns that love murder without resistance.
With the assistance of Christian values and armed pistols.
Harmful as ignorance is blissful, we're still missing the deal.
We're still pissing away the real position to feel. We're still wishing down the same ol' wishing wells
and hoping to Christ they're real.
Worse than guns, it's the waste of freedom -- It's unequal -- to kill the hungry from a distance is still evil.
I fly atomically and everything else is informal.
What's normal? Where's God when things get so awful?
He's epidermal - like an antigermal lotion. A magic potion to nurture the thought that we're important.
We're all just stars, answering a call to be Human.
Let the cold bars that hold the others down remain open till my life is dormant.
And our heads are still cluttered and cloth covered.
Filled with an age-old confusion straight from ol' Mohammed's cupboard.
They fool us with cooked messages from book passages that preach love.
Scare us into being apparatuses of a God above.
That's why society is shattered. It's what's wrong with the world.
The perennial infancy of thought that's forced unto our boys and girls.
Such unclarity, that's baked into our childrens' recipe. It's insanity to think that we don't just turn back into energy.
I'm not religiously inspired to forgive,
nor have the insidious desire to live to inspire religious permittance.
I prefer a future purpose undiscovered.
A death dimension still covered from religions' crazy buffer.
I’ll not get over George,
Alice said, not manage
to get him out of my skin
or memory. Her psychiatrist
said she might. Twat. Her
word. Heard it someplace.
Not sure where. No, George
she misses. Known him for
years, ever since the work
house closed and they were
dumped in some home for
homeless. He was partially
blind, saw badly, spoke in
a jumble of words. But she
was drawn to him; first out
of pity, then deeper out of
love. Possible, her psychiatrist
said, love may help whatever
it is. Arse. Her word. Heard
it somewhere, not sure where.
She kissed George first; then
he kissed her. Each carried the
work house haunting with them.
Young staff at the home for the
homeless, smirked, spoke behind
their hands. George seeing her
poorly imagined her better maybe,
she didn’t care, at least he was
kissing her and he was right there.
Once they almost did it, but
George fumbled and they lost
concentration. And they gave
that up as a bad job. Best not to,
her psychiatrist said. Knob. Her word.
Heard it someplace, not sure where.
Then George died; stiff in bed, his not
hers, heart gave out, the doctor said,
poor Alice, loved mostly, cared much,
all gone, not wed, she alone, missing
George, in her single noisy spring bed.
The absence in the trees
is like a whisper,
and I remember old words that fell
like little leaves.
And tomorrow I hope I will listen
and walk back with you through the
wisdom of your hidden meanings.
Trying to make sense of your leanings
and all I was missing.
Because the absence of you
just leaves me,
and the memories of trees
that we played in as children.
And of parents who always
believed in forgiveness
With a warm glow
around my tired bones,
I feel the chemicals
slowly take effect.
It's ok with me, precious,
if you think I'm ugly.
I'll love you just the same.
My hands knew your skin
before we ever touched lips
because you are missing from me.
It's ok my dear,
if we never live
I'll love you just the same.
It's the honey on your lips
that keeps me on my knees.
AWAKENING
Sleep and slumber, dreams of wonder... weaving,
morning’s vacuum broke the spell
Pitted pillow, note of parting... leaving,
“from your friend, a fond farewell”
Sunrise throbbing, twilight aching... grieving,
daydreams, flashbacks, nightmares knell
Pale phantasms, visions sneaking... thieving,
plot to fill the empty shell
12 DELIRIA
1st Delirium: COLLAPSES
Fractured sky bolts, billows bursting... rumbling,
heavens tighten, turn the vise
Horsemen saddle shafts of lightning... tumbling,
jagged highways must suffice
Ruptured skyways, hailstones crackling... crumbling,
naked pearls of paradise
Toxic tongues of laughter stinging... stumbling,
ocean buckets choked with ice
Droplets drumming, thunder muzzled... mumbling,
washed out whispers pay the price
Smothered blazes, cinders smoking... humbling,
ashes shaped in sacrifice
2nd Delirium: DECENTS
Asphalt alleys, ashen faces... frowning,
blowing bubbles, chewing gum
Drinking ale from tavern tankards... downing,
moonlit beads of painted rum
Stony stars and sea misshapen... drowning,
humble rivers’ rhythms hum
Apparitions aspirating... clowning,
diamonds dying , minstrels strum
Incandescent candles conquered... crowning,
vacant vapours, cold and numb
3rd Delirium: FATES
Tempest turmoil, tapered turrets... holding,
dungeons, dragons, chains and racks
Wheels of fortune, Tarot temptress... molding,
Hangmen, Towers, One Eyed Jacks
Sand dune castles, cryptic candles... folding,
warping walls of liquid wax
Idols colder, combed and coddled... scolding,
hide in fissures, peek through cracks
4th Delirium: LOST SOULS
Sunken cities, pilgrims peering... gawking,
squinting eyeballs, blazing sun
Janus facing, shepherds chasing... stalking,
friends embrace before they shun
Tearooms steaming, tumult teeming... talking,
lovers listen, poets pun
Broken stones unanchored, quaking... rocking,
slipping, falling, one by one
Beaten pathways, footsteps marking... mocking,
wedged in webs which spiders spun
Circus shelters, big tops tumbling... locking,
people pacing, soon they’re none
Numbered exits, zeros numbing... knocking,
midnight daylight’s days undone
Moon blood shackles, shivers shaming... shocking,
starlight striders streaking, stun
Hushed but harried hermits waiting... walking,
restless rainbows on the run
Pixies, elves, and echoes bouncing... balking,
fading fast when dawn’s begun
Bantum butterflies are flitting... flocking
sometimes conquered, overrun
Hocus pokus, seers focus... squawking,
voodoo wavered, witchcraft won
5th Delirium: INTROSPECTION
Sundown furnace, fires fading... coughing,
dusky dew drops drain the air
Empty chalice, sipped in silence... quaffing,
thirsting shadows unaware
Looking glass and lattice scorning... scoffing,
local loser gapes and stares
Faces covered, dancing naked... doffing,
peering inside, hope despairs
6th Delirium: THE VOID
Tales of taboos, mystic mythos... missing,
windows shuttered, bolted door
Kindled candles, tongues and anvils... hissing,
heavy hammers, echoes roar
Dark deceivers, raven charmers... kissing,
draging demons from the shore
Hopeless hollows filled with doubters... dissing
standing empty - nevermore
7th Delirium: SEARCHING
Martyred monks haunt runic ruins ... waiting,
banging broken bells below
Vaulted hallways, voided voices... grating,
churning Chinese chimes aglow
Granite graveyards, spectres spooking... skating,
blackened bushes, roses grow
Midget dwarfs seek mutant migrants... mating,
packing parcels, ice and snow
8th Delirium: NIGHTTIME
Throbbing drumheads, fingers blazing... steaming,
coins of copper, beggars plea
Rusty residues of resin... streaming,
opal amber filigree
Orphan shades in shallow shadows... teeming,
steeping twigs in twilight tea
Cloister doorsteps, Prophets gaming... scheming,
tracing tracks of destiny
Blacksmiths blanching, horseshoes glowing... gleaming,
partially sheathed in black debris
Phantoms feigning, nightmares scathing... screaming,
dusty dreamers drifting free
9th Delerium: EMPTYNESS
Water wheels in wastelands... turning,
drowning relics in the slum
Rumpled rags of fashioned burlap... burning,
lit by bandits blind and dumb
Pastured prisons, ponies bridled ... yearning,
forest fairies under thumb
Sounds inside of cauldrons coughing... churning,
blaring bugles, tattooed drum
10th Delirium: ALIENATION
Rain unravelling, wistfully weeping... falling,
treacle trickling, fickle sky
Mushrooms sprinkled, visions sprouting... sprawling,
seagulls drowning, dolphins die
Rabble gasping, spirits broken... crawling,
lonely lonesome swallows cry
Babbling brooks and breakers ebbing... bawling
puppies paddle, puppets sigh
People passing ripple past me... calling,
rainbow colours, collars high
Chaos seething, lepers looting... stalling,
stealing stallions on the sly
Pencils pausing, scholars scrambling... scrawling,
scratching scribbles, asking why
11th Delirium: JETSAM
Silver sails sway pallid pirates... prowling,
Jolly Rogers, wind and sound
Parrots perching, tattered feathers... fouling,
tethered talons, tied and bound
Shipwrecked foghorns, trumpets stranded... howling,
spiral springs of time unwound
Magic moonlight, shimmers shaking... scowling,
burnt out matchsticks washed aground
Prairie wolfs, coyotes calling... yowling,
witching hours, midnight hounds
Tightrope walkers, grizzlies grunting... growling,
seeking islands, lost and found
12th Delirium: RELIEF
Slumber shattered, vapours captive... haunting,
chained in mirrors, breaking free
Scarlet skylines, daylight dawning... daunting,
rivers rushing to the sea
Silence softens, sandmen whisper... wanting,
piercing rafters, turning keys
Shadows shudder, notions fluster... flaunting,
moonbeam bullets meant for me
Mind in migraine, meadows trembling... taunting,
sparrows speak in harmony
REAWAKENING
Pitter patter, teardrops paling... pearling,
salting scarves in secret drawers
Mist amongst us, smoke rings rising... curling,
climbing from the ocean floors
See-saw circles, senses swerving... swirling,
swept away with silver oars
Courtyard jesters, sceptres twisting... twirling,
push the past to foreign shores
Passing pangs of passions heaving... hurling,
burning bridges, closing doors
Roses wither, icons waning... whirling,
time decays and time restores
A deep breath, at least an attempt
Drawing air into my lungs; painful to say the least
Short shallow breaths relieving the horrible pain
That last kick, missing the block, threw myself off balance
My own damn fault
Deserving of the next kick, left side of my open rib cage
Stupidity is always punished
A sickening crack, an intense pain
Constant reminder to keep my guard up
Fight the urge to vomit
Left arm numb from pain
If I stopped, stayed down too long; he would end it
“Told you to watch that kick Johnny Johnny”
Shook myself hard, working up the urge to keep going
Hell, I’d done this many times before
Eyes swollen shut and ringed with dried blood
His nose, broken; the unnatural angle it tilted, granted mine was too.
My left arm hung limp by my side
I swung again, hard right, for the widening cut above his eye
But so did he
Same hard right, sent me back into the dirt
He fell too.
Blur in my left eye, mere pooling blood
One person among the crowd
A girl
My age, dark hair
It was brown or black?
A tank top and jean shorts
Stood watching the fight shaking her head
Her coy smile
“Boys will be boys”
Only to muster a smile back
A toothy stupid grin
My mouth and teeth rather bloody and red
I wanted to just look at her
But time would not allow
Staggering forward again
Wanted this to end
Wanted to wash my face
Fix the pain that was tearing my ribs,
Most importantly
I wanted to know who she was.
Both fists back up
Swung slow, left hook
Left my ribs wide open
Brought his leg around again
Harder than the first
Grunting in pain and barring my teeth
Anger kept me on my feet
Left arm down fast a
Trapping his leg against my side
My right fist onto his knee
A satisfying crack
A blood curdling yell
He sobbed
Gasping for breath
Through tears he put his fists back up
My shoulder then planted hard into his stomach
Slammed into hard concrete below
He grasped my back until his met concrete
Only good fist ready to finish the fight
Last punch down I stopped.
Anything more would have been cruel
“Damn John you look like hell!”
“Hey man,” I stopped him grabbing his arm, “who was that girl in the tank top, behind you earlier?”
He started to laugh. “Don’t concern yourself with that my friend, she’s too high class company for a guy like you.”
