It’s been a hell of a month and a half; as those of you following me on Twitter (See column on the left) and those of you who read my post of September the Twelfth already know, I was diagnosed by my doctor as having Something Very Bad Wrong With Me. Continue reading So to review…
This is a little brain fart I wrote years ago for shits and giggles, in which the beautifully creative, improvisational, satirical slapstick geniuses, the Marx Brothers meet Clive Barker‘s original cinema-version of the Cenobites of Hellraiser.
No infringement on any rights are intended. This is just something I wanted to share in honour of Halloween; a little writing exercise in fanfic I did for fun. Enjoy. Or not.
Scene: Groucho, Harpo, and Chico are in Groucho’s living room. He takes out the Box Of Lament, showing it to Chico, and Harpo.
Groucho: Okay, this particular little item is very dangerous, and very delicate. I need you two to keep an eye on it, and make sure nothing happens to it. And whatever you do, don’t try and open it!
Groucho sizes them up a moment and then replaces the Box Of Lament in his coat pocket.
Groucho: On second thought, that’d be like trusting a chimpanzee with a hand grenade.
Groucho heads to the door followed by Harpo. Harpo takes the Box out of Groucho’s pocket, as Groucho leaves. Harpo walks back to Chico, holding the Box Of Lament.
Chico: Hey, whatta you think you’re doing? You heard whatta the boss said. We don’t gotta open this box or else there will be trouble!
He yanks the box from Harpo’s hand and puts it in his pocket. Harpo promptly takes the Box of Lament from Chico and solves the puzzle. The walls shake and tear open. Flames burst through the cracks as smoke, rancor and darkness fill the air. Groucho hurriedly comes back into the apartment, and looks around.
Groucho: I can’t really leave you fellas alone! I’m gone for two minutes and you let the place go all to Hell!
From one of the cracks in the wall Pinhead enters.
Pinhead: You have opened the gateway to Hell. Your lives and souls are now forfeit. You belong to Hell.
Groucho: Just what I always wanted: My own little Hell-in-the-wall. Well it’s not much, but at least I don’t have to pay for heat.
Pinhead: You now belong to us, for all eternity!
Chico: Wait a minute! Who are you and how long’s an eternity last?
Pinhead: We are the Cenobites. And an eternity…is forever.
Groucho: Well, I’ll tell you what I told the Jehova’s Witnesses: Thank you for your time, but I’m happy with what I practice now.
Chico: Hey, boss? Whatta you practice?
Groucho: Today? Surgery. Tomorrow? Undertaking.
Pinhead: Your pain will be legendary, even for Hell!
Groucho: I knew a girl who was legendary, even for Hell. It’s always a shame when a nice gal gets a bad reputation. Remind me to apologize to her for playing kiss and tell.
Pinhead: You will suffer torture and agony as we explore pain to the depths of your soul.
Chico: Hey, you know what really hurts? When you stub your toe!
Harpo nodds. He steps around to stand behind Pinhead and begins hanging Christmas ornaments from the nails sticking out of his face.
Pinhead: I speak not of such trivial things; I speak of agony that no living thing can endure.
Groucho lights up a cigar and paces around.
Groucho: Oh I know about agony; I know all about agony that no living thing can endure; I died on Broadway.
Pinhead grins, and approaches Groucho. He takes the cigar from Groucho and studies it. Pinhead raises his hand and then stubs the cigar out in his palm. Harpo takes the cigar and strings it on an ornament hook then hangs it from the side of Pinhead’s face.
Pinhead: I speak of suffering the likes of which you can’t imagine. I speak of epic pain.
Chico: Epic pain? That-a no sounds too good.
Groucho: It sounds like my ex-wife.
Groucho turns to Pinhead.
Groucho: Have you met her? You sound just like her divorce attorney.
Harpo hangs one ornament too many off of Pinhead and they clatter, fall and break. Pinhead reels around and Harpo falls to the floor.
Pinhead: I WILL EAT YOUR SOUL! I WILL EAT ALL YOUR SOULS!
Groucho: You’ll eat my soul? Let me suggest the filet of soul. It comes with a chef’s salad and your choice of rice, baked beans, or French fries. For two dollars more, you get coffee and apple pie a la mode.
Chico: Ah, now, that sounds-a good!
Harpo nodds enthusiastically.
Not able to write. Not trying again for a while.
Here I am, smoked up, tranked, drunk…still my brain is firing too fast, my state of mind is far too awake to allow me to sleep.
Never mind the terrible motor control that keeps slacking my lower jaw and making my fingers stumble instead of dance across this keyboard. My body is both physically and pharmacologically exhausted, yet my mind races with the fervent speed of a rodent trapped in an ever-shrinking cage. Continue reading Insomniac Thoughts
A few weeks ago I had bloodwork and an EKG with stress at my GP’s behest…to think I was worried about the EKG. Spoiler alert: the motherfucking bloodwork’s shit all over my life.
My EKG may have said my heart was healthy, but my blood work revealed something much, much more terrifying: Continue reading An Epilogue Unintended.
Hello, Netflix my old friend.
I’ve come to sit with you again.
Because of boredom softly creeping
And my ennui while not sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
If it’s available on Netflix.
With popcorn bag I watched alone
Walter White and River Song
Beneath the halo of my LCD
I sold my soul for all the TVs
As my eyes dried out while staring at the light
Throughout the night…
While watching Netflix.
In the New Releases I beheld
Yearned-for titles long withheld…
TV series seasons one through thirteen…
And that one art-house film everyone must see,
Parts One through Three…
But only Two is on Netflix.
So now you build a VPN…
to bypass local restriction.
To see the shows that might reach you,
And the movies late at night meet you,
And you can fall back on Doctor Who for a spell…
…you might as well.
Because it’s all on Netflix.
And I will quite cheerfully pay
Less than ten bucks for unlimited play
So I can binge-watch until morning
The cunning scheme Heisenberg was forming
And catch up on the very latest from Westeros
From ten feet close…
Because it’s all…
A year after his passing, Robin Williams’ life and death are still having an incredible impact on me. Below is a text I wrote after his death, updated only where necessary, to reflect my life one year later. Continue reading Robin Williams: One Year On
I think most people understand the basic tenets of writing, that a story has a beginning, middle and end. I think that most people understand that stories don’t always START at the beginning, nor do they necessarily FINISH at the end. And that middle part…well it’s a proper layer cake, isn’t it? It is the meat, cheese, veg and condiments of your sanny, and you want to build it to be as filling and palatable as possible. Continue reading Reflections on Completing the First Act of a Novel
If anyone coming to Montreal gives a good god damn about Human Rights, I would urge you this summer to AVOID the Just For Laughs / Juste Pour Rire “Comedy” festival.
They regularly feature a “Les Anglais” gala with Juste Pour Rire…an entire evening of comedy devoted to insulting and mocking Quebec’s English-speaking minorities. Continue reading No Laughing Matter: Boycott Just For Laughs Festival
So you’ve written a fantastic masterpiece, but don’t know what to do because you don’t have the background, pedigree, connections, contacts, or bribe money to get it published?
As the eBook and Print-on-Demand revolution marches forward, you seem to get the sense that YOU, TOO might be able to GET YOUR BOOK OUT THERE?