With a conspiratorial nod to Jack, the guitarist lifted his instrument to his head and started strumming, using his mouth to control a filter. The result sounded much like human speech. The guitarist then tapped into the enemies' radio signal and, from the stage in the corner of the open-air stone courtyard, he broadcast the subversive message. He would trick the enemies into beginning too early.
"Alright, breaker one-niner, all units go, repeat, all units are a-go." Through the visual electronic fuzz, the enemy's plan was set in motion. From one corner of the stage, a procession of string players walked out into the open, smiling at Jack and the rest of the band. Not wanting them to know they'd been sabotaged, Jack smiled back broadly.
One violinist had two nude figurines perched on her bow. She seemed particularly proud of them.
"Oh, those are very nice figurines you've got there!" said Jack, trying to hide his delighted disdain.
"Oh, you think so? Thank you!" said the violinist with genuine enthusiasm; it appeared the ruse was working.
"Oh yes, oh yes," offered Jack.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Refurbished Hall
The college dining hall had been beautifully renovated. One wall had been cut away, revealing a ravishing mountainous landscape, and the remaining walls had been painted a pure white and imbued with odd, glassy geometry.
Up front, a slightly husky man was trying to appear cool. Though he had once been a peer to those in the gathered student body, now it was his job to explain the hunt and to look like a badass doing it. He was having mild success, mostly due to the smoldering cigarette hanging from his lips.
In the balcony, LeVick asked a pertinent and well-constructed question. When she was done, the husky man's cigarette had built up a large tail of ash.
The dining hall was vacated. Jack took in the scenery and was delighted to find that the renovations to campus were sufficiently extensive to alleviate some of his emotional blocks. Looking down into the river valley, the view was now unobstructed, allowing him to see a long line of swimmers making their way downstream. Jack was a little worried at the amount of trees that had been cleared, but he got used to it after a short while.
He began taking pictures on his digital camera; he wanted to share the beautiful scene with others. Looking down to examine the pictures, he found only a swirling green vortex.
Up front, a slightly husky man was trying to appear cool. Though he had once been a peer to those in the gathered student body, now it was his job to explain the hunt and to look like a badass doing it. He was having mild success, mostly due to the smoldering cigarette hanging from his lips.
In the balcony, LeVick asked a pertinent and well-constructed question. When she was done, the husky man's cigarette had built up a large tail of ash.
The dining hall was vacated. Jack took in the scenery and was delighted to find that the renovations to campus were sufficiently extensive to alleviate some of his emotional blocks. Looking down into the river valley, the view was now unobstructed, allowing him to see a long line of swimmers making their way downstream. Jack was a little worried at the amount of trees that had been cleared, but he got used to it after a short while.
He began taking pictures on his digital camera; he wanted to share the beautiful scene with others. Looking down to examine the pictures, he found only a swirling green vortex.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Night Waitng
Jack sat in the metal chair alongside the sidewalk, looking around. The city had mellowed now that it was night, but here and there was an occasional pedestrian and cars still passed intermittently. He looked to his left at the amorphous bookstore; it was closed, but the dim lights within revealed the checkout counter and the stacks beyond.
He wanted to wait, so he did. He was feeling rather melancholic. Settling further down into the chair and lowering his head deeper within his sweatshirt, he considered the stack of receipts sitting on the table in front of him. These slips of paper contained carefully scripted numbers and figures from an earlier time in Jack's life, and he regarded them with a mix of stale pride and regret. While he enjoyed the artfulness with which he'd created them, they were a forceful reminder of all his youthful folly, his amateur missteps and misinformed ideas. Worse yet, he'd been proud of them at the time, a pride for what he now realized had been the most forgettable kind of mediocrity. He felt very strongly that he needed to wait at this sidewalk table so that he could communicate these feelings the his past self, should the young phantasm happen by.
Montano appeared, exiting from within the closed bookstore. He walked the path, turned right and proceeding down the sidewalk. Jack watched his approach pensively. Montano stopped at Jack's post and considered the table and empty chair across from the glum lad.
"Do I sit down?" wondered Montano aloud, more to himself, it seemed. Jack remained quiet while Montano sagely rubbed his chin. He vaguely wanted Montano to sit, and just before he'd decided to communicate this preference, Montano stalked off down the street. Jack turned his head to watch Montano's departure. Montano, too, looked back at intervals to Jack before he reached the crosswalk and started across the street, skirting a pair of pedestrians traveling in the opposite direction.
Jack turned back to his table and picked up one of the diner receipts. He studied the front, with its numbers and notes, pausing on one describing something about pen caps in his wrists. It seemed a little violent. So silly, thought Jack with a sigh. He placed the receipt back into the pile and hoisted his feet up onto the opposite chair, sinking even further into his own. He felt very warm and fuzzy within the bowels of his brown sweatshirt and blue wool cap. The wind started to gently rock him back and forth, and he closed his eyes in contentment. On some level he knew that it was folly to wait for his past self, but on the surface he clung to the idea, much like a child maintains that her stuffed animal has the spark of life.
Jack opened his eyes and looked to his right to stare once more at Montano across the street. When Montano noticed Jack's eyes following him, he threw up his hands in a carefree manner and started to return to Jack's table. Jack wondered what Montano would think about the reason for his vigil.
Upon reaching the table, Montano lifted Jack's feet from the opposite chair, sat down, placed them on his knees, and removed Jack's shoes. Jack became worried about the smell his feet might be producing.
"They're wet..." said Montano, frowning slightly. He let out an abrupt laugh. "Ha! Why would I think they wouldn't be wet? Hahaha!!" laughed Montano, putting Jack's feet and shoes on the ground. Jack hurriedly bent down to deal with his bare feet, but he was glad that Montano was laughing.
He wanted to wait, so he did. He was feeling rather melancholic. Settling further down into the chair and lowering his head deeper within his sweatshirt, he considered the stack of receipts sitting on the table in front of him. These slips of paper contained carefully scripted numbers and figures from an earlier time in Jack's life, and he regarded them with a mix of stale pride and regret. While he enjoyed the artfulness with which he'd created them, they were a forceful reminder of all his youthful folly, his amateur missteps and misinformed ideas. Worse yet, he'd been proud of them at the time, a pride for what he now realized had been the most forgettable kind of mediocrity. He felt very strongly that he needed to wait at this sidewalk table so that he could communicate these feelings the his past self, should the young phantasm happen by.
Montano appeared, exiting from within the closed bookstore. He walked the path, turned right and proceeding down the sidewalk. Jack watched his approach pensively. Montano stopped at Jack's post and considered the table and empty chair across from the glum lad.
"Do I sit down?" wondered Montano aloud, more to himself, it seemed. Jack remained quiet while Montano sagely rubbed his chin. He vaguely wanted Montano to sit, and just before he'd decided to communicate this preference, Montano stalked off down the street. Jack turned his head to watch Montano's departure. Montano, too, looked back at intervals to Jack before he reached the crosswalk and started across the street, skirting a pair of pedestrians traveling in the opposite direction.
Jack turned back to his table and picked up one of the diner receipts. He studied the front, with its numbers and notes, pausing on one describing something about pen caps in his wrists. It seemed a little violent. So silly, thought Jack with a sigh. He placed the receipt back into the pile and hoisted his feet up onto the opposite chair, sinking even further into his own. He felt very warm and fuzzy within the bowels of his brown sweatshirt and blue wool cap. The wind started to gently rock him back and forth, and he closed his eyes in contentment. On some level he knew that it was folly to wait for his past self, but on the surface he clung to the idea, much like a child maintains that her stuffed animal has the spark of life.
Jack opened his eyes and looked to his right to stare once more at Montano across the street. When Montano noticed Jack's eyes following him, he threw up his hands in a carefree manner and started to return to Jack's table. Jack wondered what Montano would think about the reason for his vigil.
Upon reaching the table, Montano lifted Jack's feet from the opposite chair, sat down, placed them on his knees, and removed Jack's shoes. Jack became worried about the smell his feet might be producing.
"They're wet..." said Montano, frowning slightly. He let out an abrupt laugh. "Ha! Why would I think they wouldn't be wet? Hahaha!!" laughed Montano, putting Jack's feet and shoes on the ground. Jack hurriedly bent down to deal with his bare feet, but he was glad that Montano was laughing.
Bayou Romp
Jack slid down the road, rapidly gaining speed, buildings passing by on both sides as he got closer to the bottom of the hill and the bayou. Behind, headlights flashed. Aliss was gaining on him.
He entered the water with a splash of mud and water, followed quickly by Aliss in her vehicle. He swam across the swamp, weaving in and out of canoes and kayaks. Overhead was either a high, cavernous ceiling or a knotted blanket of overhanging vegetation, Jack couldn't tell which.
"I was just giving Kaaly her lesson," Jack explained to the kayakers.
"Aww, it's okay, it's gonna be alright," said Aliss with her southern twang.
Jack grabbed the back of one of the canoes. The rider, Dany, turned around and said, "Hey, Jack, you yankin' me back there?" But she was too late; Jack had already let go of her boat and continued swimming.
He reached a section of exceptionally clear water. Submerging himself, he saw a line of young girls doing underwater handstands, smiling excitedly. He watched for a while until Petunia and Gunther arrived and marshaled the entire group over to a precipice leading to much deeper area of water. She had something to show them.
"Underneath, it's crufter, pris hill," she said, motioning down below her feet. The group stood waist deep in water, listening to Petunia. Beyond the precipice, the depth of the marsh dropped to fifteen or twenty feet, though the water was still clear. She explained that there was an underwater tunnel they needed to reach.
"No, Petunia, it's too deep," protested Gunther.
"It's just underneath here," Petunia insisted. "Hoeksfeld drew it." With that, Petunia and Gunther dove down and swam into the mouth of the tunnel. Jack watched them recede into the darkness, and his vision was taken up by a progression of cards, some overturned, but most grayed out.
"Anyone figure out the cards yet? First one to do it, wins," said Jack to the students. "It took me about four years," he added jokingly.
Inside the tunnel, Gunther shrugged at Petunia. She pointed up to the ceiling at a detailed drawing of a ferocious tiger.
"See?" she asked Gunther. "See the toad?"
"Uh, yeah..." Gunther said slowly. Watching the scene, Jack felt a growing sense of dread. The pair started to swim out of the tunnel, as they were running out of air. Suddenly, from withing the bowels of the tunnel, an enormous sea serpent snapped out with its jaws, seizing Petunia and dragging her back into its lair. Gunther quickly grabbed her back, only to have her immediately snatched by the serpent once more. This process repeated a total of three times, and each time the serpent withdrew itself deeper into the tunnel. On the surface, a complex system of pulleys set in a square wooden frame was being used as a counter weight to aid in the rescue efforts.
Finally, the serpent pulled Petunia so deep it seemed she would be lost forever. "It's too late, gotta abandon her," someone said.
Gunther became Sonic. Petunia became Tails.
"No! Not when my friend is in trouble!" Sonic shouted as he made a valiant sprint into the tunnel, pulling Tails out at the last moment. The cycle continued: the serpent grabbing Tails, Sonic saving him, the serpent grabbing him again. It became a complicated, multi-staged tug-of-war. On the surface, Jack tried to help Sonic by adding weights to the pulley system, but it was very difficult.
He entered the water with a splash of mud and water, followed quickly by Aliss in her vehicle. He swam across the swamp, weaving in and out of canoes and kayaks. Overhead was either a high, cavernous ceiling or a knotted blanket of overhanging vegetation, Jack couldn't tell which.
"I was just giving Kaaly her lesson," Jack explained to the kayakers.
"Aww, it's okay, it's gonna be alright," said Aliss with her southern twang.
Jack grabbed the back of one of the canoes. The rider, Dany, turned around and said, "Hey, Jack, you yankin' me back there?" But she was too late; Jack had already let go of her boat and continued swimming.
He reached a section of exceptionally clear water. Submerging himself, he saw a line of young girls doing underwater handstands, smiling excitedly. He watched for a while until Petunia and Gunther arrived and marshaled the entire group over to a precipice leading to much deeper area of water. She had something to show them.
"Underneath, it's crufter, pris hill," she said, motioning down below her feet. The group stood waist deep in water, listening to Petunia. Beyond the precipice, the depth of the marsh dropped to fifteen or twenty feet, though the water was still clear. She explained that there was an underwater tunnel they needed to reach.
"No, Petunia, it's too deep," protested Gunther.
"It's just underneath here," Petunia insisted. "Hoeksfeld drew it." With that, Petunia and Gunther dove down and swam into the mouth of the tunnel. Jack watched them recede into the darkness, and his vision was taken up by a progression of cards, some overturned, but most grayed out.
"Anyone figure out the cards yet? First one to do it, wins," said Jack to the students. "It took me about four years," he added jokingly.
Inside the tunnel, Gunther shrugged at Petunia. She pointed up to the ceiling at a detailed drawing of a ferocious tiger.
"See?" she asked Gunther. "See the toad?"
"Uh, yeah..." Gunther said slowly. Watching the scene, Jack felt a growing sense of dread. The pair started to swim out of the tunnel, as they were running out of air. Suddenly, from withing the bowels of the tunnel, an enormous sea serpent snapped out with its jaws, seizing Petunia and dragging her back into its lair. Gunther quickly grabbed her back, only to have her immediately snatched by the serpent once more. This process repeated a total of three times, and each time the serpent withdrew itself deeper into the tunnel. On the surface, a complex system of pulleys set in a square wooden frame was being used as a counter weight to aid in the rescue efforts.
Finally, the serpent pulled Petunia so deep it seemed she would be lost forever. "It's too late, gotta abandon her," someone said.
Gunther became Sonic. Petunia became Tails.
"No! Not when my friend is in trouble!" Sonic shouted as he made a valiant sprint into the tunnel, pulling Tails out at the last moment. The cycle continued: the serpent grabbing Tails, Sonic saving him, the serpent grabbing him again. It became a complicated, multi-staged tug-of-war. On the surface, Jack tried to help Sonic by adding weights to the pulley system, but it was very difficult.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Skeptical Diner
The enclosed patio off of the main school building was full of diners, despite the late hour. Jack sat down in the outermost of the two sections and hastily ate his meal, a dish composed of rice, guacamole, chips and meat. After finishing two servings, he got up and got up and retrieved two more, this time of a different dish.
Seeing that he had only five minutes left, Jack quickly finished and went over to the kiosk to get his appearance changed. His once blond hair became dark black, and his features were now Greek as opposed to Irish. With his new look, he was able to score more food. This time he sat in the inner section of the patio.
"Didn't you used to be a hotdog guy?" asked a young mean next to Jack.
"No," replied Jack.
"Are you sure?" queried the young man suspiciously. "I'm pretty sure I saw you looking different before."
"Nope, wasn't me," Jack said, trying to sound convincing.
"Good, because it would be stupid to change just to eat more. It's, like, an extra $2."
Jack turned back to finishing his meal, feeling like the guy was still skeptical. Soon, the bell rang, signaling the end of the meal period. Looking down, he saw a pink slip that he knew he'd need to fill out:
-Were you ever someone else?-
All PE and PPE variants must be reported.
Under the "previous appearance" section he scribbled "hotdog Irish," and under "current appearance" he wrote "Caucasian-Mexican." As he got up to leave, he turned to the skeptical young man.
"You know, you were right the first time,"said Jack.
"Hmm?" replied the young man.
"I used to be a hotdog Irish," admitted Jack. The young man nodded. "I could tell you didn't actually believe me."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, from the way you questioned me. Right?" asked Jack.
"Yeah, I guess I didn't fully believe you," answered the young man.
"Maybe 90 percent?"
"Yeah."
They reentered the school house. "It is a small school," remarked Jack to nobody in particular as he looked around at the size of the building.
Seeing that he had only five minutes left, Jack quickly finished and went over to the kiosk to get his appearance changed. His once blond hair became dark black, and his features were now Greek as opposed to Irish. With his new look, he was able to score more food. This time he sat in the inner section of the patio.
"Didn't you used to be a hotdog guy?" asked a young mean next to Jack.
"No," replied Jack.
"Are you sure?" queried the young man suspiciously. "I'm pretty sure I saw you looking different before."
"Nope, wasn't me," Jack said, trying to sound convincing.
"Good, because it would be stupid to change just to eat more. It's, like, an extra $2."
Jack turned back to finishing his meal, feeling like the guy was still skeptical. Soon, the bell rang, signaling the end of the meal period. Looking down, he saw a pink slip that he knew he'd need to fill out:
-Were you ever someone else?-
All PE and PPE variants must be reported.
Under the "previous appearance" section he scribbled "hotdog Irish," and under "current appearance" he wrote "Caucasian-Mexican." As he got up to leave, he turned to the skeptical young man.
"You know, you were right the first time,"said Jack.
"Hmm?" replied the young man.
"I used to be a hotdog Irish," admitted Jack. The young man nodded. "I could tell you didn't actually believe me."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, from the way you questioned me. Right?" asked Jack.
"Yeah, I guess I didn't fully believe you," answered the young man.
"Maybe 90 percent?"
"Yeah."
They reentered the school house. "It is a small school," remarked Jack to nobody in particular as he looked around at the size of the building.
Guidance Harlot
Above the dais, a sign read, "Boys, come see the guidance counselor." The woman standing underneath, wearing naught but undergarments, began to strike promiscuous poses, entreating and seducing the children gathered around her. Initially, the many young people in the sunny Mediterranean courtyard showed disinterest, sparing the model a brief glance before returning to their conversations. As the display continued, the children became more agitated, and before long the strange looks and whispered comments transformed into fearful shrieking. The kids ran hastily away from the woman on the dais; it appeared they'd had enough.
Day turned to night, and Jack walked through a parking lot dotted with semi cabs in various states of disrepair. As he passed a trailer, it opened and a flood of jumpsuit-clad people streamed forth. Jack watched with interest as they exited.
"There's even more," said a voice.
Sure enough, the team advanced on one of the cabs and laid out a collection of scrap metal. In a beautifully choreographed ballet, the team began bending the metal into the shape of a trailer, each person executing the task in fluid, wave-like motion with one another.
Jack watched for a bit before continuing on to the warehouse on the other end of the lot. He entered, found a small room off the main factory floor, and inspected the clothes there.
"Poster, huh?" said the narrator, whom Jack figured to be the principal. "She was sexually promiscuous, eh?" he mocked. Jack only half-listened; the derision was meant for the children, not him.
Day turned to night, and Jack walked through a parking lot dotted with semi cabs in various states of disrepair. As he passed a trailer, it opened and a flood of jumpsuit-clad people streamed forth. Jack watched with interest as they exited.
"There's even more," said a voice.
Sure enough, the team advanced on one of the cabs and laid out a collection of scrap metal. In a beautifully choreographed ballet, the team began bending the metal into the shape of a trailer, each person executing the task in fluid, wave-like motion with one another.
Jack watched for a bit before continuing on to the warehouse on the other end of the lot. He entered, found a small room off the main factory floor, and inspected the clothes there.
"Poster, huh?" said the narrator, whom Jack figured to be the principal. "She was sexually promiscuous, eh?" he mocked. Jack only half-listened; the derision was meant for the children, not him.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Art Work
Jack wandered through the art gallery before alighting on a work by Montano. On the wall hung a large piece of white poster paper adorned with crudely scrawled doodles and vaguely discernible characters. A line was drawn across the center, which Jack assumed was the side profile of a table. Above this table were the words "Whatchya gonna do, n industry." As Jack moved closer to the poster, he noticed a smiling, self-portrait of the artist standing on the table next to a spider. Despite the limited level of detail afforded by the medium, the expression Montano had given his likeness conveyed things that were hard to decipher.
Tuesday, November 09, 2010
Mild Crash
Jack was investigating the gasworks across the street from SuperAmerica.
"I still like you guys, okay," said a voice that sounded like Ptacirk Stwerat.
"Well, put me on, cuz I'm flying next time," said Jack. He watched the helicopter crash carefully into the mud-filled ditch.
"I still like you guys, okay," said a voice that sounded like Ptacirk Stwerat.
"Well, put me on, cuz I'm flying next time," said Jack. He watched the helicopter crash carefully into the mud-filled ditch.
Wednesday, November 03, 2010
The Survey
"I can tell you one thing about the survey," said the round woman from across the table, "it has a vague formacity."
"A vague formacity?..." replied the man.
"Nicely played!" declared the woman, waving her arm in a triumphant swooping motion.
"A vague formacity?..." replied the man.
"Nicely played!" declared the woman, waving her arm in a triumphant swooping motion.
A Motive
The three characters had gone. Jack jumped up towards the ceiling and caught the lip of a small indentation set in the protruding upper wall with his fingertips. He began to do overhand pull-ups with ease.
Ok, thought Jack as an idea appeared from an unknown location. I can use sexual desire to motivate my pull-ups. Closing his eyes, Jack reluctantly continued pulling himself toward the ceiling and lowering himself back down.
Ok, thought Jack as an idea appeared from an unknown location. I can use sexual desire to motivate my pull-ups. Closing his eyes, Jack reluctantly continued pulling himself toward the ceiling and lowering himself back down.
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