The lyrics in the top panel are a paraphrase of "Love Is Blue", definitely not the Paul Mauriat version. Imagine if Alex listened to that instead of Beethoven while he was being tortured.
Showing posts with label Alex De Large. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Alex De Large. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 3, 2026
Thursday, May 16, 2019
Clockwork Orange Milk Over My Cereal
***BEFORE I BEGIN***
I know it’s been a while since you’ve last heard from me.
And by a while, I mean only a few days, which doesn’t seem like much to the
laymen in my life, but to me it’s an eternity. I’ve been busy lately. I
currently divide my time between editing the shit out of Emilio and the
Scratching Post (which I now want to rename to Emilio & Marigold) and
taking naps in the middle of the day for no reason. The editing process has
been just a tad overwhelming at times, even more so now that I’ve got a bunch
of macro edits staring me in the face. But the good news is, I’ve learned how
to create biographies for my characters. So now their actions have a purpose.
Now my short story can be…a character-driven fairytale! Woo-hoo! Wish me luck!
I’m going to need it! And now for a more lighthearted topic! We now return you
to your regularly scheduled program.
***CLOCKWORK ORANGE MILK OVER MY CEREAL***
“Alcohol: because no great story ever started with a glass
of milk.”
(Cue the picture of Alex De Large from A Clockwork Orange
drinking Moloko Velochek.)
The other night, I was eating a bowl of Life cereal and the
milk reminded me of that opening scene from A Clockwork Orange. And that got me
thinking: what if I actually poured Moloko Velochek over my cereal and ate it?
No, I have no idea where this thought will take me. It’s nothing more than a
good idea.
My obsession with drug-laced milk didn’t end there. Last
night I ate hot wings at the Tracyton Pub with my brother James, his friend
Blake, and their mutual friend Jeffrey. I ordered fifteen breaded wings of the
spiciest flavor the pub had: Death Wish. My mouth was on fire, my nose was
dripping like a waterfall, and the next day my asshole was leaking lava. Milk
is the only thing that will calm down a fiery mouth, so I drank two glasses of
it at the pub and multiple glasses when I got home. I couldn’t help but hear
the Clockwork Orange opening theme playing in my head as I downed the milk.
That quickly changed when James drove me and Blake home at a bajillion miles
per hour while playing “Rollin’” by Limp Bizkit at maximum volume. For the
record, James hates Limp Bizkit.
Luckily, I didn’t go out for a night of “ultra-violence with
my droogs”, fast driving aside. I also didn’t get brainwashed into becoming a
pacifist, which would suck if I still watched WWE on a regular basis. The
thought of becoming violently ill at Ricochet’s aerial offence or Braun
Strowman’s powerhouse slams would be depressing as fuck. While it is hard to
feel sorry for violent criminals, it’s even harder to feel good about
brainwashing the fuck out of them to where they can’t even defend themselves.
And while we’re at it, was it really necessary to play Alex’s favorite music
during the torture process? Imagine if that happened to me. Not only could I
not watch pro-wrestling, but I also couldn’t listen to heavy metal anymore.
What a big bag of suck life would be.
I don’t really have any philosophical thoughts beyond all of
this. I didn’t even anticipate how short this topic would be. So I’ll just call
it a night and post this sucker on my social media accounts. I’m Garrison
Kelly! Even when you feel like throwing up, keep listening to…nah, don’t do
that.
***LYRICS OF THE DAY***
“Say when! We’re outlaws wanted dead or alive under the cover
of a blood red sky. Bring a knife to a gunfight and we still win. Pale horse is
coming. Retribution for sin. Skin that smoke wagon. I said throw down, boy. You
going to do something or just stand there and bleed? If you want to die, say
when. If you want to play for blood, just say when. Say when! Domination to
anything that’s in our way. Life mowers are coming and stocking the graves.
It’s futile to run and there’s nowhere to hide. So get down on your knees and
pray for your life. Should I hate him? He reminds me of me. Now I know I hate
him. So now it’s time to bleed. If you want to die, say when. If you want to
play for blood, just say when. This is how the war is won. Cultivate the blood
that we feed on. Sanguis! Credat apaella non ego. Eventus stoltorum magister.
In pace requiescat. I want your blood. I want your soul. Do you want to play
for blood? I’m your huckleberry. Sanguis! Credat apaella non ego. Eventus
stoltorum magister. In pace requiescat. Just say when!”
-Hellyeah singing “Say When”-
Saturday, February 28, 2015
Wade Fish
NAME: Wade Fish
AGE: 31
OCCUPATION: Prisoner
CANON: Pretty Colors
When certain people grow up with a tough life in a crime-infested neighborhood, they look for positive ways to leave it all behind. Some people turn to music, some turn to sports, some even go so far as to join the military. And then you have those who are so consumed with their demons that their only escape comes from the worst kind of drugs available, either from the streets or at the local Walgreen’s. Guess which kind of escapist Wade Fish turned out to be. I’ll give you a clue: it involves hypodermic needles, a snorting straw, and pill bottles.
When most people look at Wade, they only see his dirty appearance. They don’t see the past he tried to leave behind. He was bullied in school by teachers and students alike. He was abused by his step-father. Crime was everywhere in his ghetto neighborhood. At the age of 31, he still lived with his abusive step-father and frightened mother. To summarize everything I’ve just said, Wade was not only dealt a crappy hand, but he willingly gave up his chips in exchange for a life in the gutter.
If there was a drug within Wade’s reach, he did it and became a zombie afterwards. He swallowed pills despite not knowing what they were. He snorted cocaine despite never knowing where it came from. He shot heroin into his veins and formed infections around both arms. And when the high took over, he was unstoppable. Wade would lash out at anybody who passed him. It didn’t matter if you were a gangster, a school student, or even a cop on foot: if Wade had a knife, you were fucking dead. Unfortunately for him, he found the one cop who was willing to shoot him in the leg in order to subdue him
Though in today’s warrior cop world, Wade would have been dead a long time ago. But since I need a story worth writing, his story won’t end at the hands of a brutal police officer. While in prison, Wade is offered a chance at freedom on the condition that he undergoes “behavioral modification”. If this sounds at all like a cheap knockoff of either A Clockwork Orange or the fourth story in Tales From the Hood, it’s because Pretty Colors was. And just like Crazy K from the latter of the two movies I’ve mentioned, Wade didn’t give a fuck about anybody’s feelings; he just wanted an easy way back on the streets.
The best way to relieve someone of traumatic stress is to take away their demons or at least neutralize them. In a part of prison called The Diamond Room (which is a colorful version of Crazy K’s sensory deprivation chamber), Wade Fish can do just that by confronting the people from his past who fucked him over. One by one, the “demons” come to life. First it’s his mother. Then it’s his teacher. Then its his stepfather. And now it’s a multi-headed hydra with all three of their heads, plus the heads of the warden and the scientist who created The Diamond Room in the first place. Wade goes into an “I don’t give a fuck!” rage at each of his demons and ends up dying in the colorful room due to a stroke brought on by a seizure.
After Wade dies, the REAL warden and scientist enter the room and say that The Diamond Room, “Just needs some fine tuning.” Really? That was the problem with this whole setup: it wasn’t tweaked enough? Never mind that a human being’s life was on the line. And by the way, just like with any prisoner, Wade’s legacy was buried deep within the beaurocracy of the prison and his body was thrown away like common garbage. Wisdom, justice, and love, my ass.
Even though Wade’s disturbing past is enough of a reason for him to gain sympathy, he will be cast as a villain for the next time I use him. He technically could be a “sympathetic villain”. Maybe he can be like the narrator in “A Million Little Pieces” and just be a lovable asshole. Either that or he can be a low level henchman who’s doing it all for the smack. So many doors can be opened for Wade Fish. All that’s left is for him to walk through one of those doors and become a literary icon. Or I could just bury him again, that always works out so well.
***MOVIE QUOTE OF THE DAY***
“You get me slapped with a fine, you argue with the customers and I have to patch everything up, you get us thrown out of a funeral home for violating a corpse, and to top it all off, you ruin my relationship! I mean, what is your encore?! Do you anally rape my mother while pouring sugar in my gas tank?! You know what the real tragedy behind all of this is?! I’m not even supposed to be here today!”
-Dante Hicks from “Clerks”-
AGE: 31
OCCUPATION: Prisoner
CANON: Pretty Colors
When certain people grow up with a tough life in a crime-infested neighborhood, they look for positive ways to leave it all behind. Some people turn to music, some turn to sports, some even go so far as to join the military. And then you have those who are so consumed with their demons that their only escape comes from the worst kind of drugs available, either from the streets or at the local Walgreen’s. Guess which kind of escapist Wade Fish turned out to be. I’ll give you a clue: it involves hypodermic needles, a snorting straw, and pill bottles.
When most people look at Wade, they only see his dirty appearance. They don’t see the past he tried to leave behind. He was bullied in school by teachers and students alike. He was abused by his step-father. Crime was everywhere in his ghetto neighborhood. At the age of 31, he still lived with his abusive step-father and frightened mother. To summarize everything I’ve just said, Wade was not only dealt a crappy hand, but he willingly gave up his chips in exchange for a life in the gutter.
If there was a drug within Wade’s reach, he did it and became a zombie afterwards. He swallowed pills despite not knowing what they were. He snorted cocaine despite never knowing where it came from. He shot heroin into his veins and formed infections around both arms. And when the high took over, he was unstoppable. Wade would lash out at anybody who passed him. It didn’t matter if you were a gangster, a school student, or even a cop on foot: if Wade had a knife, you were fucking dead. Unfortunately for him, he found the one cop who was willing to shoot him in the leg in order to subdue him
Though in today’s warrior cop world, Wade would have been dead a long time ago. But since I need a story worth writing, his story won’t end at the hands of a brutal police officer. While in prison, Wade is offered a chance at freedom on the condition that he undergoes “behavioral modification”. If this sounds at all like a cheap knockoff of either A Clockwork Orange or the fourth story in Tales From the Hood, it’s because Pretty Colors was. And just like Crazy K from the latter of the two movies I’ve mentioned, Wade didn’t give a fuck about anybody’s feelings; he just wanted an easy way back on the streets.
The best way to relieve someone of traumatic stress is to take away their demons or at least neutralize them. In a part of prison called The Diamond Room (which is a colorful version of Crazy K’s sensory deprivation chamber), Wade Fish can do just that by confronting the people from his past who fucked him over. One by one, the “demons” come to life. First it’s his mother. Then it’s his teacher. Then its his stepfather. And now it’s a multi-headed hydra with all three of their heads, plus the heads of the warden and the scientist who created The Diamond Room in the first place. Wade goes into an “I don’t give a fuck!” rage at each of his demons and ends up dying in the colorful room due to a stroke brought on by a seizure.
After Wade dies, the REAL warden and scientist enter the room and say that The Diamond Room, “Just needs some fine tuning.” Really? That was the problem with this whole setup: it wasn’t tweaked enough? Never mind that a human being’s life was on the line. And by the way, just like with any prisoner, Wade’s legacy was buried deep within the beaurocracy of the prison and his body was thrown away like common garbage. Wisdom, justice, and love, my ass.
Even though Wade’s disturbing past is enough of a reason for him to gain sympathy, he will be cast as a villain for the next time I use him. He technically could be a “sympathetic villain”. Maybe he can be like the narrator in “A Million Little Pieces” and just be a lovable asshole. Either that or he can be a low level henchman who’s doing it all for the smack. So many doors can be opened for Wade Fish. All that’s left is for him to walk through one of those doors and become a literary icon. Or I could just bury him again, that always works out so well.
***MOVIE QUOTE OF THE DAY***
“You get me slapped with a fine, you argue with the customers and I have to patch everything up, you get us thrown out of a funeral home for violating a corpse, and to top it all off, you ruin my relationship! I mean, what is your encore?! Do you anally rape my mother while pouring sugar in my gas tank?! You know what the real tragedy behind all of this is?! I’m not even supposed to be here today!”
-Dante Hicks from “Clerks”-
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