Xixax Collective Story - Take 2

Started by MacGuffin, May 03, 2004, 01:08:25 AM

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MacGuffin

"Yes. Yes...Yes!"
He was tired of hearing those words. He swore he'd never used them again. Ever. He started thinking of alternate words to use when that word would be needed.
"Sure" or "Yeah." "Of course." Anything, but -
"Yes...Yes! Yes."
He'd plug his ears, but the space was too small.
This is how long he's been waiting. He was getting stir crazy.
"Keep focused. Keep focused," he kept telling himself.
He thought about which one he'd do first. Even doing 'Eany Meany Miny Moe' a few times in his head. Sometimes cheating so it would land on her; sometimes on him.
Beads of sweat were running down his cheek. The gun was getting heavy now.
"Yes! Yes...Yes."
He couldn't see them. The slats were painted shut. In a way, he was thankful he couldn't watch. The screaming was more than enough. But how long can this go on?
He'd have to go by hearing when they were done to make his move. He wanted it that way. Catch them in a moment of pure surprise.
"Yes! Yes! Yes!"
He could smell her perfume on the sweater hanging next to him. It wafted up his nose everytime he shifted his weight to relieve the cramp in one calf; then the other. It seemed to be getting stronger now as the pain increased.
"Oh, no," he thought. "Must...hold...it...ba..." And before he had a chance to...
He sneezed.
"Don't think about making art, just get it done. Let everyone else decide if it's good or bad, whether they love it or hate it. While they are deciding, make even more art." - Andy Warhol


Skeleton FilmWorks

Raikus

His sneeze was loud and shuttering. It was the hard sneeze that waters the eyes and makes the neck tense. The kind that propells streams of spittle and phlegm through the air, and in this case, onto the closet door. It was so deafening that his ears didn't pick up on the distinct sounds of climax coming from the room beyond for a full second after his commotion.

It seemed that the same pleasure that was responsible for his upcoming actions was also responsible for his concealment. His body slowly became placid as he realized he remained undetected. However, this only fueled the complete and rampaging rage that bit into his gut. His lip began to quiver and he raised the gun up to his head and allowed the cool steel to rest against his temple.

"Ahhhh... Ahh... Ah... ah."

He could hear the sound of another body falling on the bed and a loud sigh. The bastard was obviously winded from desecrating his wife. His wife. The one he had a child with. Or was it even his? Or was anything really his or just some cruel joke. He felt that he was in charge of nothing, but that was about to change. The gun was his empowerment and he was about to make a statement that he was in control again. And the two mere feet away would soon learn that no one runs over Samuel.

Not anymore.
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free, silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands, with all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves, let me forget about today until tomorrow.

A World Apart

His hands were sweaty as he perspired continually knowing his actions were to determine his future and the future of his wife and her lover. He pulled the gun back from his head and made a very bold move.
As the closet door pushed open ever so slowly, the creaking was intensely mind-numbing. His wife didn't even have a clue until the door was completely open. She screamed, but her lover lay there calmly, without the slightest bit of worry on his face.
When the shadowy figure of Samuel stepped out, she finally realized who it was and finally knew what he was holding.
"You don't have to do this, please Sammy, just think for a minute."
He walked casually over to the side where the lover serenely lay.
"You're right. I don't have to do this."
He tossed the gun in the lap of the lover, who then cocked it and aimed at her head.
BANG
The lover got up and dressed while the Samuel took the gun and put it back in his pocket.
"Well done," said Sam with relief. He was glad that he abated his previous notion of killing them both for the sake of no witnesses
"It was all too easy," said.....
No, I've never seen that, I've never seen anyone drive their garbage out to the curb and bang the hell out of it with a stick.

El Duderino

"It was all too easy," said Thor, a Russian mobster. "You got my money?" he says with his deep, Russian accent.
"Yeah," said Sam, "in my car."
Thor slaps on his leather jacket, slicks back his hair and puts his gun in his back pocket.
They both walk out of the hotel room. Thor lights up a Marlboro Red.
"You know those things will kill you" Sam said.
"I dont care, it is relaxing" replied Thor.
They walk down the stairs and arrive at Sam's '95 Camry. "Okay, we here, now, where is my 50 G's?" Thor quarried. "In the trunk" Sam answered.
They walk to the back of the car and Sam sticks the key in the lock. The trunk flies open and there sits a black briefcase.
"FREEZE!" screams a voice from behind them. They both turn around slowly and there stands the hotel owner, with a cigarette in mouth and a shotgun in hand.
Did I just get cock-blocked by Bob Saget?

Jeremy Blackman

The Russian mobster gently pointed his finger at the hotel owner, the cigarette still dangling between his teeth.

"You know those things will kill you."

The hotel owner, though bald, slapped his palm on the top of his head and grinded it into a fist as if pulling his hair. "I don't care! It's relaxing!" he screamed.

The Russian sat on the back bumper. After the car stopped bouncing, he scratched his chin and turned to Sam. "Does he know about the..."

"The what? I don't know what you're talking about." Sam shifted uncomfortably with his hands in his pockets.

The hotel owner, his eyes widening with disgust, threw his cigarette at Sam. "Don't play silly with me! There's something in your trunk!"

The Russian moved his hand to shut the trunk.

"Stop that!"

He moved it one more inch so that an irreverent squeak was barely audible.

The hotel owner moved closer, almost panicking with curiosity. "What's in that briefcase?"

"Lunch," said Sam.

"How about this." The Russian reached in the trunk. He turned around and held the briefcase in front of his chest. "I throw you the briefcase and you catch it."

The hotel owner released two shots from his gun, which sank through the Russian's ribcage and pierced his heart. It was a rather instant death.

A piece of blood-soaked lettuce poked out of the Russian's chest.

"You shot up my ham and cheese." Sam opened the shattered briefcase and a disfigured mass of bread flopped onto the pavement.

The hotel owner released a heavy sigh. "Don't worry. I'll buy you lunch on Tuesday."

Sam slipped his hand into the Russian's pocket and extracted a wallet. "I knew it!" He pulled out a card. "McLean County Sherrif's Department."

"I believe it," said the hotel owner. "The accent was terrible... sounded Austrian."

Sam slammed the trunk shut and wiped his hands on his pants. "What was with the papers?"

"What, you didn't understand them?"

"Not a word."

"Oh, don't worry about it. I'll explain everything on Tuesday. Insurance is simple."

"That reminds me." Sam turned his head 360 degrees. "Don't see any witnesses, do you?"

"No. Do you?"

"Well..." Sam, only slightly satisfied, looked down at the large body on the pavement. "Can you take care of this... thing?"

"Don't worry about it."

"And... upstairs?"

"All covered."

Sam started his car and slipped on his cheap sunglasses. He poked his head out the window as he drove away. "Tuesday! Cappucino! Twelve-thirty!"

The hotel owner, dragging the mass of flesh through a small door, smiled and gave a polite salute.

Raikus

Emily wasn't supposed to be outside but she got bored in the hotel room with her mom passed out on the bed and her not being able to watch TV. The funny smelling hotel had an old pool with an even older slide that led down into the greenish water. Emily wanted to swim in it so bad but her mom would know if she did. Once Emily had swam during the night in a nice Motel 8 in Arizona. It had clean and cool water and it provided a great contrast between the dry heat. But Mom had found the soggy clothes the next morning and spanked Emily really hard. Emily had learned her lesson now, but it still didn't stop her from exploring every dingy place her Mom checked into while following the smoking guys' band around.

Emily slipped off her Powerpuff Girls flip flops and sat down on the steps leading into the shallow end of the pool. She played with a clump of leaves with her toes and finally put both feet in and began to make little whirlpools.

*pop*

It sounded like a single popcorn kernel in the microwave. It was weird to only have one piece of popcorn, she thought. Usually there are a whole bunch that go at once. She looked up at the hotel rooms on the second floor and saw only one lighted room. The hotel wasn't kept up with to often. The doors didn't quite fit the old plaster and framing like they were meant to. Little gaps could be seen here and there.

She heard someone talking but couldn't quite make it out. She'd always been an eavesdropper, her Mom called it nosey, but no one ever paid attention to Emily anyway so it was easy for her just to listen. Besides, sometimes the mean smoking guy would slap her if she started talking. Emily took her feet out of the water and removed an oak leaf that clung to her ankle. She walked towards the row of bushes that bordered the pool and provided great cover for her to peak out of.

Just as she crouched behind the bushes, the lighted room's door openned and two men came out. One looked like a nice guy. He was sweaty but kind of old and wore a collared shirt. The other was really dark and mean looking. He had greasy hair and reminded Emily of the drummer, especially when he took out a ciagrette and began smoking. Emily crinkled her nose even though she couldn't smell the smoke from here. They walked down the stairs and to the parking lot. Emily circled around the bushes making sure to take careful steps. This is a fun game, she thought, much better than watching that old guy that throws the pencils on TV like she normally does about now.

"FREEZE!"

At first, Emily didn't know if she had been found out or not. She froze and looked around to see where the voice came from. She saw some hairy legs on the other side of the bushes, but just heels and a big butt. He must not have meant for her to freeze, but just to be sure, she did.

"You know those things will kill you."

"I don't care! It's relaxing!"

She heard the Stinky Man whisper something to Mr. Sweaty and saw Mr. Sweaty teeter like he was dizzy when he answered Stinky Man back. Big Butt took a step forward and threw something at Mr. Sweaty.

"Don't play silly with me! There's something in your trunk!"

Emily was starting to feel a little frightened. She'd seen situations like this on the TV and they usually didn't turn out well. They were usually loud and full of yelling and cursing.

"SH-KOOOH! SH-KOOOH!"

Emily had never heard anything so loud in her life. Not even the smoking guys made such loud noise. It was new and terrifying for her. But even worse she saw the Stinky Man fall to the ground and start bleeding. Not bleeding like on the TV, but real bleeding. And really shaking. And real death.

Emily started to cry.
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free, silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands, with all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves, let me forget about today until tomorrow.

NEON MERCURY

...aproaching Noth Caven Ave., Sam slowed down, opened his glove box and pulled out his crack pipe.  three hits later and drool dribbling down his oily chin he can relax now.  as luck would have it he still had enough rocks to keep him going.  damn, the look on that bitch s face as the bullet fucked her face up like a jackson pollack painting splattered agianst the wall was great satisfaction he thought.  he began to laugh at the sight of this.  he didn t care anyway she was a washed up piece of shit snatch whore-who fucking cares!  all she ever did was sit around the hotel, fuck anything that s willing, and stick needles in her arms.  and now she s dead.  what a waste of life that bitch was.  it s a shame to see cancer patients, cripples, and other people who have unfortunate disabilites and illnesses but yet they strive to live and make something with their lives.  my wife was born lucky but yet fucked everything up.  i'm glad she s dead along her diseased uterus that can no longer breed anything else.  sam placed the crack pipe back in his glove box, lit a cigarette, and cranked up the Skid Row, and pulled onto the entrance ramp to the highway...

Moment of Zen

He felt a sudden confidence when putting down the crack
the clarity of nicotene would strengthen his attack
the cars upon the highway were a sideswipe and a snack
but once you eat the bumper you can never get it back

Swimming on the pavement as if in his birthday suit
a-stroking and a-splashing as a hairy naked brute
his flatuating tailpipe ever joyous to polute
the street lights were his vitamins, the traffic signs his fruit

He waited for the mucous in his nostrils to expand
and sucked it in and spat it out upon his naked hand
and catapulted out the window swift and clean as planned
behavior which his dirty dirty wife would reprimand

MacGuffin

Emily barges back into her hotel room, the door left slightly ajar since she didn't know where the key was. She starts shaking the feet of her mother.
"Mom. Mommy. Wake up!"
She works her way up her mother's lifeless body, shaking and twisting every limb. That's when the bottle of Jack Daniels topples over; not making a spot on the floor for there was nothing to spill.
The mother moans, and Emily could imagine the x'ed out eyes on her mother like she's seen in the cartoons and comics when a character is passed out.
"She probably wouldn't believe me anyway," Emily thought, remembering the numerous times she played games like this on her mom and the resulting red bottom she would receive when her mom wielded the kitchen's wooden spoon. Seems like Mom was always hitting her, even when she did good. Her wound was just heeling from her the last time.
Emily was, at heart, a good girl and knew she couldn't forget what she saw. She got that from grandma. "Should I tell someone else? Or phone the police myself?" she pondered.
The air in the room was filled with cigarette smoke and cheap cologne from the previous occupant, making it difficult for the asthmatic Emily to breathe and think.
Emily wanders along the long walkway, not having a clue of what to do. The image of the Stinky Man being shot replayed over and over in her head. She knew the concept of death having been told about her grandpa's cancer, but this is the first time she had seen someone actually dead.
"Maybe he's not dead," she thought. "People on tv shows always get shot with a thousand bullets, but they still can crawl."
This was promising. She started to make her way back to the bush where she was hiding, but her aimless wandering left her lost in the hotel. She kept turning corners and looking for anything that looked remotely familiar.
Midway down the hall was an open door. "Is that my room? she wondered.
Emily made her way to the door, and stealthly poked her head in. The room was not familiar to her. Where was her Powerpuff Girls backpack she left on the chair?
But just as she was backing herself out, something catches her eyes. There were speckles of a shiny liquid all over the cheap hotel painting. Below that was a woman in bed. Naked. Dead.
This was Emily's second firsthand introduction to death.
"Don't think about making art, just get it done. Let everyone else decide if it's good or bad, whether they love it or hate it. While they are deciding, make even more art." - Andy Warhol


Skeleton FilmWorks

El Duderino

Sam sits at the wheel, smoking his own cigarette while he wait in like at Burger King. He goes through a whole cigarette and "American Pie" by Don McClean before he finally ends up at the speakerbox.

"Can I take your order" blares out of the box at an ungodly volume. "Um...yeah.....can I have 2 Whoppers with cheese, medium fries and a Dr. Pepper" he says.
"Okay....that'll be $5.34 at the first window."
Sam drives up to the first window labeled "Pay Here." The window slides open.
A very large man with Russian accent as thick as his goatee says "$5.34"
Sam looks up at the man and gets a look of recognition on his face. He's not sure and can't place him. He looks down at his nametag. Vladamir. Sam thinks and thinks and thinks as the cars in front of him cause him to wait right where he is, at the window. "Samuel" says Vladamir in his deep, Russian voice.
"I'm sorry?" Sam quarries. "Sammy, remember me?" No response. "Class of '95? You were good friends with my brother, Thor."
"Oh.....Vlad, how are you buddy?" Sam says.
"Good, good, and you?" "Alright, can't complain" Sam replies.
"How's that wife of yours?" Vladamir asks. "Oh, well, she left me about 6 months ago."
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know."
"It's alright."
"Hey, Thor actually called me the other day saying you two were doing some sort of work together. Is that true?"
"Umm....yeah, but funny thing is, we were supposed to have lunch today, but he didnt show, I called his cell and I got no answer. So, I'm hoping everything is alright."
"Yeah, I'll give him a call later for you."
"Thanks."
"You know what, it's actually Thor's birthday in like a week and I was going to throw him a surprise party, I'm sure we'd both love it if you made an appearance."
Sam smiles as the cars in front of him pull away.
"Yeah, for sure...get my number from Thor. It's been great seeing you."
"Take care."

Sam pulls up to the second window, collects his food and drives away, lighting up another cigarette.
Did I just get cock-blocked by Bob Saget?