Saturday, December 24, 2011

The Creep On The Borderlands part two

Price Breaks and Heartaches

A journal of retail and failed romance

Chapter Nine

The Creep On The Borderlands

chapter two




I survived another holiday season in retail and capped it all off by attending a Christmas evening gathering with my father's side of the family. The Brunos are a big family, with each member sporting a rich and complex backstory. Since my parents had divorced when I was just 18 months old, and my mother got custody, I only got to see them about once every month or two. I felt like a minor character in their family drama. I just never got a chance to truly bond with any of them. Was it because of my limited contact? Or was it because my Dad was the runt of the litter and even when I was his only child I was still somehow the runt of his litter?


Over the years I could never keep my uncles' and aunts' names straight, despite my ability to remember the name of just about every Doctor Who villain ever.


And why didn't they ever bring back Count Grendel of Gracht? He had so much potential!


*



This year the gathering was at one of my aunt's homes, I wasn't sure which one it was then and I still don't now. I was trying to get a moment alone with my Dad so I could talk to him about what had gone wrong with Tallulah. My old man and his current girlfriend had been together for almost two years so I knew there were a lot he could teach me. Besides he always had a few spares waiting in the wings so I was hoping he could set me up.


(No luck to be had there... The man is a miser when it comes to booty.)


The entire house was done up with festive decorations and a whole room had been given over to plates of hot food, cold cuts and desserts that would kill a diabetic in one bite. Christmas music was playing but you could barely make out a single note over the shifting murmur of conversation punctuated with laughter. I could see my Dad in the next room, I started to approach him.


“Albert!” One of my Uncles called me over, “Long time no see.”


I nodded, “It was Easter I think.”


“Yeah it was.” He smiled, “I hear you're in college, your old man is real proud of you.”


“Oh thanks, I'm glad to hear that Uncle... Uncle... Hey how have you been doing?”


“Oh good. Business has been keeping me busy 24-7.”


“I bet it has.” I racked my brain trying to remember what the Hell it was he did, “Well I suppose in this economy you have to get customers wherever you can.”


He laughed at that, “Yeah sure, there's never a slowdown in the funeral business.”


That was my cue to back away with a festive smile before I revealed I didn't know the names of his wife and children. “Catch ya later.” I said as I tried to find which room of the house my father had retreated to.


So many familiar faces, so few names to put to them. I felt like the world's biggest jerk. I wondered, Am I some kind of a self-obsessed sociopath?


“There you are son.” My Dad said from beside me.


“Oh hey. I was just thinking about you.”


“Are you having a good time?”


“Oh yeah.” I said, “But I wanted to know if I could talk to you for a minute. You see Tallulah broke up with me and-”


“That's great son. You're too young to get tied down.”


“Actually we used pink handcuffs... hey where are you going?”


My father lost himself in the crowd of Italian Americans, I began to follow him but was caught in a hug by one of my Aunts, “Merry Christmas Albert.”


I hugged back, “Merry Christmas... you... you look younger every day!”


“Your father said your girlfriend was coming tonight. Where is she?”


“She's... she's got other plans. In the long term.”


“That's nice, it's so important to keep busy.”


“I don't think there will be any getting busy in he near future.” I said, “Oh there's my Dad. I'll catch ya later.”


My Dad was at the deli table making a sandwich for himself, I had to navigate the crowded parlor to get to him. I wondered what these people thought of me. I wondered if they shook their heads and rolled their eyes whenever I left the room. I wondered who the Hell that Asian guy sitting by the fireplace was. I mean sure we're of Eastern Italian descent but not that eastern.


“When are you going to get a haircut son?” my Dad asked.


“You don't think it looks cool?” I said, “I thought it looked cool.”


“Cool is something that comes from inside you son. How you look doesn't matter.”


“Oh.” I paused thoughtfully, “Then why does it matter how long my hair is?”


“Because you look like a fat hippy,” my father explained.


“I think you will find my curves are sensuous, but I wanted to talk to you about what I'm feeling...”


“All you should be feeling is that your whole life is ahead of you.” My Dad lectured between bites of pastrami, “You should spend a little less time hanging around with your goofy friends and go out there in the bars and meet normal people.”


Then he was gone again before I could explain that whenever I went to bars no one would talk to me and people would put cigarettes out in my Strawberry daiquiris. I started wandering around again, spending some time talking to my Dad's girlfriend Tracy, she had reddish blond hair, wide deep eyes and a sweet personality. How sweet was she? She actually read one of my novels and back then my books were poorly plotted, poorly written and unpublishable.


As opposed my current mediocrely plotted, mediocrely written and unpublishable works.


Once I had left my Dad's unnervingly hot girlfriend behind I mingled some more pausing to joke around with some cousins I might not be able to pick out of a police lineup by New Year's. Then I talked to my Grandmother and Grandfather Bruno- no problem getting their names straight there. We went over the usual questions and I was able to get a few laughs out of them- I had good material back then.


I decided to try and talk to my Dad one last time, as I moved through the crowds of relatives and relatives' spouses, cousins and hangers on I happened to catch a few snatches of conversation


Was that one of my Dad's brother's making jokes about him?


Yes, yes it was and they sounded a little mean and unfair.


Kind of like what I've been doing for the last thousand words or so.


I thought about all the petty humiliations my brother Phil was responsible for and realized that my old man and I were alike in a lot of ways. I wondered if he felt like an outsider too, if he ever felt that no matter what he did he would never be good enough.


My Dad was out on the porch having a smoke. Cigarettes were a habit he would abandon and return to many times over the years and it was always a good time to talk because he was pretty much cornered.


“Well,” I said sitting on the stoop beside him.


“Not bored are you?” he asked.


“No never. Every time I visit it seems like the first time.”


“Good,” he exhaled smoke, “you still worrying about what's her name the redhead?”


“I'm sad about it. I still don't know what I did wrong.”


“And you never will.”


We were both shivering, me from the cold and my Dad from the pleasure of the nicotine racing through his system.


“I wish I could accept that.” I said, “But I just can't.”


“You will. You'll get burned enough and you will,” he explained. “Besides she was too mouthy. You don't want a mouthy one, they just wear you down.”


“I thought she was great.”


“You think if they talk to you they're great.”


“There is that yes.” I agreed, “But what do you think I should do?”


My Dad stubbed out his cigarette on a plastic reindeer and stood, “You should play the field, enjoy yourself. Bide your time until you're thirty or so and you have a little cash in the bank. By then the girls in their twenties will start looking at you with interest. Assuming you get a haircut.”


“Oh.” I said.


“Now come on, let's help your Aunt Joan hand out the grab bag gifts.”


“Who?”





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Friday, December 23, 2011

New new #FridayFlash story this week but why not enjoy some of my past hits?

Blood And Tinsel (a novella)

Acquainted With The Night (a novella)

Merry Christmas To All And To All A Good Fight

Thursday, December 22, 2011

(Insane News) "Oniony pig farts legal, court rules"

Article found via FARK.com

The farmer has been feeding his 1,500 pigs several cubic metres of onions every week for the past 14 years, but city authorities ordered him to stop, and threatened to fine him €2,500, after locals complained of the resulting pungent porcine farts.

The council justified its decision on the grounds that planning permission for the pigsty forbade “strong-smelling foods, e.g. kitchen waste.”

But the court overturned the decision, saying that the city council had imposed the penalty on the assumption that the onions were to blame for the stink without providing sufficient evidence....

to read the rest click here

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

(Recommended Hotness) London Andrews nerds it up.

(Recommended Hotness) The lovely Cadenza is in the Christmas Spirit!

The Timeline Of Doctor Who

THE COLD INSIDE (a serial novel) Chapter Five part three

THE COLD INSIDE

Chapter Five

part three

By AL BRUNO III


Tuesday November 8, 1994




It must have been a bad day for his Mom as well, she was playing her Elvis CDs as she drove home. Her answers to his questions were terse and dismissive. Tristam had learned to fear these warning signs so he just leaned back in his seat and relaxed. He dozed off somewhere in the early choruses of ‘Suspicious Minds’. Darkness washed over him, he felt his stress oozing away, his every muscle relaxing-



-A sudden sharp turn sent him spilling out of the car and into the path of oncoming traffic. Tristam screamed voicelessly at the sight of a truck bearing down on him. He crossed his arms over his face.


The truck passed over him, passed through him, so did the next car, and the next. There was a blistering pain as the bodies of the vehicles’ passengers momentarily merged with him. Unpleasant as it was it helped him recover his wits, he launched himself into the air and then hovered twenty feet over the intersection.


Tristam stared down through his diaphanous body to the headlights and turn signals. Fuck! I hate that! That hurt!


Actually it hadn’t hurt as bad as the first time he’d blundered through another person. That time the pain had been bad enough to wake him screaming. His mother had come running but he’d been able to pawn it off on her as a nightmare. She was more than willing to accept him having nightmares.


Maybe she’d even been a little glad, Tristam mused as he let himself drift further upwards. The intersection shrunk beneath him, the city faded into soft focus. He had to find out if this was really happening, he had to find out if he was going crazy or getting ready to join the X-Men.


Ha! If only. Time to spend your free period in the library for some research.


The library always made him think of Monique Lermenos. They’d shared their first kiss there- his back brushing against the oversized history volumes, her hands against his chest. He remembered that moment- the smell of the books, her soft lips brushing his, his body seeming to blush, shiver and run out of breath all at once. He was sure he’d never forget it.


Tristam noticed that he was angling slowly towards her house. He wondered if he could make it there before Mom woke him up.



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Tuesday, December 20, 2011

This one always makes me think of an old girlfriend...

(Recommended Hotness) London Andrews something something North Carolina something something glasses... do you people even read beyond the lady's name?

(Insane News) Man eats cocaine in brother's butt, dies

via FARK.com

 

A South Carolina man's brother died after police said he was forced to eat cocaine hidden in his brother's backside.

Both brothers were taken into custody on allegations they had drugs in their car.

But police told Charleston, S.C., TV station WCIV there were additional drugs hidden in 23-year-old Deangelo Mitchell's backside.

Officers said Deangelo Mitchell convinced his brother, 20-year-old Wayne Mitchell, to swallow the ounce of cocaine to hide the evidence. He died soon afterward.

"It's sickening," North Charleston Police Chief Jon Zumalt told WCIV. "I got upset when I saw the thing. I was pretty shocked on it...."

 

Click here to read the rest

(Insane Yet Thought Provoking News) Can Loving a Robot Lead to Divorce?


From FARK.com







When the anatomically correct, customizable, touch-responsive, personality-changing sexbot named Roxxxy was unveiled at the Adult Entertainment Expo last year, it -- she? -- was met with a lot of snarky responses. Only losers and perverts would be interested in shelling out $7,000 for a glorified sex toy, many said. Inventor and TrueCompanion founder Douglas Hines doesn't see it that way. With about 4,000 pre-orders, Hines believes artificially intelligent robots such as Roxxxy are "the future of robotics."...




Click here to read the rest of the article







Also the following video may be relevant...







Monday, December 19, 2011

The trailer for COLD SWEAT promises hot chicks covered in nitroglycerin... that's kinda unique...

(Recommended Hotness) London Andrews will have you make a saving throw vs drooling...

DEN OF GEEK (and everyone else on the Internet) has the trailer for THE DARK KNIGHT RISES, and now I do too...

From GEEKS OF DOOM

 

 

 


To watch more, visit tag

TOPLESS ROBOT encounters one of the worst movies I have ever seen... STAR CRYSTAL

 To quote TOPLESS ROBOT

The Gar decides not to kill the heroes after reading the Bible This isn't a life lesson. I just wanted to pay credence to one of the most left-field plot twists in the history of killer alien fiction....

 

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Sunday, December 18, 2011

The Creep On The Borderlands part one

Price Breaks and Heartaches

A journal of retail and failed romance

Chapter Nine

The Creep On The Borderlands

chapter one


( The following is inspired by true events and if you don't believe me make a Save VS Illusions)




“Honey I’m home!” I said as I walked in the door.


Tallulah came out of the kitchen wearing an apron over her jeans and Iron Maiden t-shirt. She had a Fresca in her hand for me and a smile on her lips. “There’s my honey!” she purred before kissing me. That kiss was lingering and soft, a promise of things to come, “How was work?”


“Busy,” I set my briefcase down, “they want more script rewrites.”


“Well, whatever you come up with I’m sure they’ll love it. After all, that’s why they made you the head writer of the American version of Doctor Who.”


Suddenly there were two voices shouting as one, “Daddy!”


The force of my two children hugging me was almost enough to tip me over. I picked them up, one in each arm, and hugged them. My daughter and son laughed, they were both six years old, fraternal twins named Preston and Pricilla. They had their mother’s red hair and my brown eyes. Pricilla asked “Did you bring us presents?”


“Of course I did,” I grinned as I handed them their gifts.


“Wow!” my son said, “An autographed picture of Darren McGavin! Thanks Dad!”


“Now go on,” I said, “go and get washed up for dinner.”


They did as the were told. My kids were never disobedient or rude, they always cleaned their rooms and had been reading the works of HP Lovecraft since they were four.


Tallulah watched them go, “You’re spoiling them.”


“I know,” I gave her a wink, “did I get any mail.”


“You sure did,” my wife handed me a thick stack of envelopes.


I glanced through them quickly, they were mostly letters of acceptance from publishers and magazines but there were a few postcards from people I had gone to high school with. They were full of apologies for the way they had treated me and begged me to help them as they languished away in whatever prison or homeless shelter they were in. There was even a letter from my brother Phil, I was surprised the doctors that ran the insane asylum were letting him have pencils again.


Suddenly there was a sob from my daughter’s room, I ran to her. She was sitting on her bed. I asked, “What’s wrong sweetheart?”


“Oh Daddy,” she sniffled, “it’s so unfair.”


“What’s unfair?” I knew that whatever was wrong I would fix it. I hadn’t been voted the World’s Best Dad by the United Nations for nothing.


Pricilla’s eyes were full of tears, “That you’re going to wake up soon.”


“What are you talking about my little one?”


Before she could speak again the air was filled with a shrieking BREEP BREEP BREEP BREEP BREEP BREEP...


*


...BREEP BREEP BREEP BREEP BREEP BREEP.


I hit the alarm clock’s snooze button and tried to find the dream again but it was gone. I was back to the real world and for me the real world had become a miserable place.


With Tallulah gone it was one of the least Merriest Christmases of my life. I tried to accept her decision to leave with dignity and grace but dignity and grace don't exactly go hand in hand with regular bouts of weeping and driving by your ex-girlfriends' house at three in the morning for no Earthly good reason.


I think that one of the worst parts of a break up is that your former significant other becomes a ghost haunting your memory. When something good happens not having someone to share it with diminishes the joy, when something bad happens you have no one to turn to for comfort. Sure I tried to make do with my subscription to JUGGS magazine but a bi-monthly magazine can only do so much for you- even if they keep printing your letters to the editor. (My pen name was 'Buster Hymen')


With nothing else to fill the empty hole in my life I tried to throw myself into my work but sadly my job kept getting in the way.


*


It was a madhouse, an absolute madhouse.


Customers stretched from Ivanhoe Books Incorporated's single cash register all the way back to the children's literature section. Everyone was paying by check or charge card with the occasional bit of cash thrown in like parsley with a restaurant meal. I was working customer service while Frank McDaniels manned the register. Yasmin was busy in the back room checking in case after case of books and cursing the world.


“Excuse me Miss?” a customer asked.


“Mister actually,” I turned around. I was used to this mistake by now, I had let my hair grow way out over the summer and that coupled the admittedly sensuous curves of my body caused many people to mistake me for a woman when approaching from behind.


The customer blushed, “Oh sorry. I was wondering if you had any copies of the new Stephen King book?”


“Yes.” I said, “They're right behind you.”


“Oh.” The customer said with a tone of happy surprise in his voice, “My grandma is a big fan of his and she's in hospice care now so I thought it would cheer her up.”


“I'm sorry to hear that. I hope she enjoys the book.”


The customer blanched at the price, “Do you have it in paperback?”


“Uh no. It's a new release, the paperback won't be out for a year. However the book does have our 35% Chivalrous discount.”


The customer paused thoughtfully, “I think I'll get her something else. She can wait for this. Thank you though.”


I watched the customer leave thinking to myself that someday soon people would be cheaping out on buying a hardcover copy of MY novel. Of course since then my goals have changed and now I’m busting my ass to get people to read my damn blog.


“Al!” Yasmin called, “I need you to move another display out onto the floor.”


The aisles were already crowded with cardboard dumps of one novel or another, “Where can it go?”


“By the romance section.”


The mere mention of romance made my stomach twist, “But there are already three displays there, no one can reach the shelves as it is.”


“That's your problem fat boy.” She said before slamming the back room door behind her.


“I am not fat!” I shouted after her, “I have sensuous curves!”


“Excuse me Miss?”


“SEE?”





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