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wholesale consequences warehouse: the three loves of Charlie Earl

July 28 at 7:38pm

First: It was a whirlwind. Dance and drinks. Few weeks in the apartment, then its off to a house, co-signed and all. Charlie Earl cuts grass outside with his self-propelled pushmow, meaning he just walks behind it with a hand touching it, like a dum-dum. Laura in upstairs bath, meaning to climb out of the tub, but slips. Her head goes through the window and is severed CLEAN-OFF by the glass. Her head rolls outside across the backyard and stops of front of Charlie Earl's self-propelled pushmow. Charlie is completely confused.

An end to confusion.

Title Card: Given over to waste.

Second love. It goes slower this time. Charlie is gun-shy about co-habitating. They have sleepovers though, and brunches in their underoos. It's good. Charlie leaves one morning in his British Racing Green MGB. She runs alongside the car. Charlie makes a game of it, grabbing hold of her hand, Helen's hand. His grip slips. She grabs hold more firmly. She trips over a root, and falls, before Charlie Earl can let go. Her body is pulled beneath the back wheel of the car.

Charlie stops the car in the next forty feet and looks back incredulously at another ruined love.

Title Card: Succumbed to Ruin.

Third Love: Angela the angelic goth girl. Things are more subdued this time. Charlie Earl just kinds of lets it happen. He's becoming jaded. He leaves her in the truck at the discount superstore while he goes inside for vitamins, underwear and a USB flashdrive. Back in the car, the engine is running and the air-conditioning is blaring, which happens to be filling the car with carbon monoxide. Angela peacefully goes to sleep, like an unwanted kitten.

Title Card: "Blessed Are The Sleepy, For They Soon Drop Off."

World goes to hell in a hand basket. The dead are coming back to life. Kristinna Lokken gets her American flag bikini. She rigid-mounts a high-caliber automatic on the back of a 2-ton flatbed truck. Finally, she puts on her open-toed heels.

Charlie Earl is consulting with his pastor, a Methodist of many years. One of Lokken's stray bullets hits the ESV in the pastor's hand and pages go EVERYWHERE. They scatter, babies. Charlie ducks until the truck is gone and goes in the sanctuary, where Angela's dead body lies in the coffin.

BUMP.

From the coffin.

The coffin falls and Angela crawls out and gets to her feet. From the back, we see that her dress has been cut by the mortician, to aid in dressing an immobile corpse. She has a nice lily white butt. But that's besides the point.

She stands there, pupil-less, and puts her head down, angelic, almost penitent, waiting for Charlie Earl.

He comes to her side and we pull back to see a wedding tableaux, with Charlie and the dead girl centermass and the sanctuary now full of people.

Midnight. Charlie Earl climbs off of Angela and lays down on his back. She nestles up to him and nibbles at his ear. He begins to muse how his life has finally turned around. We hear crunching suddenly.

She's eating into his brains.

FIN.

-a Fatfish Zombie story.

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do you miss Jackson Five on the coin-op?

July 1 at 2:30pm

Keep talking, Jermaine. This is important. We are going to fix you. I'm working 5 to 1 so our time is limited, but I can give you all that time. Until fifteen minutes before 1, where I smoke cigarettes while being on the clock. Love a smoker's policy here, where I can smoke during our sessions. Gotta smoke. Gotta have my nicotine fix.

We were talking about Air Pudding destroying a roller-skating rink in Pasadina. I don't recall seeing anything about that in the papers, save for a post-modern reference in the Messenger-Democrat, which makes me think the whole thing is a legend blown out of proportion by time. Just some old anti-Nixon propaganda, I wot. Sort of like Bush blowing the levees in New Orleans to clear out low-income residents.

Keep talking Jermaine. Talk it out. We're getting down to it, now. To the grice.

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working on a new book

June 29 at 10:17pm

writing a new book, and all that jazz, a novella. minimum of 10 thousand words. I could call it "my struggles" but such is life that it would be lost in everyone else's struggles.

my soul is like a song. or something. but it is strong and vibrant these days, productive.

life is good and I want to see other people happy, too. i want to see us all happy.

this is the part where we take our clothes off and inspect each other for ticks. if you find one, just pull yank it.

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Baby Hair(another screenplay notion)

June 19 at 10:06pm

Duke rode past the Dollar General on his bike. A short, overweight girl with her hair pulled back smoked a cigarette in a 96 Honda Accord with all the windows down. She gave Duke a look when he went past. Something stirred in him, and just as quickly went away.

He turned the bike onto Potentate Street and kept an eye out for his employer's car, which she said would be home. A Cadillac DTS. He soon found it, went up to the front door, and was allowed inside by a lady who could have easily been mistaken for his grandmother: white hair and friendly wrinkles. She was wearing a bathrobe. She showed him to the day's work: a plumbing mishap under the kitchen sink, and he went to work. He looked and looked but found no evidence of a leak. He was saying this when he turned around to see the lady naked in the doorway with her bathrobe at her feet.

When Mister Homeowner came home, he found the two making love on the kitchen tiling. "I don't love him" she was screaming at her husband as Duke ran out the back way. He ran, shirtless, to his bike and fled like the devil was on his heels. He rode and rode, making good progress.

Soon he realized he was cold. He saw a church up ahead with a Nativity scene set up in the front yard. Duke stopped there and got the blanket off of the plastic Baby Jesus, and this made him feel warmer, if not better all around. He continued on along now, but at a slower pace, and damned if Mister Homeowner didn't catch up in GMC truck, shooting out his window at Duke.

Duke fled into the woods. He knew the woods of the entire area. It was like a second home for a being that was at least half-squirrel. He went to his deer stand that stood a mile and a half through the woods from his house. It had chairs. He sat and waited.

The deputy stops at Angie's house, asking the befuddled Angie with the Baby Hair if she has seen Duke. He tells her they need to find Duke, because he is in danger, that a man is out to kill Duke! Angie stays quiet, pale as death itself, until the deputy leaves, then she heads out to back and into the woods.

Soon enough she is at the deer stand, standing crying in front of cousin Duke.

"Don't leave" he says. "I don't want to be alone when I die." So she stays, and they wait for the cold justice of Mister Homeowner, but she sits a bit off from Duke, so as not to be hit in the crossfire.

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cowboys of the brown bush

June 18 at 3:58pm

(backstory: much of the town has been cleared out by an angry gunfighter. the men of the town had went into a necrophiliac fever over the gunfighter's dead girlfriend, to which the gunfighter responded by killing most everyone in town, save for two other gunfighters, who now find themselves at odds.)

Cue the Ennio Morricone. Its quickdraw time. Webb and McEndrith having a showdown.

Webb draws first, shoots the eye glass off of McEndrith's face. Mac falls and searching blindly, finds his glasses, but they are busted, the frame destroyed. Smiling, Webb runs behind the corner of a building and kneels. Thinking to himself, he begins to laugh.

Now nearly completely blind, Mac fires wildly until his pistol is empty. Fumbling, he grabs a rifle off his horse.

Webb looks around corner and shoots Mac in the kneecap. Mac falls. Webb goes back around corner, laughing heartily now.

Mac crawls with the rifle in hand, crawls closer and closer to Webb's position, while Webb happily muses and laughs.

Webb looks and Mac is right there! Webb grabs the end of the rifle and Mac fires, with the barrel right beside Webb's head.

Instantly, Webb is deafened. (Foley: dissonance)

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User since

Jun 21, 2003 at 3:26am

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Rural South Carolina

Interests

talking crap to Alex, listening to Alex's mess

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eater of worlds, flattener of stars, writers of blogs and books and letters and such other nonsense

 

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