I hope you all have a terrific Sunday.
I hope you all have a terrific Sunday.
Are you going to bark all day little 3.5 doggies, or are you going to bite?
BQB here with a little green bag of a discussion about Quentin Tarantino’s 1992 film debut, “Reservoir Dogs.” What can you 3.5 aspiring writers learn from this flick? A lot.
Tarantino was the main pioneer of this type of storytelling, namely, when a writer starts at the end and works back to the beginning, rather than start from the beginning and work the story until its conclusion.
In this case, we get an introductory scene where a group of criminals are sitting down for breakfast in a diner. They trade jokes and we get a sense of each individual’s style.
Next thing you know, Mr. White (Harvey Keitel) is driving Mr. Orange (Tim Roth) to a hideout. Mr. Orange has been shot in the gut, an apparent sign that a planned diamond store heist went bad.
You’re never actually shown the heist. Most of the film takes place in a warehouse/hideout as the characters try to figure out how their heist went so wrong, why the police were waiting for them, and most importantly, which member of the crew is the rat who told the cops about the job?
From there, the film goes into flashbacks where we see bits and pieces of the escape from the heist that went wrong, as well as some past “get to know” some of the characters scenes. The film always returns to the warehouse as the characters move the story forward, trying to figure out who did the crew wrong.
Tarantino could have done this a different way. He could have started with the backstory of the characters in the beginning, put the heist that goes wrong in the middle, and have the fighting over who the rat is at the end.
Wouldn’t that have been boring though? Instead, Tarantino chooses to put the most exciting part first. You jump right into the action – a blood soaked back seat, a pained Mr. Orange screaming out in terror about his impending demise, a calm Mr. White driving a getaway car while holding Mr. Orange’s hand, telling him he’ll be ok.
Your mind immediately asks the question, “How did this heist go so wrong?” And now you want to sit back and let Uncle Quentin tell you how.
Doing More with Less
This was the first film Tarantino directed. Sure, he had a bigger budget than any of us indie writers, but still, he didn’t have much compared to other big name films of the day.
Even so, he did a lot with very little. Consider:
Setting Your Story to a Soundtrack
Tarantino invents a 1970s music station that everyone is listening to throughout the film. It makes for a retro vibe, and Tarantino was surely trying to pay homage to the cheesy Beretta style crime dramas of his youth.
Playing “Little Green Bag” as the criminals walk down the street gives us a sense that these are some hardcore pricks.
Meanwhile, in an iconic scene, Mr. Blonde tortures a police officer set to the sounds of “Stuck in the Middle with You.” This song is a happy song, one that makes you want to smile and dance…but it shows what a psycho Mr. Blonde is, namely, that he is enjoying dancing to this happy beat while he’s cutting off a cop’s ear and setting him on fire.
Most people would never do such a thing. The few that would usually know that this would be no time to dance. Mr. Blonde is a special kind of crazy.
Of course, you don’t have the rights to use popular songs like Tarantino did. However, I find that my writing is helped when I listen to songs related to time periods I am writing in. It puts me in the mood.
How Nonlinear Storytelling Can Fix Plot Holes
Suppose you are a hardened criminal fresh off a botched diamond heist that went wrong due to a rat. Who would you immediately suspect?
If you said, “The New Guy,” congratulations. You’re acting like a stylish, early 1990s diamond robber.
The irony is the film goes for most of its length with the characters fighting over who the rat is. We aren’t told there is a new guy until we get towards the end. Then we discover Mr. Orange is the new guy and also an undercover cop. Spoiler? Shut up, you’ve had since 1992 to watch this thing.
But that’s the thing. You’re not a stylish early 1990s diamond robber, so you weren’t thinking like one. Maybe “the new guy” might have popped into your head, but you don’t find out until the end that there was a new guy. Once you do, you realize the whole crew is apparently very, very, ridiculously stupid. I mean, they knew he was the new guy. Why didn’t any of them go, “Hey, I think the new guy might be the rat…”
Had Tarantino followed a linear format and told us up front that Mr. Orange was the new guy, he’d of been the obvious rat suspect, giving away the story’s most vexing question.
With this film and its followup, “Pulp Fiction,” Tarantino inspired a generation of filmmakers and writers, challenging them to abandon the rules in favor of coolness, style, and better yet, to grab the viewer’s attention and draw them in.
Think about writing like dating. If you are super rich and have a ten foot King Kong penis, you might want to drop that information sooner rather than later. If you make your date wait until the tenth date to find out your most amazing qualities, she might get bored by then and switch you off, like your audience will do with your writing.
In other words, Tarantino dares us to start with the ice cream first, and then we’ll work our way to the meat and potatoes. Give us that bloody gunshot victim screaming in pain in the backseat right away, and then we’ll stick around to fight out how he got into such a terrible state.
You can do this too, if you dare. Begin with the most awesome part of your story, then explain how we got there.
I always hate it when Hollywood puts a handsome actor in ugly face.
BQB here with a review of the snoozefest that is “Gold.”
There’s gold in them there hills 3.5 readers…or is there?
Matthew McConaughey plays Kenny Wells, the heir of the respectable Washoe Mining Company, started by his grandfather and built into something by his father. Alas, Kenny proves to not be as great as these men. He’s a bit of a screw up, a total drunk, a loser, not that bright, balding, has a paunch belly and is kind of ugly.
But he tries. He really tries. Alas, failure follows him everywhere. Just as the family business is about to collapse, he risks what little he has left on the highly speculative work of Mike Acosta (Edgar Ramirez), a prospector who is certain he has found a massive gold deposit in Indonesia.
In order to cash on in this find, Kenny will have to rustle up cash quick. In order to keep it, he will have to fend off any number of 1980s Gordon Gecko style Wall Street robber barons.
Oh and he loves his wife, Kay (Bryce Dallas Howard). As an ugly man with a hot wife, Kenny feels a constant need to impress his lady with his business and money making skills, yet sadly, too often turns a deaf ear to Kay’s entreaties that she doesn’t really want any of that, she just happy with his ugly, broke ass just the way it is.
Overall, the film moves slow and will likely put you to sleep. I mean, there’s some lovely Indonesian landscapes, some interesting backroom deals, but ultimately, the film has the unenviable task of trying to explain how the mining business works and not only that, but to make it interesting.
I will say I took some knowledge from the film. Mining is apparently a very tough and speculative business. Mining companies can take samples, do studies, get a general hunch that a certain valuable substance might be in the ground somewhere, yet ultimately, they never know for sure until they start drilling and that requires raising obscene amounts of money without any sort of guarantee that the drilling will lead to anything. Often, these digging expeditions go nowhere, leaving the investors without a pot to pee in.
I just wish that Hollywood would stop hiring good looking people to play uggos. Somewhere out there, there was an actual ugly actor with real balding hair and a real ugly face and a real paunch belly who would have loved playing a down on his luck gold prospector.
STATUS: Shelf-worthy, but you know, if you miss it, you won’t miss much. This is one of those Oscar light films where actors get together to show off their chops in the hopes that critical praise will be forthcoming.
I had the following conversation, more or less, with a kid who discovered Pee Wee Herman while browsing Netflix:
KID: Why is this guy so…I don’t know.
KID: Yeah, he’s so stupid.
ME: He’s like an adult who hasn’t figured out he’s an adult yet so he acts like a kid.
(ME IN MY MIND): Crap. Should I just tell the kid to turn this off? I really don’t want this kid thinking it is ok to talk to adults who think they are kids. Adults who think they are kids are freaking perverts.
KID: Was this a long time ago?
KID: Did you watch this when you were a kid?
ME: Yes. All the kids loved to watch Pee Wee when I was a kid. We would watch Pee Wee every Saturday morning and scream real loud whenever he said the secret word.
ME IN MY MIND: Yeah, because it was a more innocent time when there wasn’t a freaking thirty year old who has yet to grow up trying to lure kids into his weirdo bachelor pad on every street corner. Or perhaps there was just as many adult man child perverts back then but the media didn’t report on it as much because the TV only had like three channels to watch in those days.
KID: He’s funny.
ME: Yeah he is. Hey, just an FYI this is all make-believe. If you ever see an adult who acts like a kid, run away real fast and don’t talk to them ok? Because adults who act like kids are super weird and they might hurt you because they’re so stupid ok?
KID: OK. How old is Pee Wee?
ME: I don’t know. I think he just stays the same age forever.
KID: Is he still alive?
ME: Yes. He just made a movie. He looks the same. He probably exercises and eats his vegetables and colors his hair and stuff.
KID: Why isn’t his show on now?
ME: He got busy.
ME IN MY MIND: He did a terrible thing. Also, whereas in my day there were a plethora of children’s shows in which neighborhood children would visit the homes of grown adult men they weren’t related to, ranging from Pee Wee, to Mr. Wizard to Mr. Rogers, today, you just don’t see shows like that, because the safest thing a parent can do is chain their kid up so no one gets the kid and especially never allow the kid to visit the home of a random adult and especially not without supervision.
FINAL THOUGHT: I watched “Pee Wee’s Big Adventure” with the kid in question and it holds up. It was so funny back then and it is equally hilarious today. I feel bad that Pee Wee ruined his career by doing what he did in a porn theater. I mean, seriously, all that money he made, he couldn’t afford a home VHS? Seriously.
Just a slob like one of us, just a stranger on the bus, trying to make his way home?
I know it’s a Joan Osborne song from the 1990s but still, it’s a good daily discussion question, 3.5 readers. What if God was one of us? Do you think he’d be happy to be one of us or would he be sad?
Discuss. By the way, if one of you is God, you have to tell me…and if we could talk that would be awesome. I have questions.
As they say in Gaffney, this review is for people who have been watching the show from the beginning and are all caught up. Otherwise, the SPOILERS will ruin it for you.
BQB here with a review of “House of Cards-Season 5.”
I thought this show had jumped the shark a couple seasons back where Frank and the fictional Russian President had a personal showdown in the desert but I was wrong. The shark not only jumped this season, it did backflips.
Here are my observations:
#1 – Surprise Murders/Attacks
The show got a lot of bang for its buck when Frank tossed Zoe in front of that moving subway car with literally no warning. It made for great, disturbing viewing and heightened the stakes, letting you know the show could turn on the drop of a time.
Sadly, now they always seem to be trying to recreate that moment. Frank pushes Kathy down a flight of stairs at random in the midst of a conversation with her. Claire kills Yates with her vagina. Speaking of…
#2 – Claire Did Not Kill a Man with Her Vagina
I thought maybe she had as Yates died mid coitus. Maybe she had some sort of top secret CIA device inside her cooter but nope, it was poison (in his drink, not in the vagina.) Still, another surprise murder. I mean, not really because Yates had threatened the Underwoods and that’s never a good move for your health but I think the sex part was to trick you into thinking Claire was going to let him off the hook but nope, she just wanted one more turn on that penis before Yates bit the big one.
#3 – Elysium Fields
I had mixed thoughts on that. First, it was funny. Second, I think we all assume the rich and powerful get together to divide up and rule the country/world but still, to see it unfold brought the show to a different place. It was creative and fun though.
#4 – Claire Becomes Vice-President/President
I never really bought that. It could happen but usually if the First Lady is an asset, they just keep her and put her out there more and then try to add a VP who is also an asset. In other words, if someone is on your team and scoring points for you, then you’ve got them, so you just add another person to score points.
#5 – Frank Frames Himself
That was way out of left field and total bullshit. The whole premise of the show is that Frank does evil shit and then does more evil shit to get himself off the hook, that if you are willing to do the most evil shit then you will always win in politics. He loves power and his own ego so that he’d somehow be willing to hand his wife the presidency and take a powder while she rules seems highly unlikely.
#6 – Claire Acknowledges the Audience
Frank has always had his little asides, breaking the fourth wall to let us in on what he’s up to. Now Claire is doing it, so to me, that seems like the show is moving towards a final showdown between Frank and Claire. I kind of yearn for the early days when Frank was the boss and Claire his evil consigliere. That dynamic just seemed to make more sense.
#7 “I’m Fucking You Because I Hate You”
That lady whose husband died so Frank could have his liver knew Doug did it all along and had sex with him because she hated him? Please. I’ve had women completely dump me and abandon all contact because I left the toilet seat up or forgot to wash a dish so I can’t imagine the vengeance a woman would have if a liver was involved.
8 – Real TV Reporters
Does it ever bother you when real TV reporters make cameos in which they “report” on Frank? If they’re able to act that well, makes you wonder how much of the real news involves acting.
9 – It’s getting boring.
I try not to get too deep into the weeds on some of the more complex conspiracy theories. At this point if they say it happened then it happened. I can’t keep track of it all.
10 – It should wrap up soon.
I feel like they’ve gone as far as they can go. It should probably end with Claire besting Frank or maybe they both take each other out in one last Mr and Mrs Smith style battle royale to the finish.
Your thoughts, 3.5 readers?
Dirk and Natalya had settled into a cozy, private bedroom in the Imperial Honcho’s estate. Together, they eased back onto the bed and engaged in a rousing game of big league tonsil hockey.
“Oh Mr. Smegma,” Natalya cried as she ran her hands through her new lover’s hair.
“Please. Call me Dirk.”
“Oh Dirk! Your scent it’s so…manly.”
“Nothing but one hundred percent Eau de Dirk, baby,” Dirk said. “I find that the more cologne I put on, the more I mask my naturally macho odor and when I do that, the ladies are left disappointed.”
“I’m sure you do all you can to avoid being a disappointment,” Natalya said.
“In life and in the bedroom, baby,” Dirk said as he went in for another kiss, only to be rebuffed when Natalya pressed her finger up against his lips.
“Hold that thought, darling. I must tinkle.”
“I understand,” Dirk said. “You wouldn’t be the first woman to lose bladder control in my presence and I doubt you’ll be the last. Do hurry back my dear.”
As Natalya retreated to the bathroom, Kendra squawked in Dirk’s ear. “Dirk! What are you doing?!”
“Uh,” Dirk whispered into a tiny microphone implanted in his shirt collar. “What does it sound like I’m doing? I’m about to get my pickle tickled, duh!”
“Have you placed the tracker on the Imperial Honcho’s toilet yet?” Kendra asked.
“Not now, K-Diddy,” Dirk said. “I’ve got a piece of fabulously wealthy Russian cooze to attend to.”
“We’re on a tight schedule here!” Kendra said.
“Oh I know it’s going to be very tight,” Dirk said. “But don’t worry, I’ll squeeze it in.”
“Pervert,” Kendra said. “Do I really have to go over the mission particulars with you?”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” Dirk said. “But you will anyway…”
“Damn right I will,” Kendra said. “As we speak, Skippy Jr. is waiting in the septic tank. We have twenty minutes before the guards on our payroll bury the tank so they can avoid being caught. You need to get to that toilet, mark it, get the hell out of there and leave Skippy Jr. enough time to chow down on the Honcho, and exit out of the tank just in time to be snatched by the skyhook.”
“Which leaves me roughly five minutes to plant my skyhook in some snatch,” Dirk said. “Plenty of time.”
“Five minutes?” Kendra asked. “I wouldn’t brag about that.”
“Bshh bzzt,” Dirk said. “Oh no, Special-K, you’re breaking up…”
“Don’t you cut me off, Smegma,” Kendra said.
“Bzzt bshhk,” Dirk said. “Oh my God I’m just going to have to enjoy some meaningless, gratuitous sex with a beautiful woman and then go save the day.”
“Dirk,” Kendra said. “Gamble with your own life all you want, but you’re putting Skippy Jr. at risk.”
“Skippy Jr.?” Dirk asked. “Who cares? He’s just a dumb alligator. If we lose him we can just get that crazy professor to make some more.”
A third voice entered Dirk’s earpiece. “Raarga.”
Dirk’s eyes widened. “Oh…hey Skippy Jr., how are you doing buddy?”
“Gee whiz,” Dirk said. “I didn’t know this was a party line.”
“Don’t mind him, Skippy Jr.,” Kendra said. “He knows not what he does.”
The bathroom door opened. Natalya stepped out. She had changed into a skimpy, silky piece of lingerie. She’d let her hair down and removed her shoes.
“I’m sorry I took so long, Dirk,” Natalya said. “I had to change into something more comfortable.”
Dirk gulped as he checked out Natalya’s body. “Mind? No, I don’t have a mind at all.”
“You’ve lost your mind,” came Kendra’s voice into the earpiece. “You think women just walk around with a sexy outfit to change into? The bitch is probably a spy.”
Dirk ignored Kendra and patted a spot on the bed next to him. The lady sat down, kissed Dirk passionately, then lifted her leg up into the air, landing the foot on Dirk’s right shoulder.
“Tell me, Dirk,” Natalya said. “Are you a leg man?”
“I’m actually an ass man,” Dirk replied. “Though I’ve never been one to sneeze at a pair of getaway sticks as lovely as these.”
“Getaway sticks?” Natalya asked.
“Just a fun term we use for legs in the U.S.,” Dirk said. “Because they’re a couple of sticks a woman can use to get away.”
Natalya used her foot to push on the side of Dirk’s head until he laid back on the bed.
“I love my legs, don’t you?” Natalya asked.
“Oh sweetheart,” Dirk said. “I love everything about you.”
“Gag me,” came Kendra’s voice.
“Tell me, Dirk,” Natalya said. “Do you enjoy the taste of a woman?”
“Meh,” Dirk said. “I prefer to receive than give, baby, but I’m always down with a little cunnilingus if the favor is returned.”
Natalya straddled Dirk’s face, leaving a panty clad vagina to land right on his face.
“Oh,” Dirk said. “Hello there, that’s quite a…mmpphh!”
“Dirk,” came Kendra’s voice. “I’m reviewing Natayla Snatchatova’s file and it’s no good. You need to get out of there right now.”
Natalya pushed herself further down onto Dirk’s face, leaving the agent so he could barely breathe. “Mmpph!”
“Her father is Anatoly Popov’s number one campaign contributor,” Kendra said. “She’s involved in all sorts of black market dealings…”
“How’s that, my love?” Natalya asked.
Dirk’s muffled cries for help grew more serious. “Mmmph!”
“She’s a top hit woman for the FSB,” Kendra said. “Interpol suspects of her murdering fifty men with her vagina alone.”
Dirk grabbed hold of Natalya’s legs and pushed up with all his might. Finally, he gasped for air and was able to speak. “Do…you…expect me to…lick?”
“Muah ha ha!” Natalya said. “No, Mr. Smegma. I expect you to die!”
Natalya clamped her legs down around Dirk’s head, leaving the hero feeling as though his cranium was trapped in a silky smooth vice. He gasped for air as he stood up. He flailed about the room but it was of no use, as Natalya refused to release her snatchtastic grip.
Dirk ran into a wall, hoping the blow would knock his assailant off, but she simply grinder her lady business into the agent’s face harder.
“Dirk?” Kendra asked. “Are you alright? Jesus, you’re literally going to be killed by a pussy, aren’t you? No surprise there.”
Completely blinded by vagina, both on a personal but more importantly, on a physical level, Dirk felt around the room until he found the bathroom door.
“Muah ha ha!” Natalya cried. “Die, Mr. Smega! Die by the lips of my vatrushka!”
Dirk stumbled into the bathroom. He pulled a small black box out of his pocket and flipped a switch, causing a light on the device to blink red. He then tossed the gadget into the toilet.
Crack! Dirk thrashed his attacker into the mirror, smashing it into pieces. Natalya was unfazed, her sole focus on murdering Dirk with her beaver.
“Poor Mr. Smegma,” Natalya said as she tightened the grip of her legs around the back of Dirk’s neck. “I’m so sorry you must leave but you must admit darling, there are worse ways to go.”
The toilet rumbled.
“Dirk,” came Kendra’s voice. “Please tell me you didn’t…”
Dirk grabbed the woman and pushed her away from his face with all his might. Natalya was strong, causing Dirk’s muscle’s to strain as he pushed.
Boom! The toilet exploded, sending porcelain shards everywhere. Dirk managed to hurl the woman off of his face just in time for her to land inside…the jaws of a hungry toilet gator.
Skippy Jr. was just a big as his father – fifteen feet long and over a thousand pounds. His sheer bulk pushed Dirk right out of the bathroom, leaving him to land on the floor. As he caught his breath, he could hear Natalya’s blood curdling screams, followed by the sound of bones snapping between a pair of gator jaws.
“That is the absolute last time anyone ever talks me into giving a little mouth to the south!” Dirk declared.
Skippy Jr. waddled out of the bathroom. “Raarga.”
Dirk patted the gator on the head. “That’ll do, gator. That’ll do.”
“Dirk,” Kendra said. “Please don’t tell me you just wasted the one and only tracker you had on a toilet not being used by the Imperial Honcho.”
“OK,” Dirk said. “I will not tell you that.”
A fist pounded on the bedroom door. “This is the Imperial Honcho’s Select Guard! What’s going on?”
“Oh,” Dirk said. “Hey there, fellas. Everything’s fine.”
“We heard strange noises,” the guard said.
“Oh yeah,” Dirk said. “You know me. I can get kind of wild in the sack.”
“We’re coming in,” the guard said.
“What are you going to do now, doofus?” Kendra asked.
“Now?” Dirk asked as he climbed onto Skippy Jr.’s back. “I’m going to improvise.”
A set of twin jet engines propelled the metal container downward. Once the box was 20,000 feet above the surface of the earth, it broke apart, leaving the gigantic alligator inside free to twist in the wind.
“You need to roll fifteen feet to the right,” Kendra advised through the earpiece in Skippy Jr.’s ear.
“Raarga,” Skippy replied as he obeyed the command.
“I’m worried about Dirk, Skippy Jr.,” Kendra said.
“I know, I shouldn’t,” Kendra said. “But it’s like he refuses to grow up. Sure, he’s having a good time chasing tail now but if he never grows up and finds a stable relationship, he’ll eventually grow old and die alone.”
“Raarga, raarga,” Skippy Jr. said as he zoomed downward, scaring the crap out of a flock of birds with his hideous face.
“Well, that’s awfully presumptuous of you, Skippy Jr.,” Kendra said. “No, I’m not saying I want to be the woman who fixes him. I prefer my men to not be broken when I find them, thank you very much.”
“You see the way I look at him?” Kendra asked. “You are imagining things.”
“Of course I might stare at him once in awhile while he’s not looking,” Kendra said. “He’s a very good looking man but that doesn’t mean I want to hook up with a serial philanderer. Do you know how many women he’s been with?”
“Add a hundred to that and you’re in the ballpark.”
“I’m sure he is compensating for something,” Kendra said. “But I hardly need a man whose genitalia is a walking petri dish of disaster in my life. You missed the point.”
“The point is someday there will be a brave woman who doesn’t care how much strange has touched Dirk’s junk and I fear he’ll be so obsessed with finding his next female conquest that he won’t see what he has right in front of him until it’s too late.”
“Will you stop it? I’m not talking about me. At all. That will never happen.”
“OK good talk, but time to get your head in the game. Assume the position.”
Skippy moved his head downward.
“Brace for impact in 3…2…1…touchdown!”
Splash! A wave of dirty poop water poured up out of the Imperial Honcho’s septic tank as Skippy Jr. landed deep within his intended target.
“You OK buddy?”
“OK. Hang tight. As soon as Dirk comes up for air, I’ll let you know.”
In the back of a military cargo plane, Dirk’s handler, an attractive woman by the name of Kendra McKenna, studied the plane’s coordinates on a tablet computer. She wore a pair of red glasses and a black leather jacket.
“Dirk,” the woman said into a microphone clipped to her lapel. “We’re going to be over the Imperial Honcho’s septic tank in five minutes. The goons we bribed only have a ten minute window before they have to bury the tank again, so stop screwing around and get to work.”
Hearing no answer, the woman shook her head. “Pilot?”
“Yes, Miss McKenna?” came the pilot’s voice through the woman’s earpiece.
“Be prepared to dump cargo on my mark,” the woman replied.
“Affirmative,” the pilot said.
Kendra walked to the center of the cargo hold where she found a giant metal container. Stenciled on the side were the words, “SKIPPY JR.”
“You ok in there, Skippy Jr.?” Kendra asked as she knocked on the container.
A few silent moments passed before the container’s inhabitant responded. “Raarga.”
“Good boy,” Kendra said. “Prepare for deployment. Upon landing, standby in the Imperial Honcho’s septic tank and await further orders.”
“Raarga,” came the voice of Skippy Jr. from inside the container.
“I know,” Kendra said. “But you know how Dirk gets around exotic poon.”
“Raarga, raarga,” Skippy Jr. said.
“Bros before hoes?” Kendra asked. “Sigh. You men are all alike.”
Kendra slapped the container. “Good luck, Skippy Jr.”
Kendra strapped herself into a chair attached to the plane. “What do you mean you don’t need luck?”
“Oh, you’ve got skills, huh?”
“Well, good luck just the same, buddy.”
Kendra spoke into her microphone. “Open cargo bay doors.”
“Affirmative,” the pilot replied.
A red light blinked and a buzzer blared. The plane’s cargo bay doors opened up and the metal container moved down a conveyor built until finally, it fell out of the plane.
“Skippy Jr.,” Kendra said into her microphone. “You got your ears on?”