The She Shed

Victor's marriage with Sheryl had been what many would consider typical.  They had a nice house in the suburbs.  They both worked.  Their marriage had it's share of ups and downs as all marriages do.  There were things he didn't notice at first.  Things he thought was normal.  

He saw less of the his friends over the years.  The guys he had known since high school who he always enjoyed grabbing a beer with.  Victor was not sure when those get togethers stopped.  He noticed that his supply of beer was not getting replenished unless he bought it himself.  He did not drink often, but did enjoy a cold beer when watching football or after a long day of work.  There always seemed to be a good stock of wine around though.  Sheryl had no qualms about offering him a glass.  Drinking wine while watching football did not feel right.  It did feel right when watching reality television with Sheryl.  Victor was not sure when the Bachelor took presidence over the Steelers. 

Victor would work in the yard to pass the time.  Getting outside was a nice escape.  Victor kept his tools and lawn equipment meticulously placed in the shed in the back yard.  Everything easy to find and ready to be used.  Of course, he did not all the tools and equipment all the time.  It took a while to notice things were missing.  Sheryl claimed to not know anything about it.  When the lawnmower was suddenly relocated to the garage and a little coffee table and chair replaced it in the shed Victor realized he had lost that space.

Victor's items, the ones he could still find, ended up in the garage.  Much of it boxed up.  The house had acquired more items that were either scented or not to be touched.  Victor spent his days at work, and would promptly return home to try to touch as little as possible while Sheryl sipped wine and watched America's Got Talent.  He had to return home quickly or Sheryl would call his cell phone and ask him why he was not home.  Victor loathed traffic as even a five minute delay would trigger a call.

He found himself going to bed earlier.  He felt tired all the time.  After a robust dinner of salad that Sheryl had prepared for them because it was healthier Victor turned in early.  His sleep was often troubled, but leaving the bed in the middle of the night might make Sheryl ask him why he was not comfortable sharing a bed with her.

It was that restless sleep that led Victor to discover Sheryl's absense in the dead of night.  He rose up to look for her and that led him to peer out of the window and see the light coming from the shed.  He saw Sheryl sitting down there alone.  He did not ask her about it the next morning.  

The following night was the same.  He became senstive to her slipping from the bed nightly.  Every night it was the same.  Every night she would go down to the shed.  Her shed.  Victor would be back in bed by the time she returned.  He noticed a faint scent on her on her returns.  The faint smell of pumpkin spice.

Victor felt himself becoming more sluggish and tired as this went on.  He figured it was the interrupted sleep as he could not help but get up after Sheryl went out back to watch her.  Every night, the same thing.  

The shed had been completely redecorated.  It only ressembled his old shed in structure.  Now it was the centerpiece of the back yard.  Victor could not help but feel his stomach sink whenever he was near it.  After seeing himself in the mirror and seeing the sunken man looking back at him, he knew he had to do something.  He was waiting away.

Victor investigated the shed when Sheryl was having brunch with her friends on Saturday morning.  It took everything he could muster to step inside of it.  The scent of spices and herbs was overpowering.  He stumbled and his foot shifted the rug on the floor.  That's when he saw them.

The sigils.  The strange arcane symbols.  They looked like they were almost pulsating.  He knew then.  He was wasting away as Sheryl was becoming more vibrant and happy.  

He had to destroy it.  It was either the shed or him.  He knew Sheryl could be home at any time.  Vicotr rushed to get some gasoline from the garage which he used to store in the shed for his lawnmower.  He doused the inside and lit it.  He had hoped it would be completely destroyed by the time Sheryl returned.  He was not so lucky.

It was not long before the shed was rebuilt.  It was nearly identical to as it was before.  Victor was defeated.  He knew he was doomed.  He walked the small dog Sheryl had bought herself to comfort her with the burning of the shed.  He walked the neighborhood and looked at the yards.  It started out as only a few at first but the number grew.  More sheds.  Victor noticed more men walking small skittish dogs as well.  They were all walking, hunched over, drained.  Victor would meet the gaze of their hollow eyes.  He was desperate to try to connect with any of them, to try to figure out how to stop this.

It never happened.  Sheryl would not like it.

Impromptu Short

This is a brief piece I did spur of the moment on Twitter in response to an online friend's tweet.

Once upon a time... in a video arcade... the year was 1983...

Amid the glow of the neon lights and flicking screens, he saw her. Her hand moved frantically over the track ball as the other pressed the fired button rapidly. He placed his quarter on the rail on the Centipede machine and watched her.

Her movements were rhythmic as she played, a steady sway to the music of the machines collected there. If she was aware of his presence next to her, she did not betray it. Her focus was purely on the destruction of the glowing, animated insects on the screen before her.

Another level cleared, her green eyes, shining with electric reflection, darted up to the score. The top score was within striking distance. "You got this." He offered to encourage her. She said nothing as she opened fire on the next wave of creatures.

A crowd had begun to form around the machine as the collective consciousness within the arcade sensed a high score in danger. He had a front row view of her spitting profanity and giving the finger to a virtual spider that cost her a valuable life. She earned another soon after.

"Come on" she muttered to herself as the score drew near. His gaze drifted from the screen to the desperation twisting her alluring features.

The score fell to her skills to the cheer of the assembled crowd. "YES!" She cried out in a tone that burned into his mind and which he would forever use as the gauge to measure the true satisfaction of a woman.

Her focus wavered for a moment costing her another life. The assault of sprites was relentless, but she was determined to put an exclamation point on her victory. Her breathing was labored and her legs shook a bit. Her run finally came to an end.

The adrenaline high of victory was already subsiding as she entered her initials on the leader board, "QTX". She turned from the machine to the applause of the crowd. His quarter on the rail deemed his turn was next by arcade etiquette. But she was walking away.

He snatched his quarter off the rail and pursued her. He lost her briefly in the flickering lights and flow of gamers moving through the arcade. He found her sitting at a table with her plush lips pursed around a straw as she slowly sipped a Tab Cola.

He paused for a moment, unsure of how to approach her. The TV mounted on the wall next to the snack bar provided a soundtrack of MTV videos. He hoped for a song to give him just the right music to make his attempt.

"Hold me now" by the Thompson Twins came on and he knew there would not be a better time. He walked over to her. "Great game." He managed to make audible over the music and the background noise of the arcade. "I know." She replied with a knowing smile, looking him over.

He asked if he could join her. She pushed the chair across from her out without saying a word. He sat down and struggled to think of what to say hoping to not sound stupid. "You only come up to me because of my Centipede skills?" She asked baiting the hook? "Yes."

He couldn't bring himself to tell her how pretty she thought she was. He could barely manage to tell her anything. So, she asked the questions. She handled him as she had handled the trackball, smoothly and putting him in all positions she wanted him in.

He forgot about the quarters in his pocket. He forgot about getting home before his parent's curfew. He forgot to tell her he was a junior high school student and was tall for his age. She forgot to ask.

Eventually, she asked him about classes. The truth came out. She was leaving soon for college. She smiled at him again knowing she would have to crush his infatuation. But he was sweet. And he seemed kind. She stood up and told him to do likewise.

He stood nervously before her. Her green eyes pierced his young soul. She moved to him. Leaning in, her soft lips pressed to his cheek. In his utter shock, he barely felt her soft hand expertly slipping into his pocket.

She pulled back and smiled. Her hand slid smoothly out of his pocket and she held a shiny quarter between her fingertips in front of her lips. "Consider this on my rail. You'll be ready to play one day." She left, and he returned to that arcade every weekend afterwards.

The Ballad of Steve and Larry

Saw this video.  Made a comment about making a fan-fiction, and so of course I had to do it.

It was a tense day in the far away land known has Minnesota. Queen Ashley looked to skies which were hazy and odd looking, like the distorted dreams of one who had eaten too much pie. She feared for her subjects, many of whom were too busy looking at cat videos to take note of the possible, impending threat. The noble queen stood atop the outer wall of her keep with a cool evening breeze blowing through her blonde hair. She pondered what was to come, much like she pondered the severity of hangovers after nights of much hearty beer.

It was then that the enemy struck. It was trolls. Hundreds of them. They brayed and screeched; yowling to the heavens about the queen’s editing and content. They shouted how she was derivative and added nothing of value to the ether of ideas that swirled through the world. The queen knew that her loyal subjects would rise up to defend her, but she also knew too well the harsh consequences that could come from such skirmishes. Insults would be hurled. There would be flames; OH how there would be flames.

Well, if the trolls wanted flames, then flames Queen Ashley would give them. The foolish trolls must not have known that her realm was protected. The cool evening breeze strengthened to a gust; a gust which could only be caused by the mighty dragon, Larry! As Ashley took to the highest tower to survey the coming battle, Larry swooped overhead. His passing made her hair and dress wave and dance like parking tickets before a leaf blower. His mighty, green wings carried him straight towards the troll hoard.

The trolls unleashed their battle cry of “Tits or GTFO!” and the sky was then filled with spears and arrows aimed at the noble lizard. With one flap, Larry created a mighty wind which scattered the spears and arrows. Still the taunts came. Still the torches were waved. Larry belched forth a mighty fireball which sent the little hobgoblins scurrying and squealing, like a tween girl in the face of an annoying Canadian pop star. Larry took pride in his earnest work defending the realm of Queen Ashley and it smiled as best it could. Still, he was a dragon and even smiling he looked like he was ready to eat someone. He spied a tasty looking morsel of a troll. The troll was a fat one, fresh from his underground dwelling beneath the home of his parents. Larry swooped down to gobble up the smelly bastard.

It was then that disaster struck. The trolls had an ace up their sweat-stained sleeve. A mimetic catapult hurled a ridiculously overused image and words which were somehow meant to be clever at Larry. Caught unawares, the dragon was struck hard and crashed down to the cold ground of the battle. He struggled to regain his composure before the trolls overtook him. Then came the chants from the hoard. “FAIL!”

Queen Ashley could not let her noble ally be taken by the horrid, unwashed masses. She hurried to the deepest dwelling of the keep. There she came to her realm’s ultimate defense: the Supreme Tactical Electronic Vindication Engine. Standing before it she uttered the activation voice command “Hey there” and with a wink of her pretty eyes the behemoth came to life.

Rising up from the depths of the keep, S.T.E.V.E. the robot strode towards the battle. He was bright and shiny with flashing lights and waving arms. “WTF?!,” howled the troll hoard before S.T.E.V.E. scattered them with one swing of his mighty, slinky-looking robot arm. This allowed plenty of time for Larry to compose himself and once again take to the skies.

The mighty robot and noble dragon could not be swayed or deterred by the verbal barbs and incessant flames of their annoying foes. Queen Ashley retook her post in the high tower and looking down upon the scene of the trolls retreating to her dank dwellings with Larry and S.T.E.V.E. is pursuit. A smile played at her ruby lips as she uttered the cry of victory. “PWN’D!”

Must type or goblins will eat me...

Its Wednesday, June 8, 2011, I'm lacking something clever to say, and this is The Side. Time is working against me, so let's just get to it.

WRITER BOY

I'm pretty sure that sometimes there a little animated face that pops up on the "new post" page that stares at me when I'm staring at the keyboard try to think about what to write. Friday's are easy. The little animated goblin doesn't come out to make faces at me and mock me for not knowing what to type about. I can do my comic book review and get on with my life. Wednesday and Sunday and much more difficult. While I find great comfort in familiarity of routine I also have a need to create.

Creating routinely works well in theory, but its not like exercising routinely. Both require discipline. Both require time. However if you have time and no health problems you can exercise. You can be healthy as a horse, have all the time in the world, as well as a ton of mind altering substances, and that doesn't guarantee anything is going to happen. However, when you have a deadline, it can make something happen. It forces the matter. There are people who say you shouldn't force creativity, but these are people who either don't create, spend tons of time waiting for inspiration, or have so many ideas popping out of them that the rest of us creative types want to stab them.

I figured out long ago that I'm much easier to be around when I'm creating. I'm actually rather pleasant when I'm drawing regularly. Unfortunately, I'm not drawing regularly, and I haven't done much by way of fiction writing in a long time. Blogging helps, but its like taking medication to keep the nastier symptoms from coming out. Unfortunately time isn't on my side. You can have the best ideas in the world, but when you don't have time to sit and work on them nothing's going to happen. I don't mean time as in, well we're all here and the kids are playing, I mean time as in everyone get out and let me work. There's an old saying that writing isn't a dirty process, but its best done privately and its good to wash your hands afterwards. When you work and have kids, its hard to get that alone time.

And that's when the little goblin pops out: when there's a blank page and a deadline looming. Its different for everyone in that position. Most of them probably don't hallucinate. But then again, if they did, it might give them something to write about.

MOVIES!!

Not a review of anything of the sort this time around. Just a nice little bit from what has to be the greatest movie theater ever.



Speaking of movies, Here's a bit of the theme song to the upcoming remake of THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO.



That's it for today. Thankfully, I've got some work today. See, being creative is cool, being able to express that is great, but paying your bills is frakking important. See y'all Friday.

The format is DEAD!

Heads up! Its Wednesday, October 13, 2010, I'm ready to chew nails, and this is the Side. There's nothing really exciting me in the news right now, although the rally in Philly looks like it was a good time. Between the streaking and books getting chucked at the Pop Star-in-Chief it looked like a hell of a party. Of course I had nothing to do with either of these.

The book did miss after all.

DEAD MEN WALKING!!

Death of major fictional characters is always a sticky thing. There's got to be purpose to it. You've got to be ready for the hate mail from the people who love the character. It can be a major undertaking. Nowadays there's a new question facing writers/creators:

"When are they coming back?"

Its different with villains. Villains get to return for the grave pretty much whenever they like. Its an accepted literary double-standard going back to old school gothic literature and the concept of the undying evil. Their return makes them more powerful and mysterious having conquered death and this in turn makes the hero greater since heroes are often defined by their villains. Heroes don't get the luxury of coming back all willy-nilly, or at least they shouldn't. Death is supposed to be the ultimate sacrifice for the hero. And there are occasions where heroes can come back, but it seems like in comics those occasions are getting to be about as rare as Bill Maher being a douchebag.

Sure there's different levels of 'dead'. There's the mysterious death in which a character is presumed dead by their absence. Typically this is after something like an explosion or something folks don't typically live through. There's the recoverable death when the character has something bad happen to them that should kill them, but they receive some sort of care or treatment that the audience doesn't get let in on until later. For example, the hero gets shot, everybody thinks he's dead, because he wasn't moving or maybe even wasn't even breathing, but he was taken to some super medical type place where they saved him. And then there's dead dead. That's the type of dead where there's no question that this character is done in.



Death has become a bit of joke in comics. They used to say Marvel had a revolving door in heaven for as many characters have come back from the dead. Jean Grey of the X-Men is the poster girl for this. Its not really an X-event until she dies. Twice. But not DC has absolutely eclipsed Marvel with "Blackest Night" and "Brightest Day" shenanigans. These two events pretty much confirmed what DC readers have been thinking for a bit. If they think there's some money to be made they'll bring back any character they want despite the significance of their demise. We kind of went along with things when they resurrected Oliver Queen. We rolled our eyes a bit when they brought back Hal Jordan. We knew it was getting flat out stupid when they brought back Barry Allen. Now we have the message that death is pretty much meaningless. This makes me wonder about the next issue of ACTION COMICS in which Lex Luthor will be meeting Death. Sure, she seems chipper enough, but I have to wonder it being made meaningless by Geoff Johns has left her a bit bitter.

There are types of stories in which death is viewed much differently. In some stories the afterlife is a very real place which characters travel to and from. Death gets weird here. They've recently started showing old episodes of DRAGON BALL Z on Saturday mornings and they've gone back to the first time the hero, Goku, died. At this point he went off to train in the afterlife which was cool because it involved a monkey. But he had to get is training done in a year because that's when his friends were supposed to bring him back so he could fight the next big threat. Odd stuff, but that story has its established rules about life and death. Yes, you can get resurrected, but certain criteria have to be met and it can only happen once.

Then there's other stories like the TV series SUPERNATURAL in which both the main characters have been killed and have come back. In this story Heaven and Hell are both very real places and folks from both come to Earth. Stories like this already have an open door to the afterlife. However, heroes traveling there and back is treated very significantly. Its also important as to what goes on while that character is in the afterlife. Typically the characters could not return from the afterlife under their own power and required a "higher power" to bring them back, the exception to this was John Winchester climbing out of Hell. Still, the criteria is fairly well established.

With all these rules and nuances of death of characters, there's nothing wrong with letting a character stay dead. There'll be some folks in the audience upset, but that's only if the character has a following. In fact if there's an outcry about a character dying, that's probably a good thing because that means the writer made people give a damn about the character. And there's still plenty to do with characters that die if done properly. By 'done properly' I mean the dead has to have some significance. Going back to comics now.

*Hal Jordan, great dead guy. Served as great lesson and cautionary tale about power and morality. Even popped up here and there as a spirit.

*Barry Allen, great dead guy. Was the 'saint' of the DCU having sacrificed himself to save the universe. Popped up here and there thanks to time travelly goodness.

*Ted Kord, awesome dead guy! This character left a really incredible legacy that was picked up on and run with fabulously in titles like BIRDS OF PREY and of course BLUE BEETLE.

Death in literature has meaning. It has to have meaning. If it doesn't then life has a bit less meaning. If you don't care about a character dying, then you didn't care about that character living, and that's a sign of bad writing. So the whole resurrection shell game going on in comics really needs to come to an end, because it cheapens things. It cheapens something that's really very important. Death is supposed to be final for a hero. The ultimate sacrifice. The hero risking death to do what's right isn't risking too much with the resurrection safety net under him.

MUSIC!!

Alrighty, that's all for today. You are free to go on about your daily lives and pine away until Friday when I post again.

Waid made Cap a Derivative of Batman

Hey Nonee Nonee, it's Wednesday, July 21, 2010 and in a startling change of pace I'm actually wearing pants as I post this. In another change of pace, I've discontinued the "Pop Quiz" section as one one person has actually answered any of the questions since I started doing them. See? Even an e-troglodyte can e-evolve.

Today's Side is a bit light on news and heavy on my opining and rambling. I'd have gone through more effort to hunt down more news, but I'm working hard to curb the crime spree of a three-year-old who despite knowing you have to pay for things in stores thought it was a good idea to haul ass out of an FYE in the mall with a SUPER FRIENDS DVD before paying.

OK, that may not technically be a "spree" but that's how these things start!

HOWDY MISTER ROGERS

That's some art that's mostly likely going to be the look Captain America sports in the upcoming movie. They look to be going with WWII era heavily and that's fine by me. Should be fun.

BAT-THEORIES

With Bruce Wayne returning there's a lot going on in the Batman comics. For those new to here and that have not been following Batman, Bruce Wayne was trapped in the past after battling Darkseid. Now something has him bouncing through time and we're told that if he gets back to the present very bad things will happen. Here's some of what we know:

* Bruce Wayne traveling through time seems to be allowing him to reclaim different aspects of himself and his memory seems to be starting to come back.

* Wayne is also creating a situation that will allow for himself to become Batman.

* Bruce Wayne was at the end of time.

* The Black Glove is shown to be Bruce Wayne's father Thomas in an origin that isn't possible.

* The Black Glove cursed Bruce and it seemed to come true as his very next case led him straight to Darkseid.

* The events that led to the story in BATMAN #666 featuring Dick Grayson's death and Damien Wayne becoming Batman seem to be coming true.

But there's still a lot we don't know and the pertinent questions seem to be:

* What is the true identity of The Black Glove?

* Is there a connection between The Black Glove and Darkseid?

* What is within Bruce Wayne that is so dangerous?

* What is the Joker's hand in this?

So, what are the possibilities? Well there's a lot, but I've got a few thoughts:

* This could be Darkseid centric. After the war we did not see in FINAL CRISIS the New Gods and the Gods of Apokalypse got bounced backwards in time. The methods of the Black Glove and Darkseid resemble each other in that they want to twist and corrupt that which is good. The Black Glove could be one of Darkseid's agents and the alternate origin could be what he hopes to replace the history we know with. What Bruce could be carrying inside him is an "imprint" of Darkseid which is growing and hoping to be reborn when the time is right.

* This could be Devil centric. Going with the notion that the Black Glove is an incarnation of the Devil and let's assume that he's factored in Darkseid with his curse on Batman's cape and cowl. Perhaps he's trying to manipulate events so that Bruce's time traveling somehow allows a situation in which the impossible origin become possible. Its like time and reality are a slinky bouncing down the stairs. the same events keep circling around each other, but each time just a little more removed from the original loop.

This is of course the conjecture of one nutter that really should get more sleep.

BY THE NUMBERS

Currently I have 41 follower on this blog. That's about 30-some more than expected. This also does not take into account the ones that follow that are not shown, so the actual number may indeed be 42. The number of blogs I currently follow is in the single digits. Over on Google Buzz I have just over 150 followers and i follow just over 50. Twitter is another story. My account there is less than a week old. I follow a dozen folks and am followed by two.

My online time is limited so there's only so much content I can view and mentally process. That's why the number of things I follow is very limited. Looking at some accounts I see that there are people that follow hundreds, sometimes thousands of people, and they have a few hundred followers themselves. This is the I'll follow you if you'll follow me and really this is pointless for anyone who wants to see content. Its fine if all you want to do is sell sell sell. But consider this if you want people to read and appreciate your content: if they follow hundred of thousands of people, there's not way that they are going to pay any attention to your work. It'll be lost in the shuffle.

Between the blog, Twitter and Buzz two of the three bast higher numbers in followers versus following. It just may be possible that I'm doing something right. Don't faint.

CONGRATULATIONS!

Being that I love comics in a way that may be considered unhealthy, I also love it when people who make good comics get their due. So when Mark Waid was shown the door over at DC I was not happy because he makes great comics. I honestly think some powers that be over there saw him as a bit of a threat because Waid could do his job better and the fans knew it. But that's history and Mister Waid has moved on over to Boom. Boom at the time had been struggling a bit. They had good stuff, but it wasn't quite hitting with readers.

Enter Mark Waid: Editor-in-chief. *Cue dramatic music.*

Now just a couple years later the company has won numerous awards and is doing quite well not only with their existing titles, but they have also bought a great line of kids comics to the forefront, which is something that's been sorely lacking. So now he's gotten a promotion to Chief Creative Officer. He'll be expanding the growth of the company in new and exciting ways. So if you haven't checked out what they're up to already, do so and thank me later.

Stepping into his previous position is Matt Gagnon. This was a no-brainer. Gagnon has an eye for talent and isn't afraid to get hands on to make sure the books get out on time. Congratulations to him as well.

CREATING BY DERIVATIVE

Reading a ton of comics does not make one qualified to write one. Certainly it helps in terms of understanding how the pacing works and how the pages break down. The problem is if all you read is one genre, in the case of comic books its most likely superhero, then you'll wind up regurgitating what you've taken in. Chris and I were talking about it last night. The best writers know to draw upon life experience or the life experience of others for their work. They know to look at classic literature to see what in these works have made them stand the test of time.

Same with art. The majority of manga is crap because the artists are under such a tight schedule to produce work that copying is encouraged. That's one of the main reasons for the generally homogeneous look of most manga art. The plots and pretty close to cookie cutter as well. Sure there's a few stand outs, but its very few and good luck finding them.

In creating you most be original and until you find your own voice and style look to others that are stand outs and originals to see what is working for them. This does not mean copying their work. It means examining the ideas and concepts that they are exploring and try to find something in there that resonates with you. But you have to be careful. Just because you think something is brilliant does not mean everyone else thinks so. If you're going to do a piece heavily inspired by Lady Gaga, you need to make sure your audience actually gives a damn about Lady Gaga. It doesn't matter how popular the media thinks she is.

Finding an original voice inside yourself is not easy and you may not have it in you, but its worth looking for.

MUSIC!!

This week I'm listing three of my all time favorite songs. Enjoy.



And that's a wrap for today. I leave with with an asignment. Its Hump Day. Go hump something. Just keep it legal. See ya Friday.

Looking for Strange?

If you are then head over to Emmy Jackson's awesome site. My entry was selected in her latest fiction challenge.

I'm unreasonably giddy about this!

Seriously, there may be emoticons.