Tag Archives: writing

May 31 2017
Leave a comment
Toilet Gator

Toilet Gator – Network News One Transcript Number Six

presentation01

Network News One – Transcript #6

KURT MANLEY: Witnesses on the scene report that Congressman Rosenschluntz flipped the House Chamber the bird, then stormed off in a huff, mumbling, and this is a direct quote, “If you won’t send any pork to my state then you can all smooch my butt and call it ice cream. In other news, civil war continues to rage in No-One-Can-Pronounce-This-Shitty-Country’s-Name-istan. Here in the studio to discuss this conflict are two pundits, Network News One’s very own Insane Talking Head Number One and Insane Talking Head Number Two. Lady and gentleman, it’s good to have you with us this morning.

(The screen splits three ways. Kurt’s head appears in the middle. Talking Head Number One, a man, appears on the left hand side of the screen while Talking Head Number Two, a woman, appears on the right.)

TALKING HEAD NUMBER ONE: Hello, Kurt.

TALKING HEAD NUMBER TWO: Pleasure to be here.

KURT MANLEY: Talking Heads, I have to say, this whole mess in that country the name of which no one can pronounce is really heating up. Do you think cooler heads will ever prevail?

TALKING HEAD NUMBER ONE: I do not, Kurt. In fact, even though I literally know nothing about the topic whatsoever, I’m going to start speak louder and louder until finally I begin screaming at the top of my lungs while I flail my arms to and fro in the breeze like a madman because I have nothing useful to offer on this matter Kurt, but it is still very important that the people at home believe that I have a very strong opinion on this subject!

KURT MANLEY: I believe you do. What about you, Talking Head Number Two? Do you have a strong opinion on the war?

(Talking Head Number Two bangs her fist down on her desk.)

TALKING HEAD NUMBER TWO: Yes I do, Kurt! I have a very strong opinion on the war. In fact, my opinion is stronger and better than Talking Head Number Two’s opinion!

TALKING HEAD NUMBER ONE: You take that back you incompetent hag!

TALKING HEAD NUMBER TWO: Never, you limp wristed sissy boy!”

KURT MANLEY: Oh, is this the part where you both get in a big fight and everyone at home gets mad because they can’t understand what either of you are saying while you’re talking over one another?

TALKING HEAD NUMBER ONE: It sure is, Kurt. Even a brainless bimbo like Talking Head Number Two would realize that.

TALKING HEAD NUMBER TWO: You are a sad, pathetic little man, Talking Head Number One. I’d say I pity you, but I pity your wife more, as I have no doubt she hasn’t received a proper lay in years.
TALKING HEAD NUMBER ONE: Floozy!

TALKING HEAD NUMBER TWO: Butt face!

KURT MANLEY: Whoa, nelly! Break it up, you two. Now seriously, Talking Head Number One, what is your opinion on the war?”

TALKING HEAD NUMBER ONE: I’m glad you asked, Kurt. I think America is the greatest nation in the world, a beacon of freedom that all people who yearn to be free can look to in times of crisis. President Stugotz must assemble a broad, international peacekeeping force to separate the rival factions until this situation simmers down.

TALKING HEAD NUMBER TWO: Oh please, Talking Head Number One! Your proctologist just called and he said to pull your head out of your ass because that’s his job.

TALKING HEAD NUMBER ONE: Bite me, wench.

TALKING HEAD NUMBER TWO: I doubt there’s much to bite, loser.

KURT MANLEY: OK, you two. Talking Head Number Two, your opinion, please.

TALKING HEAD NUMBER TWO: Thank you, Kurt. President Stugotz should steer way, way clear from this one. Like as far away from he can as possible. I mean, sure, it’s sad that way over on the far side of the world, in some shitty country whose name no one can pronounce, people are getting rocket propelled grenades up their butts and machetes slashing up against their taints but really, who are we to get involved in this? You really want to put the President in the position where he has to go up to some poor family and say, “I’m sorry, but your son just got shot because I sent him to fight a war in some Godforsaken hellhole? I think not.

KURT MANLEY: A fair point. Rebuttal, Talking Head Number One?

TALKING HEAD NUMBER ONE: Wow. That was actually a great point. I mean, I hate to compliment Talking Head Number One, largely because she’s a dried up old cow with more spiderwebs in her vagina than a mummy’s tomb but I have to hand it to her on this one. She has convinced me. I no longer believe that President Stugotz should get American forces involved in this conflict.

TALKING HEAD NUMBER TWO: Oh and what, Talking Head Number Two? You’d be happy to just sit back and let all of those little kids in that shitty country die? “Oh look at me! I’m Talking Head Number One and I’m just sitting around, pulling my puny little pud, while a bunch of kids are dying!”

TALKING HEAD NUMBER ONE: But, you just said…

TALKING HEAD NUMBER TWO: I know what I just said, you dumb horse’s ass! If I told you to jump off a bridge, would you do that too?

TALKING HEAD NUMBER ONE: Why you no good, dirty rotten cu…

KURT MANLEY: Whoa! Alright, let’s cut these two off before we get fined. I mean, we don’t have many standards here at Network News One, but we do have some, and throwing out a “See You Next Tuesday” is not one of them.

(Kurt shuffles some papers.)

KURT MANLEY: Good morning, USA. If you’re just joining us, America’s Shitting Nightmare continues. People across the country and around the world are holding in their shits, or pooping into trash bags, or fertilizing their lawns. As for your favorite anchorman, aka yours truly, he prefers to drop his waste into neat, tidy little packages that he then mails to the anchormen of rival, lesser networks. Sadly, that’s the closest to greatness those dweebs will ever get.

(Kurt changes camera angles.)

KURT MANLEY: Meanwhile, the good people of Sitwell, Florida are not sitting well on the bowl, which means they aren’t shitting well either. We take you to one of our very own Hot Ass Blonde Chicks with Big Titties with a breaking development in the Toilet Killer saga. Hot Ass Chick with Blonde Titties, are you there?

(Natalie Brock appears on screen wearing her blonde wig and stuffed bra. She stands in front of the Network News One van.)

NATALIE BROCK: I’m here, Kurt. A shocking development in the case. Yesterday, there was a shake up in the investigative power structure. Mayor Beaumont Dufresne, the head honcho down here in Sitwell, took the steps necessary to put the Sitwell Police Department under the domain of Grover County Sheriff Buck Hammond. That leaves Police Chief Cole Walker out of a job and off of this investigation.

KURT MANLEY: I’m told that’s not all?

NATALIE BROCK: Far from it. President Stugotz has even gotten involved.

KURT MANLEY: Yes. In fact, the President was in Miami this morning, where he was giving a joint press conference with Florida Governor Brian Graysmith. This is, of course, the first time the Governor has addressed the press corps since his recent incident involving a ridiculous amount of hookers.

(Cut to a podium. GOVERNOR GRAYSMITH addresses the crowd of reporters while PRESIDENT STUGOTZ looks on.)

GOVERNOR GRAYSMITH: Thank you everyone. Thank you. I realize that everyone is very upset that the Toilet Killer remains on the loose, especially because that means that everyone is scared, well, shitless, no pun intended. I would like to thank President Stugotz for coming here to make sure that the investigation is running smoothly. We will now take your questions. However, I’d like to remind you all that we are here to talk about the Toilet Killer investigation and not about the ridiculous amount of hookers found in my hotel suite. OK. Who has a question? Yes, you Gary.

GARY NELSON, SUNSHINE STATE TRIBUNE: Yes, Governor, can you give us a ball park figure on how many hookers were in your hotel room?

GOVERNOR GRAYSMITH: What did I just say? Ix-nay on the pokers-hay, Ary-gay!

(Cut to KURT MANLEY in studio.)

KURT MANLEY: Later, President Stugotz gave a stirring address. Some are already likening it to Roosevelt’s “Day of Infamy” speech.

(Cut to PRESIDENT STUGOTZ at podium.)

PRESIDENT STUGOTZ: My fellow Americans, there was once a period in our nation’s great history when a man’s private time on the commode was sacred. It belonged to him and him alone. I can tell you, when I was a boy, everyone knew that when dear old Dad picked up a newspaper and walked into the bathroom, he was not to be disturbed, for he was a hard-working man and he had earned the right to evacuate his bowels in peace and comfort.

The sanctity of the bathroom extended to everyone. Mom, Grandma, Grandpa, sons, daughters. If you needed to shit, then that was your time to shit, and no one would bother. It did not matter if you were needed right away. The world was willing to wait until the very last pinch, the much needed wipe, and the ever so satisfying flush were complete.

Bathroom rights even carried over to the workplace. Whether you were just another fella on the assembly line, or the CEO of a major corporation, you could enter a bathroom and people knew well enough to leave you alone. There was never a problem that was so important that it couldn’t wait until you were off the pot.

Sadly, at some point, America lost its way. Cell phones, computers, tablets and technology began cutting into our bathroom time. People want to talk to you now…right now…and they don’t care if you’ve got a brown log trying to make its way out of your heiney hole. People watch movies and do work on their computers while they are shitting. The sanctity of the shit is no longer honored. It’s disgraceful, people. It really is. It’s disgraceful.

And I’m not just the one who is saying this, by the way. Believe me. A lot of people are saying this. Why, just the other a friend of mine came up to me and said, “President Vinny Stugotz, do you know what is a shame?” and I said, “No, what?” and my friend said, “That people can’t shit in peace and quiet anymore.” It’s a shame, folks. It really is. It’s a shame. A big time shame.

We’ve put up with a lot of interruptions to our shits over the years, but if you ask me, these toilet murders are the last straw. No one, and I mean no one, deserves to be gruesomely murdered to death while they are copping a squat. Life is too short and much too precious to end on the can with the stench of doody stink wafting up your nose. If it’s not in the Constitution that no one should be eviscerated while they’re trying to squeeze the cheese, then it should be. Really, it should be. Believe me. I just told my super hot wife, who by the way, is a lot hotter than all of your wives, that I’m going to write that into the Constitution with a magic marker. “Amendment Nine Hundred and Whatever – No one dies while squeezing the cheese.”

People, it is time for us as Americans to get back to our sacred shitting roots. Since the inception of our glorious union, great men have come and gone and do you know what they all had in common. Seriously, does anyone know? They all took shits. Each and every one of them.

Abraham Lincoln? He shit many times while he was preserving the union, of that fact, you can be assured. And George Washington? He took a shit just before a crossed the Delaware and he was not about to allow himself to remain in intestinal discomfort just to make those dirty British red coats happy.

General George S. Patton took cast iron shits. I don’t even know how he did it. The man was not just as tough as nails. No. He actually ate handfuls of nails and then shat them out into fully formed, cast iron bricks. The Nazis shit their pants when they saw Old Blood and Guts coming, let me tell you.

Yes, for as long as there has been an America, there have been people taking shits but today, the right to shit in a safe and comfortable environment has been threatened by a madman, a psychopath, a complete and total sad-sack loser face who, quite frankly, I would not be surprised to learn, voted for that raging bull dyke that I totally wiped the floor with during the presidential election. Nanny nanny boo boo.

My friends, fear not. To those who are at home, cowering in a cower, too scared to drop a nugget, I say to you that there is no reason to worry. Your President is on the job and I promise you that I will move Heaven and Earth and bring every last resource within the Federal government at my disposal to bear on finding, capturing, and bringing the Toilet Killer to justice. We will make it safe for you to go to the bathroom again, we will make it safe to fart again and yes, as God as my witness, we will make shitting great again!

(Cut to KURT MANLEY in studio, wearing a red “Make Shitting Great Again” hat with gold lettering.)

KURT MANLEY: FYI to our viewers at home, they can purchase a “Make Shitting Great Again” hat at President Stugotz’ campaign website store. It’s the perfect item to show your support for our Commander-in-Chief’s efforts to make shitting great again. I think mine’s quite fetching, don’t you, Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties?

(Cut to NATALIE BROCK. She faces the camera. Suddenly, one of the melons drops out of her bra.)

KURT MANLEY: Um, I think you just lost one of your titties.

(NATALIE BROCK looks at camera with a “deer in the headlights” expression.)

NATALIE BROCK: Sorry, Kurt. That’s the last time I go to a bodega plastic surgeon for cheap implants, let me tell you.

KURT MANLEY: Oh, I always tell myself that but then I always end up going to a bodega plastic surgeon anyway. No one can beat their prices or sell me better jerky.

NATALIE BROCK: Right. Anyway Kurt, my sources indicate that President Stugotz personally intervened with the case, having Agent Sharon Walker pulled off the case so that Agent Gordon Bishop could be in charge.

KURT MANLEY: That makes perfect sense. The penis is the source of all logic and only someone with a penis could possibly solve this complex caper.

NATALIE BROCK: Well, here’s a major development. Agent Bishop’s command of the investigation did not last long as authorities say he died in some kind of bizarre sewer accident last night.

KURT MANLEY: My stars, this story is like a big bowl of milk and I’m a frisky kitty, just lapping it all up until my belly is full.

NATALIE BROCK: Sheriff Hammond told reporters, and I quote, “We don’t know what happened. He was probably blown up by sewer gas or some shit. We don’t know why he was in the sewer either so go away and stop bothering me.”

KURT MANLEY: Sounds like a real man of action. Keep up the good work, Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties. Oh and go fix your titty.

NATALIE BROCK: Will do, Kurt.

(KURT looks at a different camera).

KURT MANLEY: That’ll do it for this hour. Coming up next, is there a brand of fabric softener that can make your piss razer blades? And by that, I don’t mean it will give you a burning sensation but rather, actual little sharp pieces of steel will emanate from your urethra during the urination process. Better put a hold on that next load of laundry and we’ll tell you which brand do avoid after sports and weather but first, these commercial messages.

ANNOUNCER: The hottest blonde chicks! The biggest titties! Oh yeah, and occasionally, we report the news and shit!

Tagged ,
May 31 2017
Leave a comment
Toilet Gator

Toilet Gator – Chapter 75

presentation01
“I’m telling you…it was an alligator.”

Hammond was furious, and chewed Rusty out royally as deputies and FBI agents scoured the scenes for clues and prepared what was left of Bishop’s torso for transport.

“An alligator?” Hammond asked. “You really expect me to believe that shit?”

“I didn’t believe it either,” Rusty said. “That college girl was telling Bishop and I that she saw a giant alligator the size of a dinosaur just before she passed out on the floor of the sorority house bathroom at Sitwell Community College. We laughed it off, but sure enough, an alligator that big just turned Bishop into a late night snack.”

“You must be out of your mind,” Hammond said.

Members of a heavily armed SWAT team began pouring out of the open manhole. “We searched a three mile radius in every direction,” Captain Russell said to Hammond. “No alligator.”

Hammond glared at Rusty. “See?”

Rusty pointed to Bishop’s torso. “See?”

“What?” Hammond asked. “That? Could have been anything. Sewer gas. Rats. Lot of dangerous shit in the sewer. That’s why people aren’t supposed to be running around underground all willy nilly. You two were morons for going down there.”

“I know what I saw,” Rusty said.

“You know what I think?” Hammond asked.

“I dunno,” Rusty said. “Do you think anything?”

Hammond poked Rusty in the shoulder. “Watch it, Yates. I’m your commanding officer.”

Rusty folded his arms and bit his tongue.

“I think Cole had a hard-on for the Mayor because the Mayor had long been a critic of Cole’s shoddy police work,” Hammond said.

“Cole is the best cop I know,” Rusty said.

“But he’s not a cop anymore,” Hammond said. “Because he carried out his vendetta against the Mayor by trying to frame his son, an innocent bystander in all of this.”

“You think Buford is innocent?” Rusty asked. “Look, I know it sounds bananas, but I heard him talking to that alligator. It’s like they were plotting and scheming together or something. I don’t know how, but Buford and the alligator are in cahoots.”

“‘Buford and the alligator are in cahoots,’” Hammond said. “Will you listen to yourself? Get a grip. Obviously, you’re still loyal to Cole and you’re trying to carry out his sad plot to frame Buford for the toilet murders, only you’re worse at this than Cole. Cole could have come up with a better story than ‘Buford and the alligator are in cahoots.’”

“They are,” Rusty said. “Tell me this, if Buford is innocent, what was he doing in the sewer?”

“I’m not aware Buford was in the sewer,” Hammond said. “I only have your word for that and your word, at this point, is dubious at best.”

“Holy shit, Hammond,” Rusty said. “What does the Mayor got on you? Photos of you in a compromising position with a donkey or something?”

Hammond’s face turned red as he screamed at Rusty. “How the hell did you…damn it! I was in college, it was an experimental time and I…”

Rusty appeared surprised.

“Damn it, Yates,” Hammond said. “You and Cole are like a couple of cat turds in my morning oatmeal.”

Rusty walked away. “To hell with this.”

“Where are you going?” Hammond asked.

“To arrest Buford,” Rusty said.

“On what charges?” Hammond asked.

“I don’t know,” Rusty said. “Conspiracy to commit an alligator related homicide!”

“Stand down, Yates,” Hammond said.

“No,” Rusty replied.

“Deputy Yates!” Hammond barked. “You will stay away from Buford Dufresne. That is a director order. Do you understand me?”

Rusty sighed and turned around. “Crystal sir.”

“You wanna know why I have my job and Cole doesn’t?” Hammond asked.

“Because you and the Mayor sixty-nine each other on a semi-regular basis?” Rusty asked.
Hammond chuckled. “Oh, no. You’re not going to get me this time. There’s know way you could possibly know about…”

Rusty looked at Hammond with disgust. “Wait, what?”

“Nothing!” Hammond said. “I play ball, son. I never swim against the big fish and Mayor Dufresne is the shark in this here pond, you understand? Now you get it through your skull that Buford Dufresne is off limits and you and I won’t have a problem.”

Rusty ripped the badge off his shirt and tossed it down at Hammond’s feet. “No problem at all, sir. I quit.”

Hammond picked up the badge and called after Rusty, who was now walking away. “Good! Spares me the trouble of having to fire your sorry ass!”

Tagged , ,
May 31 2017
Leave a comment
Writing Choices

Writing Choices – Manchester by the Sea and the Unhappy Ending

Hey 3.5 readers.  Welcome to the first ever Writing Choices column.  Warning, spoilers abound!  Oh wait, the title of this post is a spoiler.  Avert your eyes!

But seriously.  If you haven’t seen this movie, then read no further, unless you don’t care, then feel free.

Manchester by the Sea is by far the most depressing movie I’ve seen this year and quite possibly my lifetime.  It’s a story of pain, suffering, and great loss.  More specifically, the movie reveals a truth that movies often sugarcoat or brush to the side in the name of making the audience happy – when it comes to overcoming loss, people often lose the battle.

Casey Affleck stars as Lee Chandler, a blue collar family man who once had it all.  Nice house, beautiful wife (Michelle Williams as Randi) and adorable little kids.  One night, and remember, SPOILERS, he throws a wild, drug and booze fueled party in his garage until his wife breaks up the fun and tells everyone to get lost because she’s trying to sleep.

After his buddies go home, Lee is too wired too sleep.  He starts a fire in the fireplace, then sits for a spell in a reclining chair, then gets up and goes for a walk to a package store, because even though it’s after three a.m., he decides that the one thing he needs after a night of drunken debauchery is more beer.

When he comes back (SPOILER) his home is ablaze.  Firefighters managed to rescue Randi, but alas, his kids, including a newborn infant, are lost.  He drops to the ground and displays a face of inconsolable loss and later, steals a police officer’s gun from its holster but is tackled before he can shoot himself.

If you’ve seen it, did you think about the “show, don’t tell” angle?  A lot is said here without it being directly said.   Here were two thoughts I had:

#1 – Dude, you’re kind of a shit bag for throwing that party with your wife and kids in the house in the first place.  Second, what’s wrong with you?  Why are you such an alcoholic that you needed to go out for more beer after drinking all night anyway?  Who leaves their kids and wife alone with a fire going in the fireplace?  Maybe if you weren’t so drunk and irresponsible you would have realized this was a bad idea.  I know if I had a wife that looked like Michelle Williams, I’d be in bed next to her instead of walking to the liquor store.

#2 – How one mistake can ruin your life and the lives of others.  OK.  You’re a responsible person.  You’d never throw a wild drinking/drug party.  You’d never leave your family in the middle of the night with a fire in the fireplace going for more beer.  Fine.  Still, no one can be perfect a hundred percent of the time.  I know that in the back of my mind, there’s always a fear I might screw up so badly that it ruins my life or the lives of others.  There’s a voice like that in the heads of most people.  If there isn’t one in yours, there should be?  Maybe you wouldn’t have left for beer, but could you see yourself maybe, oh, I don’t know, falling asleep with the fireplace still lit and then the house goes up anyway?  Are you a perfect driver?  Do you ever worry that you might make one mistake and hit another car?  See?  You might not be a drunk but even so, it is entirely possible that one day you might make a single boneheaded move that destroys everything.  Obviously, keep a watchful eye out to prevent that from happening.  You don’t want to end up like Lee Chandler.

Where was I?  Show don’t tell.  Those two reactions above came to me and yet, they aren’t spelled out.  Instead, we just see Lee living his life of sullen, depressed, lonesome ennui.  Every minute of every day is clearly a nightmare for him.  He obviously thinks about the terrible mistake he made every second of the day.  There’s clearly a voice nagging him inside his mind, “Why did you have to go get beer, dumbass?  Why did you have to light that fire. idiot?”

Had he just stayed in that recliner and fell asleep, he probably would have sniffed the embers that fell out of the fireplace and snuffed them before the house went up.  But for that one decision, he lost his wife and accidentally killed his kids.  He never comes out and says, “Oh I wish this and that…” but if you’re paying attention, you know he must be thinking that.

I have strayed too far from the main point though.  Unhappy endings.  We want to make our audiences happy.  Their lives probably stink, to varying degrees.  At any rate, no one wants more sadness in their lives.  So often, a movie comes together in the end to deliver a happy ending.

Throughout this film, we wonder if that will happen for Lee.  A couple of women express an interest in him.  Will he be able to get over the loss of his ex-wife and find love again?

Moreover, Lee’s brother, Joe, the last family member he was able to rely on and confide in, who didn’t abandon him after he burned his family up accidentally, dies.  Lee returns to Manchester by the Sea, his hometown, a place where he had once built a life but now he has a hard time being there due to bad memories.

Lee is charged with taking care of Joe’s son, Patrick (Lucas Hedges).  Patrick is having a rough go of it.  Not only did his father just die but his mother is, well, nuts, and so she’s out of the picture and not able to help.

Together, Lee and Patrick become a super depressing duo.  Lee drinks and occasionally starts bar fights just to feel something.  Patrick has two different girlfriends (unbeknownst to each other) and essentially uses girls at his high school for sex as a coping mechanism.

However, remember show and tell?  We see what Patrick is up to.  The people behind the movie depend upon us to make the connection.  “Oh, this kid is messed up in the head and he’s trying to feel better by having lots of teenage, pre-marital sex, which if anything, will just ruin his life and the lives of the girls he’s getting busy with.”

Throughout the film, we wonder if Lee will see guardianship of his nephew as a second chance – a way to prove that he’s not a complete waste of space.  He failed his children.  Perhaps he will man up and not fail his nephew.  After all, the kid only has a year or two of high school left.  Surely, anyone can put up with something for that long.

At times, Lee shows a few sparks of adulthood.  For the most part he turns a blind eye to Patrick’s shenanigans because he’s too exhausted to fight with the kid.  However, there are times when he grows concerned for the kid’s welfare and does some actual, honest to God parenting, telling Patrick the tough love words he needs to hear.

Further, we wonder if Patrick will ever see the light.  Yes, he lost his father and his mother isn’t much of a help.  Could he maybe realize his uncle has his own demons and step up to the plate?  Could he accept his Uncle as a father figure for the next year or so and not be a sneaky little shit to him?

Essentially, Lee and Patrick are two dudes down on their luck and all they have are each other.  We keep waiting for the moment to come when they will realize this.  We keep waiting for the happy ending…maybe one day, in the not so distant future, there will be a Christmas where a somber Patrick sits by the tree with a new lady friend and welcomes Patrick home from college and Patrick is in a stable, committed relationship with a nice girl.

Yeah.  Don’t hold your breath.  Lee gives up.  It’s too hard to be in Manchester by the Sea. Rather than stay in the house his brother left him and raise his nephew, he talks a family friend and his wife into doing it, then returns to his life as a broken down, incredibly ennui laden janitor.

There might be hope for Patrick.  He chooses the better of the two girls and at least he has a place to live with some kind of a stable adult and he’s going to go to college but for Lee?  Lee is screwed.

We don’t see if but we can imagine Lee back at an apartment complex like the one he was working at when the movie started, plunging toilets, drinking, getting into bar fights and flagellating himself over his lost family until the end of time.

Were you disappointed with the ending?  I was, for about a second.  Then I realized the point.  Life often does not have happy endings.  Movie endings aren’t all that realistic.  Sure, accidentally burning down your house with your family in it while you went out to get beer is the ultimate in psychological trauma that can’t be gotten over.

However, there are lesser traumas.  People often say “get over it and move on” because they have no idea what else to say and they think they are helping.  Truth be told, if you married someone and they divorce you, you may never get over that.  Even if you weren’t married, maybe you’ll always think about that lost boyfriend or girlfriend forever.

Maybe there’s a friendship or a relationship with a family member you lost because of some unkind words you wish you could take back.  Perhaps you made a foolish investment and lost a bundle and now you hate yourself.  Maybe someone you loved died of natural causes and you miss them constantly.

Mental anguish can’t just be alleviated with the snap of a finger.  I know, personally, I’ve been through some shit and after about the tenth time someone told me to, “Get over it and move on” I finally just stopped talking about it.  I’m not over it.  Time helps, not because it erases the bad memories but because the more time passes, the more you’ll forget about what troubles you and get a respite from it but even so…the pain is remembered.  The pain remains.  The sadness can’t be erased completely.

Some situations just don’t wrap up happily.  There can be no happy ending for Lee.  He can’t just go to a shrink and get a pill to help him forget this one.  There will be no new girlfriend for him.  There will be no redemption for him via raising his nephew.  He simply cannot forgive himself for what he has done, and who can blame him?

It’s not a happy ending but it is a realistic one.  Honestly, would a happy ending have come across as real here?  I don’t think so.

YOUR ASSIGNMENT:  In the comments, discuss the writing choices you saw in this movie or alternatively, if you’re a writer, would you ever consider an unhappy ending for one of your stories?  Is it better to provide readers with a realistic yet sad ending instead of an unlikely but happy one?

Tagged , , , , , , ,
May 31 2017
Leave a comment
Writing Choices

Announcing a New Column – Writing Choices

1371251154

Hey 3.5 readers.

I had no idea where I was going with this blog when I started it.  Lately, it seems to be more about movies and less about books.  Well, I talk about books I am working on but not so much about books I want to review.

Had I been able to see into the future, I would have changed my name to Moviescreen Q. Watcher but hey, you all know me as Bookshelf Q. Battler know, and that’s lucky, because that’s my name.

At any rate, I do a lot of movie reviews on this blog.  I have loved watching movies ever since I was a little BQB.  I admit, on occasion, sometimes when I’m watching a frivolous movie, I think, “Did I just waste two hours watching an idiot in tights walk around pretending to be a superhero?”

Yes.  Yes I did.  Then again, I didn’t, because movies allow us to explore worlds we’d never otherwise dip our toes into.

So – writing choices.  I’ll still be writing movie reviews.  But I also want to write about the choices that writers behind the movies make.  Why did this character do this?  Why did the other character say that?  What is the purpose of such and such?

I’ve thought about this for a while now and I was loathe to do it because, you know, spoilers.  But I will a) try not to write about the writing choices until after you’ve had a chance to check the movie out and b) I’ll try to remember to announce spoilers.  In fact, if you see the words, “Writing Choices” then you should assume there will be spoilers.

Thanks and I hope this will lead to discussions with you 3.5 writers about…dun dun dun…writing choices!

Tagged , , ,
May 29 2017
Leave a comment
Toilet Gator

Toilet Gator – Chapter 73

presentation01

Buford pulled into an abandoned lot and got out of his truck, AR-15 in hand.

“Skippy,” Buford said into the microphone on his headset. “I’m coming down to talk to you in person. I want a little face time.”

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“Don’t you talk back to me, young man,” Buford said.

“Raarga, raarga!” Skippy replied.

“Fine,” Buford said. “I still think it’s dumb for you to kill again but if you really feel that you’re hopeless hooked on human flesh now then maybe we can work something out. Maybe there are some homeless drifters out there that no one would miss but you can’t just keep pulling off all these high profile murders. We need to be smart about this.”

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“No,” Buford replied. “I’m not going to call the news lady again. I shouldn’t have let you talk me into that the first time. Wait, that’s what this is really all about, isn’t it?”

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“You’re a glory hound, aren’t you?” Buford asked. “A voyeur.”

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“You want to be the most famous alligator that ever lived?” Buford asked.

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“That’s just ridiculous,” Skippy said. “Hold on. I’m coming down there and we’re going to talk this thing out all civil like. And just so you know, I brought my rifle with me, not like it’ll do much good against you but I’m sure it still smarts. You be a gentleman and don’t hurt me and I’ll have no reason to use it.”

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

Buford pulled a crowbar out of the back of his truck and knelt over a manhole cover. He pried the cover off and struggled to move it as it was so heavy. Ever so slowly, he then crawled down a step ladder into the stinky abyss below.

Moments later, Rusty and Bishop emerged from the shadow of a nearby dilapidated old building. They had been listening in the entire time.

“Skippy?” Bishop asked.

“The most famous alligator that ever lived?” Rusty asked.

“There is some next level insanity going on here,” Buford said.

Rusty pulled a flashlight off his belt and shined it down the open manhole. “We should call for backup.”

“No time,” Bishop said.

“You think we should just go down there by ourselves?” Rusty asked. “With him talking crazy talk and carrying a manstopper?”

Bishop took off his jacket, folded it, and laid it on the hood of Buford’s truck. “You do what you want, but I’m in charge of this thing and if there’s a chance I can keep another victim from being killed on the can…”

“You’re right,” Rusty said. “You lead the way. I’ll follow up behind.”

Bishop lowered his body into the open hole and set his feet on the first rung of the ladder. He looked up at Rusty.

“By ‘behind’ I mean I’ll watch your back,” Rusty said. “As in I’ll keep an eye out to make sure you don’t get shot.”

“I know,” Bishop said.

“I didn’t mean I want to give it to you from behind,” Rusty said.

“I didn’t think you did,” Bishop said.

“Good,” Rusty said. “Because I thought about that too and the idea of me putting my drill bit in another man’s socket gives me the heebie jeebies.”

“OK,” Bishop said.

“I’m not a top or a bottom,” Rusty said. “I’m strictly just a man on man cuddler.”

“Now really isn’t the time to talk about this,” Bishop said.

Tagged , ,
May 29 2017
Leave a comment
Toilet Gator

Toilet Gator – Chapter 72

presentation01

Three hours into the stakeout, Rusty and Bishop were having themselves a grand old time. There were swapping stories, telling jokes and a bottle of scotch purchased from the liquor store loosened their lips quite a bit.

“And so I says to the lady bartender….get this…I says….” Rusty was beside himself with laughter, slapping his knee.

“What did you say?” Bishop asked.

“I said,” Rusty said between chuckles. “Is that a cucumber in your pocketbook or are you happy to see me?”

Bishop busted out laughing. “Bahhh ha ha ha!”

The big man wiped some tears of joy from his eyes and calmed down. “Shit. You’re alright, Red.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, big guy,” Rusty said.

“When I met you I thought you were just some dumbass hillbilly cop trying to throw his weight around,” Bishop said.

“I am,” Rusty said. “Don’t tell anyone any different. I got a reputation to uphold. Oh and I thought you were some kinda musclebound ex-marine who gets off on intimidating people with his size.”

“Ex-Navy Seal,” Bishop said.

“Get out,” Rusty said.

“True,” Bishop said.

“You were over there in the shit?” Rusty asked.

“You know it,” Bishop said.

“How was that?” Rusty said.

“It was like a really fun vacation to an amusement park,” Bishop said. “What do you think it was like?”

“Sorry,” Rusty said. “Dumb question.”

“Nah,” Bishop said. “It’s alright. It was hell. Saw too many people die. Came too close to dying myself too many times. I was ready to be out.”

“Must have been an adjustment coming back to the states,” Rusty said.
“At first, yes,” Bishop said. “But honestly, ever since I got back, little has bothered me. If you can live through war, then you can live through anything.”

“Good for you,” Rusty said.

The duo clanked their scotch filled paper cups together. “Cheers,” Bishop said.

“Back at ya,” Rusty replied.

The two men sat in Bishop’s car, keeping their eyes glued on Buford’s motel room door. No movement.

“You know though, I gotta say, I feel bad for shooting the breeze with you like this on account…”

“What?” Bishop asked.

“Well,” Rusty said. “Cole’s my best friend and you his ex-wife are…”

Bishop grimaced. “Are what?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Rusty said. “I get that she’s divorced and she’s not Cole’s property or anything it’s just, you know, I feel disloyal hanging out here with you while you’re with the love of my best buddy’s life is all.”

Bishop laughed. “You really are a dumbass hayseed.”

“What?” Rusty asked.

“Sharon and I aren’t together,” Bishop said.

“But…”

“What made you think we are?” Bishop asked.

“I dunno,” Rusty said. “Cole said he walked in on you two and you were…”

Bishop sighed. “Spit it out!”

“Naked,” Rusty said. “Sans pantaloons as the French say.”

“The French don’t say that,” Bishop said.

“Do I look like I’ve been to Paris?” Rusty asked.

“I was naked because I was doing pushups,” Bishop said.

“Why the hell would you get naked to do pushups?” Rusty asked.

“Clothes are restrictive,” Bishop said. “Being naked helps my body move better. It gives me the edge I need to stay fit.”

“Bullshit,” Rusty said.

“No shit,” Bishop said. “You aren’t going to get your best workout if you’re stopping every five minutes to adjust your pants.”

“What about the wine?” Rusty asked.

“What about it?” Gordon replied. “Sharon has exactly one glass every night. Helps her sleep.”

Rusty was skeptical. “You mean to tell me that two adults in their sexual prime, one of them naked, the other in a bathrobe, and there’s a bottle of wine in the mix and neither of you…”

“Nope,” Bishop said.

“I still call bullshit,” Rusty said.

“Call all you want,” Bishop replied. “Nothing has ever happened between us.”

“Something’s not right,” Rusty said. “How are you gonna run around in your all together in the presence of a woman you work with and you’re not either banging her or getting sued by her for sexual harassment?”

“God man, I dunno,” Bishop said. “Sharon’s been my partner for ten years now. We went through Quantico training together. We’ve been through all sorts of shit, saved each others’ asses more times than I can count. There’s little either of us can do to shock the other at this point. She’s just a good friend.”

“A good friend?” Rusty asked.

“That’s all,” Bishop replied.

“That you don’t want to…”

“She’d have to grow a dick,” Bishop said.

Rusty smiled. “Oh ok.”

The duo sat there in silence for awhile. Rusty dozed off, then perked up when the gravity of Bishop’s last statement hit him. “Wait, what?”

“I’m gay, man,” Bishop said.

“Get out,” Rusty said.

“Why do you keep telling me to get out?” Bishop asked. “Where am I going to go?”
“You’re gay?” Rusty asked.

“I didn’t stutter,” Bishop answered.

“You?” Rusty said. “With all your muscles?”

“Yes,” Bishop said.

“Seems like a waste,” Rusty said.

“How’s that?” Bishop asked.

“Well shit,” Rusty said. “If I had your body, I’d be grabbing more pussy than a crazy old cat lady, that’s for sure.”

“I don’t know if you might have heard,” Bishop said. “But gay men like muscles too and I do just fine.”

Rusty shifted in his seat. “That’s probably more information than I need.”

“Too fine actually,” Bishop said. “Sharon keeps nagging me to find a special guy to settle down with but I don’t know. Life is meant to be lived to the fullest, you know? Each man I’m with, it’s like a whole new, beautiful experience.”

Rusty looked at his watch. “Oh wow, look at the time. We should probably wrap this up. This dipshit probably went to bed.”

“Oh I see how it is,” Bishop said.

“How what it is?” Rusty asked.

“You’re one of those ignorant rednecks who thinks that just because a guy is gay he must automatically want your dopey ass,” Bishop said.

“I didn’t say that,” Rusty said.

“Probably got more red hair on it than Willie Nelson’s beard,” Bishop said.

“I didn’t,” Rusty repeated. “I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting that, is all. It’s a free country man. I’m not telling you to stop being you.”

“Whatever,” Bishop said.

Further silence ensued until Rusty broke through. “It’s actually been nice talking to you.”

“Yeah,” Bishop said. “You too.”

“Cole and I used to talk like this,” Rusty said. “Back when we were younger. But ever since…well, he went through a lot of shit and he just clammed up. I do miss chatting with my friend, I’ll tell you that.”

“I’ll chat with you anytime,” Bishop said. “Just don’t get any crazy ideas about me being interested in you. I can do way better than you.”

“I…shit,” Rusty said. “I don’t even know what to say to that. Am I insulting you if I tell you I don’t want that? Am I insulting you if tell the truth? Can you just be you and I’ll be me? Damn, this is a confusing ass time we live in.”

“Just say whatever you want,” Bishop said.

Rusty took a sip of scotch. “You know it’s just that…”

“What?” Bishop asked.

“Look, I’m not gay,” Rusty say.

“If you gotta declare it…” Bishop said.

“Shut up,” Rusty said. “Nah, it’s just, there have been times in my life where I’ve tried to open up to women about my feelings, you know? Only they have no idea how men work and there were times where, and shit don’t you repeat this…”

“I won’t,” Bishop said.

“There were times back in the day when Cole and I used to talk more where I felt like, if I could just put my arm around him and snuggle for awhile, it would be nice,” Rusty said.

“Interesting,” Bishop said.

“It would be comforting to be held by someone who understands where you’re coming from, regardless of what genitals they got, you know?” Rusty said.

“I hear you,” Bishop said.

“That doesn’t mean I’m gay, does it?” Rusty asked.

“I don’t know,” Bishop said. “Do you think it does?”

“I don’t think so,” Rusty said. “Because I still think about pussy twenty-four seven and titties? Don’t get me started. The bigger the better.”

“Maybe you’re bisexual,” Bishop said.

“I do buy it, yeah,” Rusty said.

Bishop smirked. “No. ‘Bisexual.’ You like men and women.”
“What?” Rusty asked. “Like an AC/DC outlet? Nah. I only go one way.”

“You sure about that?” Bishop asked. “Can’t think of many straight men who would want to snuggle with another man.”

“Well,” Rusty said. “Here’s the big question though. You know that part of gay sex where one dude blasts another dude in the ass?”

“I’ve heard about it, yes,” Bishop said.

“I’m not trying to insult you,” Rusty said. “But I think that’s the most disgusting thing ever. I mean, the idea of one dude jamming his ramrod up my backdoor makes me want to vomit out everything I’ve ever eaten in my entire life.”

“Maybe that’s just because you’ve never tried it before,” Bishop said.

“Yeah, well,” Rusty replied. “I’ve never been hit by an oncoming train but I’m pretty sure I don’t have to in order to comprehend that the experience would be less than enjoyable.”

Bishop shrugged. “To each their own.”

“See this one time,” Rusty said. “I went to the doctor because my stool was coming out red.”

“There’s a turn-on,” Bishop said.

“Nah, it was OK,” Rusty said. “Turns out I was just using way too much cherry drink mix. But just to be sure, the Doctor stuck his finger up my old wazoo and boy, that did not feel good at all. Felt like a burglar was trying to pry a rusty old iron door open with a crowbar.”

“So what are you saying?” Bishop asked.

“I’m saying that I love pussy,” Rusty said. “And I’m not gay. And I still hope to marry a woman one day but…I would really like to feel safe in another man’s arms. Is that even a thing?”

“It’s 2017,” Bishop said. “Everything’s a thing.”

Rusty and Bishop locked eyes. Before he knew it, Bishop was putting his big, strong arm around Rusty and pulling him in close.

“Oh shit,” Rusty said.

“Shh,” Bishop said as he wrapped his other arm around Rusty. “Don’t fight it.”

Rusty breathed a sigh of epic relief as he buried his face into Bishop’s thick neck and sniffed a burly, manly scent. “Aww yeah. That’s the stuff.”

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Bishop asked.
“Oh God yes,” Rusty said. “Like being a little bear cub wrapped up all snuggly soft in his mother’s arms.”

“OK then,” Bishop said.

“This must be what a baby kangaroo feels like in his mother’s pouch,” Rusty said.

“Sure,” Bishop said.

“It’s like someone just picked me up and shoved me up my mother’s uterus again,” Rusty said.

“And you ruined it,” Bishop said.

“I did?” Rusty asked.

Bishop rubbed his hand up and down Rusty’s back. “No.”

“Bishop?” Rusty asked.

“Yeah?” Bishop replied.

“You think I could ever find a man who would be willing to do this for me on the regular?” Rusty asked.

“I don’t know,” Bishop said. “Anything’s possible I suppose.”

“But unlikely,” Rusty said. “Because sooner or later he’ll want to invade my behind with his heat seeking moisture missile.”

“True enough,” Bishop said.

“No rear entry is like a total deal breaker for male on male relationship?” Rusty asked.

“Maybe not at first,” Bishop said. “But any long lasting relationship of any kind isn’t going to happen unless there’s physical intimacy…of the carnal variety.”

“So two men can’t just get together on a long term basis and cuddle without fucking?” Rusty asked.

“Afraid not,” Bishop said.

“God damn it,” Rusty said. “Men are such pigs.”

“We really are,” Bishop replied.

The sound of a door slamming broke up the party. Bishop and Rusty released one another and turned their eyes to Buford, who was walking out of his hotel room with an assault rifle in hand.
“Holy shit,” Rusty said. “Should we bust him?”

“Nah,” Bishop said. “That’s an AR-15. Legal. He’ll just flash a permit and say he was putting it in his truck to take it to the range tomorrow or something.”

Buford put the rifle into his truck, then got in and started his engine.

“So what do we do?” Rusty asked.

Bishop switched on his ignition. “We find out what he plans to do with it.”

Tagged , ,
May 29 2017
Leave a comment
Toilet Gator

Toilet Gator – Chapter 70

presentation01

Britney sat back in her hospital bed, too nauseous to even look at the jello on her tray table. Rusty stood by while Bishop read from his notes.

“So you’re telling me you saw something that was green, at least fifteen feet long, four legs, must have weighed over eight hundred pounds, enormous teeth…”

“And it hissed at me,” Britney said.

“Ma’am,” Bishop said. “I don’t mean to sound rude but had you been drinking that night?”

“No,” Britney said.

“Drugs?” Bishop asked.

“No,” Britney said.

“A little coke, perhaps?” Bishop said. “A little marijuana?”

“No,” Britney said.

“It’s cool,” Bishop said. “I know what college is like.”

“I wasn’t on anything,” Britney said.

“Ma’am,” Bishop said. “I know you might think you have to say you weren’t because we’re law enforcement officers but honestly, I have no interest in busting you for a little bit of drug dabbling. I just need to know the truth.”

Britney grew frustrated. “That’s the truth!”

“That you saw an enormous alligator?” Bishop asked.

“Yes,” Britney said. “No. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Bishop asked.

“It looked like an alligator,” Britney said. “But it was so big. I’ve seen alligators at the zoo before but nothing this big. I don’t think they normally get that big do they?”

“I have no idea,” Bishop said.

“So all I’m saying is it must have been bigger than a regular alligator,” Britney said. “Like it must have been a dinosaur.”

Bishop scoffed. “A dinosaur?!”
Britney closed her eyes. “Whatever. You asked. I told you.”

Bishop nodded. “Have you told me everything?”

“Yes,” Britney said.

“Are you sure?” Bishop asked.

“Yes!” Britney said.

Bishop reviewed his notes. “You and the other kids were arguing while Chad Becker was defecating on the toilet. Next thing you know, wham, you’re on the ground and the last thing you see is some type of prehistoric alligator-like beast, possibly a dinosaur due to its abnormally large size.”

“You got it,” Britney said.

“Miss Chase,” Bishop said. “None of the other kids reported seeing this alleged creature.”

“I don’t know,” Britney said. “I just know what I saw.”

Bishop looked at his notebook. “Then again, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt in that you’re the only one whose head wasn’t pinned under the bathroom stall wall.”

“See?” Britney said. “There you go.”

Rusty looked at Bishop, presumably making a silent request to speak up. Bishop nodded in the affirmative.

“Britney,” Rusty said. “You mind if I call you, ‘Britney?’”

“I guess,” Britney said.

“What are you studying at Sitwell?” Rusty asked.

Bishop looked confused as well as curious as to where Rusty was going with this line of questioning.

“Nursing,” Britney said.

“You putting yourself through school?” Rusty asked.

“Yes,” Britney said.

“Job?” Rusty asked.

“I’m a cashier at Price Town,” Britney said.

“You like that kind of work?” Rusty asked.

“No,” Britney said.

“Why not?” Rusty asked.

“Little old ladies come up to me all the time to bitch me out over the price of everything,” Britney said. “They’re all like, ‘I could get this for half the price down the street’ and I feel like saying, ‘Well, why don’t you move your ass and go down there then, bitch?’”

Rusty smirked. “Family commitments?”

“I’ve got a little brother I have to babysit when he gets home from school,” Britney said. “Both my parents work.”

“So you don’t live on campus?” Rusty asked.

“No,” Britney said.

“That’s kinda sad,” Rusty said.

“It is?” Britney asked

“Yeah,” Rusty replied. “You’re missing out on the party scene.”

Britney shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve been to a few parties. Every time I go thinking it’ll be fun. Every time I leave because it’s just a bunch of drunk losers grinding on each other and puking all over the place. That last one, that’s the last one I’ll ever go to. I’m done with college parties.”

Rusty turned to Bishop. “That’s all I’ve got.”

Bishop drummed his fingers across the armrest of the chair he was sitting in. He pondered his next move for a moment before asking a question. “Do you know of anyone with a reason to hurt Chad?”

“To hurt Chad?” Britney asked.

“Yeah,” Bishop asked. “Someone who hated him, despised him.”

Britney laughed. “How much time have you got?”

“The list is that big?” Bishop asked.

“He used women and threw them away like they were nothing,” Britney said. “Pretty much every woman on campus had a reason to hate him.”

“Yourself included?” Bishop asked.

Britney sighed. “I hated him for awhile but then I just started feeling sorry for him, like there must have been something broken inside of him that he could have that much sex with so many different women but still never feel satisfied, you know?”

“Tell me about it,” Rusty blurted out.

Seeing that no one found his joke funny, Rusty slinked back into the corner of the room.

“You kept hanging out with him after the break-up?” Bishop asked.

“Yeah,” Britney said. “I don’t know. That was stupid I guess. I was just hoping that maybe he’d change but deep down, I knew he never would.”

“Anyone else with a grudge against him?” Bishop asked.

“He was rude to practically everyone,” Britney said. “He’d walk down the halls and just shout out insults to people. If you were short, or fat, or ugly or whatever. He’d find something to make fun of.”

“Sounds like a dick,” Bishop said.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Britney said.

Britney looked around the room and took a deep breath, apparently scared to mention something else. “He dealt drugs.”

Bishop lit up. “He did?”

“Marijuana,” Britney said. “Everybody on campus knew. He was the guy everyone went to.”

“He have any after him for that?” Bishop asked. “Disgruntled customer? Maybe a supplier he cheated?”

“I have no idea,” Britney said. “I never found out about that until after we broke up. I wouldn’t have dated him had I known. I never asked him about it after. I didn’t really want to know. I just know what I heard around campus.”

“Huh,” Bishop said as he stood up. “Alright then. Take care of yourself, Miss Chase. Hope you feel better.”

Rusty and Bishop exited the room and headed down the hallway.

“What do you think?” Rusty asked.

Bishop pinched his thumb and pointer finger together, then put them up against his mouth and made a sucking sound, as though he were enjoying an invisible doobie.

“You think she’s a druggie?” Rusty asked.
“Of course,” Bishop said. “Give me a break that she didn’t know her boyfriend was a dealer. She’s just trying to cover for herself.”

“I don’t know,” Rusty said. “She seemed pretty solid, a little more mature than the average college kid.”

“How so?” Bishop asked.

“She’s got a job that she hates but goes to anyway because she needs the money,” Rusty said.

“Welcome to adulthood,” Bishop said.

“Exactly,” Rusty replied.

The duo reached the elevator. Bishop pushed the call button. The doors opened and they headed for the ground floor.

“She lives at home and takes care of her brother,” Rusty said. “Probably has parents nagging on her. Probably doing her best to work hard and save up so she can get out on her own.”

“Not one of these kids whose content to sit on Mom and Dad’s couch until they’re forty-five,” Bishop said.

“Exactly,” Rusty said.

“So OK,” Bishop said. “Maybe she didn’t have a drug induced hallucination. Maybe she just hit her head really hard on the floor and it scrambled her brains.”

“You think?” Rusty said.

“Well,” Bishop said. “The only other option is that an actual dinosaur sized alligator jumped up though the toilet and ate Chad Becker. You think that really happened?”

Rusty and Chad stared at each other blankly for a few seconds, then burst out in laughter together.

“Aww shit,” Rusty said. “Toilet gator. That’s a good one.”

The duo reached the ground level. They stepped out of the elevator and walked through the lobby.

“So, what now?” Rusty asked.

“Buford Dufresne,” Bishop said.

“What about him?” Rusty asked.

“He’s our only real lead,” Bishop said. “It was odd that he was at his mother’s house in the middle of the night. Odd that he was screaming about how he tried to warn her about something. We never really got an answer to any of that.”

“That guy’s always been the town weirdo,” Rusty said. “Never really grew up because his rich Daddy always took care of him.”

“Sounds like a guy with a lot of time on his hands,” Bishop said.

“Time to plot something big?” Rusty asked.

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Bishop said.

“Aww but,” Rusty said. “I can’t go anywhere near that kid. He’s the Mayor’s boy and Hammond is the Mayor’s bitch. Those two are tighter than a pair of skinny jeans.”

Rusty unlocked his cruiser and hopped into the driver’s seat. Bishop took the passenger’s side.

“Don’t worry about it,” Bishop said.

“I am worried about it,” Rusty said. “He already fired Cole. I don’t need to be sacked too.”

“I’m a federal investigator and I’ve commandeered your services,” Bishop said. “If Hammond gets up your ass, I’ll swat him down.”

“Huh,” Rusty said as he backed out of his parking space. “I like the sound of that. Where to?”

“Let’s look around town,” Bishop said. “See if we can’t find out what Buford is up to.”

Tagged , , , ,
May 29 2017
Leave a comment
Toilet Gator

Toilet Gator – Chapter 68

presentation01

Rusty and Burt sat in the break room of the Sitwell Police Department, playing a rousing game of “Go Fish.”

“Got any threes?” Rusty asked.

Burt sat there, staring silently at his cards with a blank look on his face.

“Burt!” Rusty said.

“Huh?” Burt asked.

“You got any threes?” Rusty asked.

“Oh,” Burt said as he handed over a three card. “Sorry.”

“Something on your mind?” Rusty asked.

“Nah,” Burt said. “Well, maybe.”

“Out with it old man,” Rusty said.

“Old man?” Burt asked. “Screw you, Big Red. You’ll get there one day.”

“But not today,” Rusty said. “What’s up?”

“Aww, it’s just, I don’t know,” Burt said. “Maude.”

“Maude?” Rusty asked.

“Yeah,” Burt said. “Kinda miss her being around. Hell, she worked here long before you and your boyfriend showed up.”

“Cole is not my boyfriend,” Rusty said. “He is just my friend who happens to be a boy.”

“Whatever,” Burt said. “But oh my God, back in the day, Maude was quite a looker.”

Rusty set his cards down on the table. “Maude?”

“Yes,” Burt said. “Had an ass like a little candy apple and a pair of perky bazongas that made you want to take up breastfeeding again.”

Rusty looked disgusted. “Our Maude?”

“Yes,” Burt repeated.

“Old stank breath Maude?” Rusty asked.

“Exactly,” Burt said.

“Grungy old sweatshirt wearing, carries a portable oxygen tank wherever she goes, gray haired Maude?” Rusty asked.

“We all get old, son,” Burt said. “We all have lives before we good old. I wasn’t so bad myself.”

“Yeah, yeah, no one cares about you,” Rusty said. “Tell me about young Maude.”

“What else is there to tell?” Burt asked. “She was the office eye candy. Sweet, kind, a pleasure to be around. Made working here much more pleasant. I admit I had a bit of a crush on her but I always felt bad about that, what with her being a married woman and all. Arthur was actually an old poker buddy of mine, so I kept my mouth shut about it because, you know, he’d of shut my mouth for me if I hadn’t.”

“What the hell are you talking about it now for then?” Rusty asked.

“I don’t know,” Burt said. “I’ve been a damn bachelor all my life.”

“Because you weren’t really that good looking when you were young after all?” Rusty asked.

“No,” Burt said. “I have a rare condition.”

“Oh geez,” Rusty said. “I’m sorry, Burt. I didn’t know.”

“Peyrone’s Disease,” Burt said.

“Peyronie’s Disease,” Rusty said. “Holy shit, Burt. That sounds awful. Is it gonna kill you?”

“No,” Burt said. “Just makes life difficult.”

“Fuck me,” Rusty said as he pushed his chair back from the table. “It’s not contagious, is it?”

“I don’t think so,” Burt said.

“Well?” Rusty said. “What the hell is it?”

Burt cleared his throat. “A curvature of the penis.”

“Come again?” Rusty said.

“My man business,” Burt said. “It curves at a right angle.”

Rusty’s eyes widened. “Are you shitting me?”

“I shit you not,” Burt replied.

“How the hell do you give a woman the business if you’ve got right angled dong?” Rusty asked.

“It’s not impossible,” Burt said. “In theory. I don’t know. I’ve never actually…”

Rusty banged his fist on the table. “Shut up!”

Burt’s face turned red. “Bah, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Do you mean to tell me a man as old as you has never once…”

Burt threw up his hands. “I don’t even remembered how we veered so far off topic. All I’m saying is I miss Maude.”

“Damn straight you do,” Rusty said. “You miss her and you wanna give her that curvy old pecker don’t you?”

“Shut up,” Burt said.

“Does it curve in any other directions?” Rusty asked. “Come on, tell me. It’s like a silly straw down there, isn’t it?”

“Enough,” Burt said.

Rusty pulled out his cell phone. “Let me get a picture. I need to submit this to the World’s Record people.”

“It’s not that uncommon,” Burt said. “They say Bill Clinton had it.”

Rusty appeared taken aback. “Bill Clinton? But he was shtupping broads all the time!”

“Yeah,” Burt said. “But he was the President. If you’re the President, then I assume women don’t mind if you’ve got a curved penis. If you’re a bum like me, well…”

Rusty sighed. “You’re not a bum Burt but shit…we gotta get you laid, Burt.”

Burt shook his head. “Aww, who the hell cares at this point?”

“I do,” Rusty said. “You’re an old man. You could go tomorrow without having experienced one of life’s greatest joys and that’d be a sin as far as I’m concerned.”

“Just keep your mouth shut about this,” Burt said. “I shouldn’t have told you.”

“Your secret is safe with me, Burt,” Rusty said. “And mark my words, as soon as shit dies down with this Toilet Killer business, I’m taking you out to Big Ray-Ray’s House of Fancy Funbags and paying one of those girls to go town on that whirligig you got down there.”

“No thanks,” Burt said. “I’d never do anything illegal.”

Rusty raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Why the hell not?”

Burt shook his head in disgust. “Because we’re cops?”

“Oh,” Rusty said. “Right.”

Rusty collected the cards and played a game of solitaire for awhile while Burt perused a newspaper. Within a few minutes, the ginormous frame of Agent Bishop was towering over the redhead.

“May I help you, Bigfoot?” Rusty asked.

“Move your ass,” Bishop said. “We got work to do.”

Tagged , ,
May 28 2017
Leave a comment
Toilet Gator

Toilet Gator – Chapter 65

presentation01

Ten years later, an eighteen year old Buford was attending the senior prom in the Sitwell High School gymnasium, clad in a hand me down baby blue tuxedo that had once belonged to his father. He was manning the punch bowl because he felt that gave him an actual, legitimate reason to be there.

“Date?” Buford said as he ladled some punch into a glass for Bernice Fuller. She wore a black dress and her hair had been died a fresh coat of pink. “Psssh. Please. I aint got no time for dates, what with me being here, performing a much needed community service by making sure no one here goes thirsty.”

Bernice smiled. “That’s mighty nice of you, Buford.”

“Don’t I know it,” Buford said. “Someone’s gotta set an example for our nation’s youth, what with the Paris Hiltons and Lindsey Lohans of the world getting themselves arrested and all.”

“OK then Buford,” Bernice said as she slinked away. “I have to go be…anywhere but here now.”

“Oh sure, sure,” Buford said. “That’s cool. Go gut a rug. Maybe later when I’m done serving all this punch we’ll boogie down to some T-Pain or some Maroon 5 or something.”

“What?” Bernice said as she tapped her ear. “Sorry! Can’t hear you! Music’s too loud.”

As the sounds of the late 2000s filled the gym, Buford look across the sea of dancing teens to find a young, overweight girl with glasses and braces sobbing alone, up high in the bleachers.

Buford spit into the palm of his hand, used it to wipe down a cow lick, then ladled out two glasses of punch. He took one more look at the young lady, then took a deep breath.

“Just what I need,” Buford said. “Someone as hard up as I am. Thank you, Jesus.”

Buford mustered up all of his courage, marched up the bleachers and handed the girl a cup. She looked up, confused.

“Sorry to bother you, Sally,” Buford said. “But as this social function’s duly designation punch monitor it came to my attention that all this crying you’re doing has most likely left you dehydrated and therefore it is my duty to help you replenish your fluids.”

Sally took the cup and sipped. “It’s good.”

“Made it myself,” Buford said as he took a seat next to Sally. “The key ingredient is extra fruit punch powder.”

Sally laughed and dried her eyes. “OK.”

“Sally,” Buford said. “Might I be so bold as to inquire why you’re up here, looking so forlorn while all the action is down there on the dance floor?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Sally said.

“Oh, you know,” Buford said. “I had many offers to dance but my duties as a punch monitor comes first.”

Sally giggled. Buford was confused by this because he was only being funny on an unintentional level.

“I was making out with Chad Becker…”

“Ugh,” Buford said. “That cro-magnon?”

“Whatever,” Sally said. “He’s Chad Becker. He’s Captain of the football team. He’s hot.”

Buford sighed. “I must admit that if I were the owner and proprietor of a vagina, the sight of him would probably make it tingle or…do whatever vaginas do. I don’t know. I’m not well versed in the gynecological sciences.”

“We were out on the football field,” Sally said. “Behind the bleachers there and we got to talking, sharing our dreams. He told me he wants to be an NFL football player.”

“He’ll be lucky if he gets accepted at Sitwell Community college,” Buford said.

“I told him about my dream to become a pop star,” Sally said.

“You sing?” Buford said. “I had no idea.”

“Mostly in the shower,” Sally said. “I never had the guts to go out for the school chorus or anything.”

“I bet you’re really good,” Buford said.

“I think so,” Sally said. “But Chad laughed at me and called me a whale and told me that no one with a butt as big as mine would ever be accepted as an internationally beloved singing sensation.”

Sally broke out into tears and buried her face into Buford’s shoulder. Buford took full advantage of the situation, rubbing his hand up and down Sally’s back and saying, “There, there” as he sniffed her perfume.

“I’m sorry,” Sally said. “I don’t mean to put all my problems on you.”

“That’s ok,” Buford said, enjoying the first snuggle of his entire lifetime. “Put them all on me.”

“It’s just that,” Sally said. “I’m worried because he’s probably right. I mean, look at me. I’m fat and I have glasses and braces. The world would never love me. I don’t even think any man could ever love me.”

Buford felt his body getting all warm and fuzzy. He pulled out his collar for some air. “Oh, I don’t know about all that. I bet there’s a man out there for you.”

“You think so?” Sally asked.

“I know so,” Buford said. “Maybe closer than you think.”

Sally took the hint. The youngsters pursed their lips and were about to press them together when Buford found himself being unceremoniously cock-blocked by a young, more studly than ever Chad Becker.

“Turdford!” Chad said, using the nickname that he’d saddled Buford with years earlier. “What the hell, bro? You’re reeling in Sally the Whale? Avast, matey! Thar she blows!”

Throughout his entire existence in the Sitwell public school system, Buford had taken Chad’s abuse without offering the slightest amount of a struggle. However, something about this situation was different. Sally’s honor had been slighted, and the young nerd did not care for it one bit.

“Take that back,” Buford said.

Chad began making garbled up whale calls. “What you gonna do, Turdford? Take your date out for a night on the ocean and a side of krill?”

Sally cried. Buford balled up his fist and seethed with rage as Chad dumped the contents of a little nip bottle into a glass of punch.

“Did you just perform an unapproved punch spike?” Buford asked.

“Sure did, whale lover,” Chad said. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Buford took a swing, one that Chad easily sidestepped. This caused Buford to lose his balance and he tumbled down the bleachers, rolling down the steps over and over again until he landed on the gym floor.

The music stopped. All the kids watched as Sally ran down the steps to check on Buford.

“Are you okay?” Sally asked.

“Yeah,” Buford said as he rubbed his aching head. “I think so.”

Chad passed his drink to Sally. “Hold this.”

The football star proceeded to grab Buford by the underpants, which he then pulled and pulled and pulled until the elastic waistband snapped. Kids, teachers, everyone laughed.

A much younger Mr. Hogan walked over. “Break it up, break it up!”

“Mr. Hogan!” Buford said. “Thank God, you’re here.”

Mr. Hogan adjusted his glasses and looked down at Buford. “Oh it’s you.”

“What?” Buford asked.

“You always were a creepy little shit,” Mr. Hogan said. He looked to Chad. “As you were.”

Mr. Hogan walked away as Chad kicked Buford in the gut repeatedly.

“Think you can stand up to me nerd?” Chad asked as he continued his Rockette impression.

“Chad!” Sally said as she grabbed Chad’s arm. “That’s enough.”

Chad stopped kicking Buford. He took his drink back and guzzled it, then threw the empty cup at Buford’s head.

“You wanna get outta here?” Chad asked.

Sally looked around. “Me?”

“Yeah, you,” Chad said. “Unless there’s someone standing behind you, which is possible, because you know, you’re super fat.”

“But you called me a whale,” Sally said.

“Yeah,” Chad said. “But then I got to thinking, I’ve banged every girl in the senior class but you so I might as well complete the whole set, you know?”

Sally took Chad’s hand.

Ever so weakly, Buford held up his hand. “Sally…”

“I’m sorry, Buford,” Sally said as she walked away with the football star. “But he’s Chad Becker!”

“Aw yeah,” Chad said. “I’m Chad Becker, baby!” I’m gonna be awesome forever!”

Tagged , , ,
May 28 2017
Leave a comment
Toilet Gator

Toilet Gator – Chapter 64

presentation01

“Arrrgh!”

Little Buford was used to all sorts of bizarre sounds coming from his Momma’s bedroom. This one was louder and angrier than usual, but that didn’t stop Buford from concentrating on his tenth hour of Karate Fighter 7 of the day.

A shirtless, portly man with a dirty beard stumbled out Roxy’s bedroom with blood gushing from his arm. He jumped about the room as he pulled his pants on.

“Who the hell keeps an alligator in the house?” the man shouted. “Honestly!”

Roxy stepped out of the bedroom, clad in leather lingerie with a leather hat on her head and a riding crop in her hand. “I’m sorry! Buford!”

Buford paused the game. “What Momma?”

“I thought I told you to keep that monster chained up in the yard!” Momma said.

Fear washed over the little boy as he realized the mistake he made. Skippy waddled out into the sitting room with a few drips of blood trickling from his mouth.

“I’m sorry, Momma!” Buford said. “I plumb forgot.”

“I’m outta here,” the random man said.

“You still owe me a hundred for the uh…” Roxy looked at Buford and censored herself. “Additional activities.”

“A hundred?” the man asked. “You know much I’m gonna have to shell out when I go to the emergency room to get shots for this bullshit? You know how much money I’m going to lose by taking a day off of work? I’m never going to patronize your vagina ever again, Roxy!”

“Aw come on,” Roxy said. “It was a freak accident.”

“I’ll be taking my business elsewhere!” the random man said as he stormed out of the trailer.

Buford attached a leash to a collar around the gator’s neck and yanked on it. “You’ve been a bad boy, Skippy!”

Skippy hanged his head low. “Raarga.”

“Come on,” Buford said. “You’re gonna sit out in the yard and think about what you’ve done.”

Roxy looked at the gator and sneered. She grabbed the leash out of the boy’s hand.

“Momma?” Buford asked.

“This thing has got to go, Buford,” Roxy said.

“But he didn’t mean to…”

“Oh yes he did,” Roxy said as she dragged the gator into the bathroom.

“Momma!” Buford cried. “Don’t hurt him! Skippy’s my best friend in the whole wide world!”

“Then I feel sorry for you, Buford,” Roxy said. “I really do. But that’s the forth customer this little shit has bitten in a week and Momma isn’t about to let her career suffer because of your pitiful social life.”

“Raarga!” Skippy struggled as Roxy picked him up. He snapped at Roxy, but she managed to avoid his jaws long enough to hurl him into the toilet.

“What are you doing?!” Buford cried.

“What I should have done a long time ago!” Roxy replied. She pulled off a high heel shoe and whacked little Skippy in the head repeatedly, over and over again until his tiny frame was stuck firmly in the toilet.

Buford felt sick as he saw his mother’s hand reach for the flusher. “No Momma!”

“You’ll thank me for this one day, son,” Momma said. “You aren’t gonna be right in the head if you spend all your time with this scaly little prick.”

Mother and son battled it out over the flush handle, the woman continuing to reach for it and the boy continuing to swat her hand away.

“I love him, Momma!” Buford shouted.

“It’s either him or us, baby!” Roxy said. “Alligators are nothing but man eating machines. Sure, he’s cute now but I swear, one day he’ll devour us whole.”

“He’ll never do that!” Buford said. “Skippy’s a good boy! Tell her, Skippy!”

“Raarga!” Skippy shouted as he wiggled his front flippers, desperately trying to escape from the bowl.

Roxy pushed the boy away and pulled the flush handle. The toilet instantly overflowed and filled the bathroom floor with water.

“Damn it!” Roxy said as she looked around the room. “Where the hell is my plunger?”

The prostitute wagged a finger at her son. “You stay put! I’m going to the neighbor’s to borrow a plunger and don’t you dare help that little varmint escape, do you hear me?”

Buford cried. “I hear you, Momma.”

“I swear, Buford, if that little monster isn’t still in that shitter when I come back I will tan your hide something fierce!”

Roxy left. Buford ignored his mother’s commands and grabbed Skippy’s front legs. He pulled and pulled.

“Come on, Skippy!” Buford said.

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“We gotta get you outta here, Skip!” Buford said.

Skippy struggled, splashing water everywhere. Buford pulled and pulled but his pet would not budge.

“Skippy, please!” Buford shouted. “Push with all you got! I can’t live without you!”

A minute later, Roxy returned with a big black toilet plunger. She pushed the boy aside and plopped the rubber business end of the tool squarely on Skippy’s head.

“Raarga!”

“Get down there!” Roxy said as she plunged the gator.

“Momma!” Buford shouted. “Please!”

“Buford,” Roxy said. “I’m sorry you had to figure this out so soon but the world is a rough place and sometimes people gotta make tough decisions. I know you love this little son of a bitch but he has got to go!”

“Raarga, raarga, raarga!” Skippy flailed about wildly as each plunge pushed him lower and lower into the bowl. Finally, Roxy pulled the flush lever and presto! The gator was gone, delivered to the grimy depths of the sewer system below.

Buford sat on the edge of the bath tub, balling his eyes out. “Skippy! Noo! Why, God, why?!”

Roxy set the plunger down and attempted to hug the boy.

“Get away from me!” Buford shouted. “Murderer! You killed my best friend!”

Roxy sighed. “Son, sometimes I think you might need some help, like a counselor or something to help you with your issues.”

Mother and son waited in silence for a moment. “But then I figure it would be way too much work to drive your ass to a counselor and honestly who’s got the money to pay for it so come on, just assume that a counselor would tell you to stop being a creepy little shit and then just follow that advice and stop being a creepy little shit, OK?”

“I hate you,” Buford mumbled.

“Aww now,” Roxy said. “Is that a nice thing to say to your Momma?”

“I wish you were dead,” Buford said.

Roxy teared up. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do!” Buford shouted. “And I wish I was never born! Go away.”

“Buford,” Roxy said. “Honey, I just…”

“Go away!” Buford screeched.

Roxy abided and left. Buford sat there crying for a half hour before he finally peered down the empty toilet bowl.

“Skippy? Hey, Skippy? You down there?”

Buford sniffed and dried his eyes. “Skippy. I just want you to know I didn’t want Momma to do that and I hope you’re ok. Are you ok?”

The boy sat in silence for awhile until a feint sound echoed its way up the pipe and out of the toilet bowl. “Raarga.”

Buford smiled with elation. “Skippy! You’re alive!”

“Raarga.”

“What’s it like down there?” Buford asked.

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Buford said.

“Raarga, raarga,” Skippy replied.

“Oh,” Buford said. “That does sound bad.”

“Raarga, raarga, raarga, raarga!” Skippy said.

“No boy,” Buford said. “You can’t come back up. If you do, Momma will just flush you again.”

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“What?” Buford asked. “No, you can’t eat Momma.”

“Raarga.”

“Because she’s my Momma! Plus, if you do, I won’t have no one to take care of me and make me macaroni and cheese with cut up hot dog bits.”

“Raarga, raarga,” Skippy said.

Buford smiled. “Yeah, I suppose I can flush some of that down for you once in awhile.”

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“I’m glad you’re alive, Skippy,” Buford said. “I guess you’ll just have to live down there for awhile. We won’t be able to see each other for now but one day I’ll be a grown man and I’ll be real professional and responsible. I’ll make a lot of money and buy my own place, a great big spread where you’ll be able to roam free and we can be together forever and ever.”

“Raarga,” Skippy said.

“What do you mean you won’t hold your breath?” Buford asked.

Tagged , ,
← Older posts
Newer posts →