Sex Scenes In Silent Warrior

***SEX SCENES IN SILENT WARRIOR***

I don’t like to give spoilers for my stories or anybody else’s, but in this case, an exception has to be made for my current work in progress, Silent Warrior. Two future chapters of this novel will include sex scenes between Scott George and Adrienne Simpson. The first of these two chapters features Scott masturbating in his bedroom to Adrienne’s bare feet. The second of the two chapters will feature a full-blown sex scene between the two high school sweethearts. Because of various social media sites’ prohibition of sexual content, these two sex-based chapters will not be posted online and will instead be kept on my computer in a private folder.

This next statement is not a knock on any online groups I’m a part of, but is instead an indictment of society in general. You can show people getting their heads blown off with shotguns. You can show people getting their hearts ripped out of their chests. You can set people on fire. You can beat the shit out of attack dogs. But whatever you do, don’t show two high school students having consensual sex. In that respect, it would be less offensive if Scott George hacked off Tom Simpson’s limbs with a machete, or if Alan Young ripped Scott’s brain out of his skull through his eye sockets. John Lennon famously pointed out the hypocrisy of violence being less offensive than sex, but he was assassinated in 1980, so we’re pretty much deprived of his wisdom in this day and age.

And in case you couldn’t tell already from the chapters I’ve posted, yes, Scott George has a foot fetish. It’s a common fetish to have, particularly for men. There’s nothing weird or repulsive about it (unless you want to ruin it by pointing out foot odor and toe jam). If you wear flip-flops around a foot fetishist in public, don’t panic, because he’s not going to hump your feet at a million miles per hour right there and then. That’s what molesters do. Being a foot fetishist is nowhere close to being the same as being a molester. In the same way gay people don’t hump every guy they see at random, foot fetishists have perfect self-control in public, because most of them are, surprise, surprise, decent people. I know this, because I too have a foot fetish, which is my own little self-insert for Scott George’s character.

Of course, another part of this controversy is the age difference between Scott and Adrienne. Scott is an eighteen-year-old senior and Adrienne is a fifteen-year-old freshman. While I won’t divulge how their age difference will factor into later parts of the story, I will say that it’s a central part of my novel, especially towards the end. Some of my readers will think nothing of a three year age difference while others will say that Adrienne is too far below the age of consent, which is sixteen. It could be a matter of simple math or it could be anal retentiveness towards the rules and regulations, depending on your personal opinion.

In conclusion, if you’re searching the internet for two lost chapters of Silent Warrior, you now know why you’ll never find them. I’d love to be able to share them with you all, but it’s just not in the cards. I’ve been in trouble plenty of times in my internet surfing days for posting offensive content. It’s the reason why I’m banned from Play By Web forever and why I no longer have a website called Macaroni & Ownage Productions. I’m enjoying my internet freedom as of today, so I’m going to err on the side of safety and refrain from posting those two sexual chapters of my story. Thanks for understanding and have a great day.

***MOVIE DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

RANDAL: So what you’re trying to tell me is that I’m no more responsible for my own actions than, say, a death squad soldier in Bosnia?

DANTE: Oh, now that’s stretching it. You’re not being asked to slay children or anything like that.

RANDAL: Not yet.

-Clerks-

Writing Everyday

***WRITING EVERYDAY***

Lord knows how many times I’ve beaten this topic to death. Every time I logon to Face Book, I see a primordial ocean of memes telling me to write every single day of the week with no excuses. As frustrating as it is sometimes to read those memes, they’re absolutely right. If I could write every single day, I’d be one smiling motherfucker. It’s not like I haven’t been put on that schedule before. You don’t graduate from WWU without writing everyday. Hell, even in 2011 when my schizophrenia was flaring out of control, writing was a daily grind that I embraced.

There’s not on particular thing that contributed to my ability to write everyday in the past. It was more like a multitude of happenings. I was younger, so I had more energy. I drank cans of Red Bull and Amp Lightning like there was no tomorrow. I also was a proud practitioner of the Atkins Diet, which resulted in my minimum weight being somewhere around 240 lbs. But just like with all good things in life, these temporary fixes were just that: temporary. Being young doesn’t last forever, as evidenced by my induction into the dirty thirties. The energy drinks were making my heart race, so I had to stop drinking them at the risk of having a heart attack. The Atkins Diet, just like with all fad diets, was never meant to be permanent, so now I’m back up to 300 lbs.

Now that I’m older, heavier, and caffeine-free, it seems as though I spend most of my time walking around like a zombie and napping with Smokey. Napping with Smokey is a wonderful activity, but it doesn’t result in creative bursts. Because of this newfound tiredness, my head isn’t as clear as it once was and when your head’s fogged up, you can’t concentrate. When you can’t concentrate, your writing turns to shit. Sure, first drafts are never meant to be perfect, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have an obligation to at least try to make them that way.

One of the things I’m currently doing to remedy this problem of mental exhaustion is using a CPAP every night. It’s an oxygen machine designed to counteract sleep apnea, a disease where you stop breathing in your sleep and wake up tired the next day. Sleep apnea can be caused by a number of things, weight gain, a large neck, and antipsychotic medications among them. Even though I use my CPAP every night, it’s not a surefire guarantee that I’ll be alert and ready to go for that particular day. Some days I can knock it out of the park, other days I just want to lay in bed and do jack shit. That’s part of the reason why I get a lot of creative work done in the nighttime: because I spend most of the morning and afternoon trying to wake the fuck up.

I admit that a lot of my mental exhaustion is my fault. The Atkins Diet failed because I love carbs too much. I especially like foods from Pizza Hut, McDonald’s, KFC, and Quizno’s. The most I do for exercise is walking two miles every day in the frigid weather, but it’s only a matter of time before the rain, snow, and wind come rolling through and going outside is no longer an option. I have a gym membership, but no car, so I can’t go whenever I want. If I had the chance to exercise everyday at an intense rate without gassing out in the first few seconds, my food addiction might not even be an issue. And yes, that’s what it is, folks: an addiction to food. Sugar, salt, and fats are all more addictive than cocaine. They’re designed to be that way, because the food industry needs repeat customers. Mission accomplished. It’s not a copout; it’s the truth.

If I could write every single day without worrying about mental energy, you’re damn right I would. I’m self-motivated, I’m hardworking, and every supervisor I’ve ever had admired my work ethic. Throughout my college days, both at Olympic and Western Washington, I’ve only had five C’s and two D’s. The two D’s were in the same subject: physics. The one C at Olympic College was for a sociology class taught by a former Harvard professor. The other four C’s happened at WWU, where everything is by design harder than anything taught at a community college like Olympic. More often than not, I’ve had either an A or a B in whatever class I took at the two colleges. That’s a lot of fucking classes and only a handful of times have I been unsatisfied with my grades.

I listed those credentials not to toot my own horn, but to prove that I’m capable of finishing any project I set my mind to. It’s all a matter of having an endless supply of mental energy that day. If not today, then tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the day after that. Or the day after that. Or the day after that. The easy solution for me would be to eat better, exercise harder, and keep a positive mindset. But the truth is, if it was that easy, I’d be a middleweight by now with novels out the yin-yang. Being healthy is a skill. That’s why we have entire competitions and games dedicated to being a skillful athlete: hockey, wrestling, basketball, football, or whatever. It’s not a skill that can be perfected right away. It’s one that has to be crafted and learned over time, just like writing.

For those of you out there who post memes suggesting that I should write everyday, know that I’m listening with both ears wide open. Not only do I listen, but I also agree. I’ve done it before and I can do it again. The ability to work hard doesn’t just go away because you’re done with school. And whatever you do, don’t let anybody tell you that you’re lazy just because you were born in a certain time period where technology was readily available. That’s just a dickish statement made by bitter people who gave up on their dreams a long time ago. I may be mentally fogged up, but I’m not down for the count! Not even close! In fact, just when I was certain I wouldn’t get any creative work done today, I wrote this blog! Take that, motherfuckers! We’ve got ears, say cheers!

***AMERICAN DARKNESS 3***

Looking back at the short story synopses I wrote back in 2013 and 2014, it’s noticeable how little detail I put into them judging from how short they are. Such is the case with “Dark Skills” (holy shit, that’s a lot of darkness!). The WSS has a new contest going with “Signature” as their main theme. So, here’s how everything fits together:

CHARACTERS:

1.      Matt Singleton, Serial Killer

2.      Carl Howard, Serial Killer

3.      Michelle Woods, Victim

PROMPT CONFORMITY: Carl is in the process of tattooing Michelle’s lower back with his indecipherable signature when Matt breaks into the apartment.

SYNOPSIS: Matt and Carl are rival serial killers who want the same victim. Michelle is all alone in her apartment and ripe for the picking. The two killers use different entrances to gain access to the apartment and argue with each other over who gets the kill.

***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

Another thing I’ve noticed is that there are two synopses in my archives that revolve around the Spanish word “Comegente”, which translates into English as “cannibal” or “human eater”. One of those synopses is titled Los Comegentes and features a seven foot tall Mexican gangster named Patrick Ortiz whose weapon of choice is a chainsaw. Great stuff, huh? Guess what? Patrick is going to be the next Dark Fantasy Warrior.

***MOVIE DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

DANTE: I can’t believe you. I finally get my shit together. I’m hours away from getting out of here and really starting my life and you somehow manage to obliterate all of that and reduce me to a convict!

RANDAL: Oh yeah, it’s my fault your life’s fucked up. I’m the engaged guy who knocked up my boss.

JAY: You knocked up the guy who owns Mooby’s? Ew!

-Clerks 2-

Self-Esteem

***SELF-ESTEEM***

When I watched George Carlin perform standup comedy for the last time in 2008, he ripped into people who believed in The Self-Esteem Movement. He argued that making all children feel special only makes them complacent and incompetent as students and workers. Because Carlin was a huge influence on me back then and still is today, I took his word as gospel and never questioned it. And then I saw another comedy routine he did back in the 1990’s where he slammed the environmental movement and liberals in general. Naturally, there’s a disagreement between us.

So as long as I’m learning to question what everyone says, what can be said about The Self-Esteem Movement? Yes, it’s important to have children who will grow up to be winners in life. I get that. Hard work, passion, and dedication are the keys to success. But what happens when they have a setback? Do they deserve to feel poorly about themselves afterwards? Such negative thoughts can take you to a dark place in life. Drugs, alcohol, sadness, suicide, self-harm, so many negative ways to cope with a heavy loss.

I’m currently reading Ronda Rousey’s “My Fight / Your Fight” memoir and there’s a lot to be said about her inner strength. Her judoka mother was always hard on her when she suffered a loss in a judo competition. Her mother also made Ronda compete through pain and injuries as if they’re completely ignorable. The proof is in the pudding: Ronda Rousey was undefeated for twelve MMA fights, she’s a former Women’s Bantamweight Champion, she’s wanted for movie roles, and she’s making a shit load of money.

But then there are the times in life when Ronda lost. Her most recent defeat was at the hands of Holly Holm, who kicked her in the head to earn a KO victory and the UFC Women’s Bantamweight Championship. Because she was conditioned to feel poorly after a loss, Ronda had suicidal thoughts as revealed in an interview with Ellen DeGeneres. I’m glad she never acted on those harmful thoughts, but what if she had? What if she didn’t have her UFC boyfriend Travis Browne to be her rock? What if her mother didn’t occasionally come to her rescue? Then what?

Is it possible to have a balance between the two extremes? Can children be told they’re special and be successful people at the same time? Consider this quote: “It’s easier to build up a child than to repair an adult.” Suffering losses and feeling bad about doesn’t “build character”. Remember that scene in Full Metal Jacket where Private Pyle shoots his sadistic drill instructor and then himself? That’s one instance where tough love goes wrong and it’s probably not an isolated incident.

Thinking highly of yourself has to account for something. If you don’t believe in your own abilities, what makes you think anybody else will? You can experience failure and still have the wherewithal to change your strategy and turn your life around.

The WSS group at Good Reads recently launched an e-magazine where the stories and poems of the contest winners would be featured. I have to admit, because I put a lot of pressure on myself to succeed, I initially felt sorry for myself because I hadn’t won a contest since 2014 when I entered “Luna the Moon Kitty”. I didn’t think this launch celebration had anything to do with me. And then I remembered that the WSS is still all about friendly competition and helping each other succeed. If my story didn’t get exposure on the e-magazine, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. There are other ways to get exposure and the WSS will still hold true to their principles of being a friendly community. God, I love those guys!

If you want to feel good about yourselves, you have my permission. I won’t give you grief for receiving a “participation trophy” after playing a game of little league baseball. The fact that you even want to play baseball and have the athleticism to do so should say a lot about you. I’m over 300 lbs., so there’s no way I’m becoming an athlete of any kind in the near future, which means no participation trophy. Sports are hard to play and hard to be good at, which is why I stay away from them and stick to what I’m good at: writing, drawing, and photography. We’ve got ears, say cheers!


***WEEKLY SHORT STORY CONTESTS AND COMPANY***

As part of the WSS’s newly launched e-magazine, they’re holding a monthly contest in addition to the weekly ones, so I figured, why not write another story? This one will be called “Medicine Man” and it goes like this:

CHARACTERS:

Tetra Engel, Thief
Jax Nightshade, Dark Paladin
Anya Kolobalos, Gangster

PROMPT CONFORMITY: Tetra wants to give his cancer-stricken sister a fresh start in life by healing her.

SYNOPSIS: Jax is the innovator of “maggot therapy” and charges excessively high prices to cure his patients. When Tetra’s sister develops breast cancer, instead of forking over his life savings, he goes out and attempts to steal the maggots from Jax. In addition to the so-called “Medicine Man”, Tetra also has to be weary of Anya, a spear-wielding gangster who wants to steal the maggots to make recreational drugs to sell at an even higher price. It’s a three-way battle on the rooftop of Jax’s satanic church. Who will survive?


***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

The next drawing I will turn out is of Caitlin Sparks, the rebellious swordswoman from “Sage Against the Machine”, which I wrote independently of the WSS contests. I’m trying to think of a cool costume for her, but nothing’s coming to mind just yet. Eh, I’ll figure it out eventually.


***POISON TONGUE TALES***

I’ve been busy editing the shit out of short stories and so far, so good. If I have my way, there will be one day where I edit six at a time just like I did today. The next to be bulldozed will be…

Guns, Drugs, and Misogyny

The Happy Slasher

Harvest Moon

Hell Yeah

I, Barbarian

If I Offer You My Soul (the one that coincidentally features a character named Ashley Marie)


***MOVIE DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

DANTE: Here’s what I don’t understand about you: you have a driver’s license, you can operate a grownup vehicle, but after you drive a go-kart, you somehow feel better about yourself.

RANDAL: Look, it just centers me, okay? Kind of like the way jerking off in the men’s bathroom at work centers you.

DANTE: Hey, that was one time and it wasn’t to center me.

RANDAL: You’re right. It was to cum.

DANTE: So why did we have to drive all the way out here just so you can ride the go-karts?

RANDAL: Look, I don’t want to jerk off in the bathroom at work. What if I’m going and a customer comes in all sex nuts and retard strong? Next thing you know, I’m fighting him off while he tries to jam my dick in his mouth.

DANTE: The likeliest of scenarios.

RANDAL: Yeah, well, I don’t know about you, but cumming centers me.

DANTE: Man, that shit Lance said must have really bothered you.

RANDAL: Oh, fuck him. He’s an asshole. He always was. I’m sorry I let him bother me for even a minute. At least I got a go-kart trip out of it.

DANTE: Why do the go-karts help?

RANDAL: They just remind me of a better time in my life.

DANTE: Like when?

RANDAL: When we were young and the world was right there in front of us.

DANTE: You’re not that old.

RANDAL: I know, but sometimes I think the world left us behind a long time ago.

DANTE: You can do something about that.

RANDAL: I told you, I’m not jerking off in the men’s bathroom at Mooby’s.

DANTE: No, not that. Have you ever thought about leaving Mooby’s and changing your situation in life?

RANDAL: What’s the point? Besides, why do you give a shit? You’re leaving.

-Clerks II-

Slip Away

***SLIP AWAY***

If you’re single and you’re agonizing about it, stay as far away as possible from “Slip Away” by David Arkenstone and Charlee Brooks. The melodic and gentle piano, the somber bagpipes, and Charlee Brooks’ gorgeous voice will all come together to open those floodgates you call tear ducts. I have to be honest with you guys: Valentine’s Day was depressing this year. I’ve pretty much given up on agonizing over my single status, but I was so depressed that day that I ordered a pizza and ate the whole thing. The next day was much better, but Valentine’s Day was just…bleh! “Slip Away” was one of the songs I made the mistake of listening to on that lonely day. Here are the lyrics:


VERSE 1
The seasons change
And age our temporary souls
Chasing fate
Along it's winding road
Flames burn bright and pass into smoke
But our love
Will dance among the stars
Down the streets of gold

PRE-CHORUS
I am bound to you
By more than what divides us

CHORUS
Slip away, slip away sweet lover
Into an endless stream
Slip away, slip away sweet lover
And you can rescue me
Close your eyes
And drift into a shining memory
I'll see you again where the sky touches the sea

VERSE 2
And with your love
You've painted vivid colors on my heart
Your light will always illuminate my dark

PRE-CHORUS
I am bound to you
By more than what divides us

CHORUS
Slip away, slip away sweet lover
Into an endless stream
Slip away, slip away sweet lover
And you can rescue me
Close your eyes
And drift into a shining memory
I'll see you again where the sky touches the sea

ABRIDGED VERSE 1
The seasons change
And age our temporary souls
Chasing fate
Along it's winding road


***WEEKLY SHORT STORY CONTESTS AND COMPANY***

For this week’s contest, the authors were given a list of quotes to choose from as their prompt. I chose mine and now I have a story to write. I’ve been needing an excuse to write “A Real Woman” for months now, especially after John Oliver did one of his monologues about transgender struggles.


CHARACTERS:

Jenny Andrews, Transgender Gym Student
Melissa Moore, Transphobic Bully
Jessica Sullivan, Kindred Spirit Gym Teacher
Random Female Gym Students

QUOTE OF CHOICE: "Behind every beautiful thing, there's some kind of pain." -Bob Dylan

SYNOPSIS: In the girls locker room at Richmond High School, a male-to-female transgender student named Jenny shows up to get changed into her workout clothes. She is confronted by Melissa, who believes she’s still a man and encourages other female students to gang up on her. A few cuts and bruises on Jenny’s body later, Miss Sullivan shows up to back everyone away and tend to the injured transsexual.


***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

Faye Blood’s drawing is now up and she is the second Dark Fantasy Warrior to be done with colored pencils. Up next, we’ve got another fierce fighting female: Jill Henderson, the racist mercenary from “Born to Die”. She was a giantess among insects, both in terms of physical stature and intimidating power.


***MOVIE DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

RANDAL: Oh, what? What’s with you, man? You haven’t said anything for like twenty minutes! What the hell’s your problem?

DANTE: This life.

RANDAL: This life?

DANTE: Why do I have this life?

RANDAL: Have some chips, you’ll feel better.

DANTE: I’m stick in this pit working for less than a slave’s wages, I’m working on my day off, the goddamn steel shutters are closed, I smell like shoe polish, I have to deal with every backward ass fuck on the planet, my ex-girlfriend is catatonic after fucking a dead guy, and my present girlfriend has sucked thirty-six dicks.

RANDAL: Thirty-seven.

DANTE: My life’s in the shitter right now and if you don’t mind I’d like to stew a bit.

-Clerks-


***POST-SCRIPT***

Speaking of Clerks, does anybody here know if Kevin Smith is officially planning to make a third Clerks movie? The last time I heard, it’s going to feature a love triangle between Dante, Becky from the second movie, and Veronica from the first. I could be wrong.

Adapting to Change

***ADAPTING TO CHANGE***

We live in an era where everything we do has the potential for artistic merit. In the past, I’ve covered topics like reusing abandoned buildings, home improvement, and building Magic: the Gathering decks, all of which qualify as being creative projects if done in an innovative way. I’d like to add something else to this list, an underrated form of creativity that often gets taken for granted: adapting to change. As long as we live our lives, life will give us all the change we need. Whether it’s good change or bad change, the only way we can seek to improve ourselves is by rising from the ashes every time.

Writers have to adapt to change on a regular basis, especially if they’re working one-on-one with an editor. An editor’s job is simple: read an author’s manuscript and point out what things worked, what things didn’t, and what could be done to improve the things that didn’t. It is not an editor’s job, however, to make these changes for you. Yes, you have a better idea of what to change, but it’s ultimately up to you to decide how you will change those things. Even if an editor gives you a solution at your request, you, the author, are ultimately the one who says “yes” or “no” to that decision. When a writer has successfully adapted to the changes his manuscript is presented with, he will have a stronger product. He may have to edit several more times after that, but every time the literature will become stronger.

Episodic television shows have to adapt to change all the time. A screenwriter can produce weeks, months, or even seasons of television far in advance. But if an actor leaves the show, budgets become constrained, or the ratings aren’t high enough, adapting to change becomes more important than ever and all of that advance television has to be rewritten and reedited to accommodate those changes.

The original version of NCIS (Washington DC) has gone through several lineup changes during its current thirteen year run. In 2005, Sasha Alexander (Special Agent Caitlin Todd) left the show for unknown reasons, so her character was sniped by an Israeli terrorist named Ari. Ever since then, the audience was treated to Ziva David, a socially awkward, yet badass Probationary Agent. In 2013, Cote de Pablo (Ziva’s actor) left the show also for unknown reasons, so her character went back to Israel due to crippling guilt. She was replaced by socially awkward NSA analyst turned NCIS Special Agent Ellie Bishop. Don’t worry, because Emily Wickersham (Ellie’s actor) isn’t going anywhere for the time being. Michael Weatherly (Tony DiNozzo) on the other hand is leaving at the end of this current season. So many changes, so little time.

The WWE has to adapt to changes all the time, so that will keep the creative writers busy for a long, long time. In 2015, there were a shit ton of injuries that prevented certain wrestlers from competing. Seth Rollins tweaked his knee and had to give up the WWE World Heavyweight Championship, which is currently being held by his former Shield mate Roman Reigns. Daniel Bryan suffered a concussion and had to give up the Intercontinental Championship, which was won by Ryback in an Elimination Chamber match, won by Kevin Owens at Night of Champions, and won by Dean Ambrose at Tables, Ladders, and Chairs. Then Tyson Kidd, Cesaro, John Cena, and Sting started getting injured. The Divas division wasn’t safe either since Paige had concussion issues, Sasha Banks injured her knee, Nikki Bella snapped her neck, and Rosa Mendes became a mother for the first time in her life. Choosing wrestlers to take these injured workers’ places is a critical decision that must be made on the fly. Entire storylines have to be rewritten all over again to accommodate these new wrestlers.

Just like with every journal, I’m going to use my own life as an example as well. My life is for the most part pretty routine, humble, and satisfying. Major changes in my life are rare, but when they do happen, they usually come in the form of a schizophrenic attack. Offensive images and sounds will invade my mind to where I “flinch” away from them to minimize the pain. But as I flinch from them, I’m also flinching from other aspects of my life that I derive pleasure from, the most important one being heavy metal music. How do I adapt to a schizophrenic attack? Listening to more new age music is my most common method. I’ve written a shit ton of heavy metal song lyrics during schizophrenic episodes and they were well received by the public. But just recently, I’ve had to learn how to confront my schizophrenic demons. I had to play the images and sounds in my head so many times without flinching until the fear of them is conquered and dead. I’m no longer afraid of my own mental demons because I looked them in the eye and said, “Fuck you, I’m not moving!” The gatekeepers to my happiness have gone home…but for how long?

Change can come in many forms: a new city to live in, the death of a loved one, the loss of a job, a physical injury, and many others that are easy to relate to. Learning how to live a normal life in the face of these changes is what will make you strong enough to never regret those changes happening. Change is inevitable, but strength is forever. No amount of change will make life impossibly hard to live. You simply learn to work around those issues and face the next challenge with a warrior’s spirit. Any piece of art can be created from the remains of destruction. The main character from Pink Floyd the Wall smashed up his hotel room and turned the broken furniture into a collage. It’s an insane way to think about it, but then again, insanity and creativity have strong ties to each other. We’ve got ears, say cheers!


***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***

The next warrior to be drawn will be a villainess named Domino Gunn. If you’ve been following my art career in 2007, you would have seen her in a movie script called World of Darkness, where she was a lingerie-wearing dark paladin whose weapon of choice was a ball in chain. In today’s world, she’s a villainess in the Poison Tongue Tales short story “Stone Cold”. She tries to seduce the vengeful barbarian Brutus Warpath, but gets her throat ripped out instead. A lovely fate for a lovely lady.


***MOVIE DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

DANTE: You know what the real tragedy of all of this is? I’m not even supposed to be here today!

RANDAL: Oh, fuck you! Fuck you, pal! Jesus, there you go again trying to pass the buck like I’m the source of all your fucking misery! Who closed the store to play hockey?! Who closed the store to go to a funeral?! Who tried to win back his ex-girlfriend without even discussing how he felt with his present one?! You want to blame somebody for all of this?! Blame yourself! “I’m not even supposed to be here today!” You sound like an asshole! Jesus, nobody twisted your arm to be here! You came here on your own volition! You like to think the weight of the world is on your shoulders like, “This place would fall apart if Dante wasn’t here!” You overcompensate for having what’s basically a monkey’s job! You push fucking buttons! Anybody can waltz in here and do what we do! You make it sound so much more epic, so much more important than it really is! Christ, you work in a convenience store, Dante! And badly, I might add! I work in a shitty video store, badly as well! You know, that guy Jay has it right! He has no illusions about what he does for a living! Us, we like to think we’re so much more important than the people who come in here to buy a newspaper or, God forbid, cigarettes! We look down on those people like we’re so advanced! Well, if we’re so fucking advanced, why are we working here?!

-Clerks-

Physical Fitness

***PHYSICAL FITNESS***

This coming January, my family and I are going to renew our memberships at the YMCA and exercise there on a regular basis. It’s that time again. It’s time for me to get my big ass back in shape. I’ve seen pictures of myself in the past where I look fantastic and then compare them to how I currently look in the mirror. It’s not a good feeling. What makes me feel better about my weight loss quests is that I’ve been a skinny man before and I can sure as hell do it again. But here’s where it gets tricky: weight loss has always been a back and forth battle for me. I’d make a plan, I’d stick to it, and I’d lose a lot of weight. Then I deviate from the plan just slightly and my weight spirals out of control once again. It’s a cycle I’m eventually going to have to break, but it can’t be done without people supporting me, which means no offers for fast food or ice cream and a staunch commitment to exercise every day despite tiredness.

The other part of this equation is my rebellious attitude towards the weight loss quest. I keep thinking that I have to do these ultra-hard exercises like Cross Fit or hour-long running or else I’m not going to lose any weight. I know for sure that’s not necessarily true, but I keep having scenarios play out in my head exactly like that. I’m not athletically minded by any stretch of the imagination. If I do any super-tough exercises, I’ll tire out within ten seconds tops. I don’t have it in me to ignore my tiredness, so I quit right away. I don’t want to be an athlete who plays sports. I just want to be healthy. Athletes have to do torturous things to their bodies just to maintain their energy. As an autism patient with increased sensitivity to stimuli, I feel the pain of intense exercise tenfold what a normal person feels.

To my way of thinking, physical fitness should come in the form of a handout. I know that’s not entirely realistic, but working that hard to achieve a smaller belly doesn’t appeal to me. But I also know that weight loss gimmicks like fat burning pills and surgery have dangerous side effects that overshadow any tiredness I feel from an intense workout. Here’s the truth: there are no handouts when it comes to physical fitness. If there were, America wouldn’t be the obese country that it is today.

While my plan for physical fitness isn’t in the form of shortcuts nor is it the ninth circle of hell, I do intend to find middle ground between the two. Thus, we have water walking, something I’ve done in the past with a lot of success. I get in the lap pool, run one way, and high-knee march the other. Fighting against water resistance is hard work and will get me the cardio I need. What makes it doable is the warmth of the water and how soothing it is to my joints. Because of this, I don’t actually feel the aches and pains of exercising until after I get out of the pool, which is when I’ve been walking for a whole hour. As the months go by and I start to weigh less, it’ll become two hours. And then three.

I was hesitant about this plan at first because I was rebelling against the idea that my heavy body was compromising my health. Every time I was told that I could have a heart attack or that harder exercises and a kale diet were the answer, I felt like I was being insulted. Insulting me doesn’t motivate me to work harder. It makes me resent the one doing the insulting. When my feelings and individuality are both considered, however, then that’s when exercising and dieting become more natural to me.

In January, the road to physical fitness begins once again. And once I’m on that road, I want to stay on it indefinitely. One slight detour could result in the world’s biggest fiery crash. That means no more ice cream, no more convenience store food, and the only fast food I’m going to agree to eat is from Subway. I’m all onboard with a plan like this. All I need is for people to come through for me and support me in this plan one-hundred-percent. I want to wear smaller clothes. I want to fit into whatever chair I’m sitting on. I want to do basic things without being winded right away. I want to live to be a hundred and look back on life with no regrets. I’m ready. Is everyone else?

　

***MOVIE DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

DANTE: My mom told me a story one time that when I was three, my potty lid was closed. So instead of opening it, I shit my pants.

RANDAL: Lovely story.

DANTE: Look, the point is, I’m not the kind of person who disrupts things just so I can shit comfortably.

-Clerks-

Weird Ass Dreams

***WEIRD ASS DREAMS***

I don’t often talk about my dreams anymore, but since I’m desperate for journal topics and it’s past the three day limit, I think this needs to be said. Last night, I had two of the weirdest dreams I could possibly have. The first one was just plain weird while the second one could be considered a nightmare. You don’t have to worry about me being traumatized or anything like that. But if I don’t share these dreams with you guys, I feel like it’ll be all for nothing. So, here we go…

　

In the first dream, my brother James took me to a theme park. At first I didn’t know what theme park it was, so naturally I envisioned water slides and rollercoasters as I tried to guess this surprise. Turns out it was a theme park based on the idea of Muslims and Jews getting along. I shit you not. Among the attractions were the two cultures sitting in a giant field with each other and going swimming together in an indoor pool. I like the idea of people coexisting peacefully, but there’s just one problem: no rollercoasters. None. Not one fucking rollercoaster. So I decide to send James a text message saying I’m headed for home to find something more fun to do than to hang out at the theme park. He sends one back to me saying that I’m ignorant and uneducated, basically muscling me back into the theme park with a guilt trip. And then the two of us run around the theme park pretending to be Clerks characters. I ate an ice cream cone beforehand, so naturally I gassed out early while James, being the athlete he is, outruns me for miles.

And then you have the second dream, the one I consider to be a nightmare. The dream took place in a massage parlor based on one that’s right here in my home town of Port Orchard. I wish I was making that part up. It’s in a strip mall next to the tobacco store where I used to buy Susan cigarettes. The windows are blacked out and the business sign just says “Massage”. In my dream, I finally decide it’s time to lose my virginity, so I go into that same massage parlor looking for sex. I have to wait in the lobby so that the staff can find me a suitable girl who will be my first lay. Here’s where the sexy dream turns into a nightmare. In the lobby, there are television monitors mounted on the walls. And on these monitors, they’re showing…(gulp)…overly muscular cartoon men from around the world raping each other as well as raping a few animals. I got the hell out of there as soon as I could, but the trauma still lingered. Regardless, James took out his smart phone and Googled a better place to get laid, which is in California. Before I had the chance to drive there, I woke up from the dream feeling terrified of what I saw in the massage parlor.

　

Will I be using these dreams for creative fuel? The answer to that question is the same as any other dream I’ve posted about in Garrison’s Library: no. I kept saying yes during those past posts, but I never got around to it, so I might as well give an honest answer and say no this time. However, the idea of weird ass dreams and nightmares could work in a short story for the WSS. Maybe the guy could go to a sleep clinic and have the worst nightmare in his whole life. He could be possessed by a demon or he could be haunted by psychological demons from his past. I like where this is going! We’ve got ears, say cheers!


***MOVIE DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

DANTE: Things happened today, things that probably ruined my chances with Caitlin.
RANDAL: What, the dead guy? She’ll get over fucking a dead guy. Shit, my mom’s been fucking a dead guy for thirty years. I call him dad.
DANTE: Caitlin and I can’t be together after this, it’s impossible.
RANDAL: Melodrama seems to come as naturally for you as a normal bowel movement.

-Clerks-

Not For Business

***NOT FOR BUSINESS***

When I was transitioning from a kid to an adult, I gave up acting out scenes with my action figures and Legos. I had the mindset that if I wasn’t doing something to further my future career as a screenwriter (which is what I wanted to be at the time), then extracurricular activities were unnecessary and therefore a waste of time. I’m sure there are many adults who feel business-minded enough that their careers are their whole lives.

I’m telling you all right now, your career, no matter how passionately you feel about it, is not your whole life, and no extracurricular activities you undertake are a waste of time. Putting time into a career is only a small part of what life is supposed to be. The other part of that equation is…living! I had this struggle when I was drawing pictures of my characters for the first time. At first I thought to myself, “What does drawing pictures have to do with my career as a writer?” Technically, I could put them in my books as part of a mini-gallery, but ultimately, drawings have little impact on my writing career. The past me would have been terrified at that notion. The current version of me couldn’t give two shits.

Working the same job for endless hours can get tiring no matter how dedicated you are. Even the most passionate people have to learn to step away for a while and take the edge off. The now former drummer for Nothing More, Paul O’Brien, left the band because the hectic touring schedule has completely drained him. He was already dealing with social anxiety and depression, so having an off switch for his career was next to impossible. Luckily, he’s still on good terms with his Nothing More band mates. But some coworkers and bosses aren’t so forgiving. CM Punk left the WWE on sour terms because his body was aching and nobody was giving him a break. When you have to quit your career just to take the edge off, that’s a sign that you needed to take the edge off a long time ago, but in shorter bursts.

So don’t feel guilty about getting nothing done to advance your career whatever that may be. Take a break. Feel good about feeling good. Watch a new show. Go for a walk. Find new music to listen to. Draw some pictures. Play some videogames. Hit the reset button on your mind and it when it comes time to get back to work, know your escapes will always be there for you. Do you think Dante and Randal from Clerks feel like serving the community all day long? Bullshit, man! They’re on the roof playing hockey and going for road trips to funeral homes! You can add years to your life, but first you have to learn to add life to your years. And if your legacy isn’t immortalized in bronze by the time life is over, just know that it never had to be. Do what makes you happy with the life you have left. We’ve got ears, say cheers!

　

***WEEKLY SHORT STORY CONTEST AND COMPANY***

It’s a new week at the WSS, which means a new prompt for both storytellers and poets. Since I’m the former of those two, I’m going to write a Cat Lady story called “Ottie-Doo”, which goes like this:

　

CHARACTERS:

　
　

Ottie, Elderly Witch Kitty
Randy Fender, Backwoods Cult Leader
Random Cult Members

　

　
PROMPT CONFORMITY: Ottie is a cat who also happens to be a lady.

　

　
SYNOPSIS: Randy has plans to sacrifice Ottie in order to gain her magic powers. What he didn’t count on was Ottie tapping into her powers to fight back against the hairy cultist. The elderly kitty has an entire compound full of followers to fight off, but if anybody can do it, it’s the kitty who throws fireballs just for fun.

　

　

***DRAWING***

My next picture will be of Julian Heath, the gnome rogue protagonist from the Poison Tongue Tales short story “Ascension” (a title that will eventually change). I’m going to try and draw Julian in a way that will take up the whole page, but will also magnify his short stature. I’ve only successfully done this a handful of times, my most recent instance being with Baby from “Nail Bomb” (also from Poison Tongue Tales).

　

***PHOTOGRAPHY***

I’m normally known for taking pictures of my toys and my animals. I don’t take selfies often because I don’t like how the pictures magnify my overweight features. When I dress in my Slipknot costume for Halloween this year, I won’t mind the flashing camera so much. In fact, being overweight will probably help me look scarier than I already will be in that costume. Hehe!

　

***READING***

Now that Daniel Bryan’s memoir has been read and reviewed, it’s time to move on to a more time-sensitive piece of literature. Edward Davies, the author of Divine Intervention, encouraged me to join a group on Good Reads called Read Together, Blog Together. For the month of September, one the books under review is “So…I Met a Vampire” by Paul McAvoy. It’s a quick and short read, so the review should be up in no time at all.

　

***WRESTLING QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“I’m gonna drink a big glass of milk, eat some chocolate chip cookies, and then maybe I’ll take three Viagra.”

-The Rock mocking Kurt Angle-

Rhys Hardcore

NAME: Rhys Hardcore
AGE: 32
OCCUPATION: Capoeira Fighter
CANONS: Black Cross (movie script) and Zeromancer (novel)


I haven’t played a serious videogame since 2010, when I kept getting my ass kicked by a multi-striking lava dragon from the Nintendo DS version of Final Fantasy III. Before 2010, videogames were a huge source of creative fuel for me. One franchise I don’t talk about enough is the Tekken series. The techno music, the badass fighters, the variation in martial arts, Tekken had it all. And thus we have part of the inspiration for Rhys Hardcore, a capoeira warrior who could be a throwback to Eddy Gordo in terms of how lightning fast he was. When it comes to morals, however, Rhys Hardcore was more like Heihachi Mishima, a corporate juggernaut with iron fists and concrete nuts.

Rhys didn’t start out as such a bad guy. In the 2008 movie script Black Cross, he was just a regular capoeira master who was hired by a corporation to keep the peace between two tribes of warriors who were set to do battle in a big name arena. The capoeira fighter then known as Reis Porrada (King of Hardcore in Brazilian) was damn good at his job: whenever the tribes fought in the locker room, he beat the shit out of all of them. He didn’t beat them badly enough to hospitalize them, but just enough to teach them to follow Reis’s law.

Following this man’s law would be an even more valuable asset in the novel incarnation of Zeromancer, where the now Americanized Rhys Hardcore was a ruthless gangster with equal parts violence and shallowness. He didn’t have rivalries with other gangs. He instead declared war on people who were ugly or poor. He would throw parties with his gang in the most inconvenient places and tossed out all the undesirables before he actually set up shop.

When three lizards named Zuga Edai, XX Shiva, and Diesel Reznor refused to comply with Rhys’ orders, the three “hideous” warriors were locked in one of his dungeons and tortured until they either died from extreme pain or a broken heart. Zuga managed to get out alive, but the hell Rhys Hardcore put him through was enough to make the orc wizard into a permanent sourpuss. Nobody wanted to be around Zuga anymore. Hell, Zuga didn’t even want to be around himself anymore. Thanks, Rhys Hardcore. You’ve taught us once again that the upper 1% can do whatever the hell they want while anybody slightly beneath them is destined for a lifetime of sorrow.

Because I currently have a shortage of male villains in my archives, Rhys Hardcore will have to be assigned to that particular grouping. And why wouldn’t he be? He demands conformity from people who can’t change their circumstances and beats the shit out of them when they don’t. If the corrupt Wall Street bankers had capoeira skills, good looks, and treated every place they went to like a Miami pool party, then they would be perfect carbon copies of Rhys Hardcore. And really, isn’t perfection what we all should strive for? Shouldn’t we all just get in a big group and meld into each other until we’re all one big pool of perfection? While perfection may be nice to a lot of people, the word “perfect” is an insult to those who strive for individuality. Try telling this to Rhys Hardcore, the capoeira gangster with millions of dollars, millions of cars, and a craving for enough power to control the entire solar system (despite those planets not being terra-formed just yet).

You’ve read this far into my character analysis and are probably wondering if I created Rhys Hardcore just for the sake of having a rich whipping boy (because I’m obviously not rich myself). You’re wondering if I’m harboring any jealousy toward the top 1%. While it’d be nice to have that much disposable income, the less successful have talents and dreams of their own to where they don’t necessarily need that much money to survive. People like to look their noses down on welfare recipients while I on the other hand see untapped potential. When you tap into a source of creative fuel and it’s rich in nutrients, then the future can be a bright place for a lot of people. Rhys Hardcore doesn’t want you to tap into that potential, yet he’s more than willing to call you lazy even though he was the one who stopped you from succeeding.

So the answer to your lingering questions is no, I’m not jealous of the top 1%, because none of those people could measure up to the hype that Rhys Hardcore brings about. Rhys is the ultimate villain-sue: he knows martial arts, he has all the money in the world, and people do what he wants while those who question him are tortured and killed. If Rhys Hardcore was a real person, we’d all be fucked. His realness is the difference between the world ending slowly and naturally and the world ending in an instant cluster fuck of chaos.

　

***MOVIE DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***

RANDAL: I remember that night we went to Julie Dwyer’s funeral, you were all like, “I need to shit or get off the pot!”

DANTE: You said shit or get off the pot, not me!

RANDAL: You got all fired up about taking charge of your life and what did you do? You worked at the Quick Stop until it burned to the fucking ground!

DANTE: I took courses that broke down!

RANDAL: And then you dropped out!

DANTE: Because you stopped going!

RANDAL: Because we were just killing time with those classes! One semester we took fucking criminology, for Christ’s sake! Who the fuck are we training to be: Batman?!

-Clerks II-

Clerks II

MOVIE TITLE: Clerks II
DIRECTOR: Kevin Smith
YEAR: 2006
GENRE: Comedy
RATING: R for vulgar language and bestiality
GRADE: Pass


Dante Hicks shows up for work at the Quick Stop Convenience Store only to find out it burned to the ground after a coffee pot was negligently left on overnight. Fast forward to the present where he and his best friend Randal Graves now have jobs at a fast food restaurant. Randal still takes pleasure in screwing with the customers while Dante does what he did in the first movie and “over-compensates for having what’s basically a monkey’s job”. That, and Dante has another love triangle to take care of now that Caitlin and Veronica are gone from his life.

A comedy can only be a comedy if it’s funny. When I first saw this movie with my dad when it came out in theaters, I was laughing my ass off throughout the entire thing. It’s been twelve years since the first Clerks movie and Randal Graves still has his silver tongue. He even has an alternative ending to the Lord of the Rings movies since they’re not entertaining enough due to the constant walking scenes. He also has an interesting take on how “porch monkey” shouldn’t be a racial slur, but a normal insult.

And to top the whole thing off, for a going away party for Dante, he buys him a donkey show. If you don’t know what a donkey show is, don’t ask me, because I actually want to maintain my appetite. If it seems like I’m telling instead of showing, it’s because I want you to see these crass, but funny jokes for yourself and find your own laughter. When I was a kid, my dad used to spoil jokes for me by saying what they were before they happened on TV (because I would laugh twice that way). That drove me nuts.

In addition to being a hyena laugh comedy, Clerks II also has some serious philosophical messages that should be noted. Just like in the first movie with Caitlin and Veronica, Dante finds himself in a love triangle, but with two different women. He’s scheduled to marry a woman named Emma and go to Florida with her to get his life on the right track and start a car wash business.

Meanwhile, Dante is actually in love with his boss at the fast food joint Becky, who midway through the movie tells him that she’s pregnant. Right here it seems appropriate to quote a famous Glenn Frey song: “Are you going to stay with the one who loves you or are you going back to the one you love. Someone’s going to cry when they know they’ve lost you and someone’s going to thank their stars above.”

Which brings me to the main philosophical point the movie makes: live your life the way it makes sense to you and don’t let society’s standards dictate who you should be. Randal already knows what he wants from life: to eat free food, watch movies, insult customers, and hang out with Dante all day long, just like he did when he worked at RST Video. It’s not the most glamorous way to make a living, but it’s what Randal loves and nobody’s going to tell him he’s wrong.

Dante on the other hand is so much of a conformist that he’d rather go to Florida with Emma (who he could care less about) so that he can start a new life and be a “winner” in the eyes of the public. He doesn’t realize until the end of the movie that in making this bold move, he’s abandoning his best friend of many decades Randal and tearing him apart in the process. Dante is basically trading his individuality for a piece of the pie and part of his individuality is his longtime friendship with Randal.

A lot of Kevin Smith fans, my dad included, are firm believers that the first Clerks movie can never be topped. I respectfully disagree. When I saw this movie in 2006, I needed a good laugh due to my mental illness getting the best of me. Clerks II provided constant laughs throughout the entire movie and made me believe in life again. In fact, my horse laugh made everyone else in the movie theater laugh twice. They’d laugh once at the jokes in the movie and laugh again when they heard my own laugh. If you though that was something, wait until Clerks III comes out!

　

***MOVIE QUOTE OF THE DAY***

“I really wish you would have told me this when I first met you, that one day you were going to bail on our friendship. If I would have known you were going to flake on me a couple decades later, I wouldn’t have even bothered with your ass in the first place.”

-Randal to Dante-

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”-

Clerks

MOVIE TITLE: Clerks

GENRE: Independent Comedy

RATING: R for graphic language and sexual themes

GRADE: Pass

Convenience store clerk Dante Hicks is called into work on his day off and has to deal with a barrage of moronic customers from anti-smoking zealots to tabloid freaks to egg sorters to even two drug dealers named Jay and Silent Bob. To pass the time, Dante has philosophical pop culture conversations with his best friend Randal Graves, who works at the video store across the street. Dante’s love life is on the line as well as he contemplates keeping his loyal girlfriend Veronica or shacking up with his high school sweetheart Caitlin. All of the nasty things that happen to Dante reiterate his catchphrase “I’m not even supposed to be here today!” again and again.

Because it’s an R-rated movie, Clerks relies heavily upon crude sexual humor, the most prominent examples being the significance of the number 37 (don’t ask), Randal ordering porn movies in front of young customers, and Dante and Randal having a conversation about nudie booth janitors in front of an easily offended customer.

There’s also humor in the antics of the stupid customers who torment Dante and Randal on a frequent basis, the opening example being a Chewley’s Gum salesmen who riles up a crowd of smokers to sell more gum. Others include the “milk maids” (women who look for jugs of milk with the latest expiration date), a girl who asks for an item’s price even though the sign is right behind her, and a perverted old man who takes a porn magazine into the bathroom and dies on the toilet.

If the humor doesn’t get you laughing until your ribs hurt, it should at least make you crack a smile. As funny as this movie is, it also has a serious side to it near the end. The lesson learned from Dante’s love triangle is to choose the girl who loves him the most. It should be obvious to him, but strong crushes and even stronger memories make choosing hard.

The other lesson this film teaches is to take responsibility for your own actions. Dante was offered chances to go to college with Veronica, but instead he stuck around at the convenience store and he has to pay for that with his misery. He also gets in a fight with Randal near the end because he believed everything that went wrong that day was Randal’s fault. In short, if you’re in your 20’s, act like it. You’re not in high school anymore; you’re a man. Reckless zeal will cost you valuable opportunities.

Is it any coincidence Clerks was the breakout film for now famous director Kevin Smith? Is it also any coincidence this movie was a multiple-time award winner? How about the fact this movie earned cult classic status? If your skin is thick enough to withstand the sexual humor, give Clerks a try. I first saw this movie in 1998 when I was 13 years old. I didn’t understand a lot of the humor at first, but looking back now, there’s a reason Clerks was a staple of my youth: because it’s that damn good.

Relatable Characters

I was surfing DeviantART’s daily deviation section one day and I found a gem in the form of a critique of typical internet stories. The premise was that every story he came across on the internet had the same basic plotline: the main character was a victim and every bad thing imaginable was happening to him or her. He went on to say that bad happenings were not enough to get the reader to give a damn about the main character. Harsh tone aside, the guy who wrote this editorial actually made a good point there. The question now is, how does an author make likable characters? To my understanding, a main character, no matter what the alignment, should NOT be perfect in every way and should have qualities that the reader would find interesting such as witty dialogue, an indomitable will, or even a sweet disposition. Suppose you had a big beefy barbarian who had a special place in his heart for puppies. That would make him more interesting. What if you had a super villain who made dark jokes that actually tickled funny bones more often than offended people. That might also be a reason to care. But in order to have these things in a main character, there has to be enough narration in the prose to develop him beyond the guy who has a lot of bad shit happen to him. Short stories, particularly in the flash fiction genre, don’t always allow the space for such development. So then what, Mr. Snappy Pants? Do short story authors just fuck off from the face of the internet? Bzzt! Wrong! They do what UFC commentator Joe Rogan likes to call “fighting in a phone booth”, which means make the most of the space you’re granted. Perhaps that would mean expanding a short story beyond the 2000 or 5000 word limit. But you could get the job done. Your sanity depends on it. Judging from the aggression in the daily deviation author’s voice, you can’t afford to make huge mistakes. In that case, do as much horrible shit to your main character as possible. It may be your only chance despite going against Mr. Drill Instructor’s advice. If you need help editing your story afterwards, seek the council of someone with the disposition of a baby bunny. I’ll bet you anything that the editor you seek out will give you a set of questions to answer within the space of your prose and once you have those questions emphatically answered, everything will work out right and you may get published. While this may not have been the most entertaining blog post I’ve done, I hope it was one of the more helpful ones. In the end, that’s pretty much all that counts.

　

***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! What is your encore?! Do you anally rape my mother while pouring sugar in my gas tank?!”

-Dante Hicks from “Clerks”-