I bet this brought a tear to every MSTie's eye yesterday!

Joel I was proud to be able to shake your hand recently...

In The Shadow Of His Nemesis chapter twenty two

BY AL BRUNO III

Thursday November 14th 1996

When Galen returned to Laurel House Jack Waterford was waiting for him. The tall, thin man was wearing a tool belt and had his shoulder-length blonde hair tied back with a bit of string. “Repairs?” Galen asked.

“Upkeep.” Jack replied his voice had a slight Irish brogue, “Did you find what you were looking for?”

A group of sparrows had made their home in a corner of the room nearest the solarium; they twittered and chirped among themselves. A single cloud slipped across the sun sending a shadow arcing across the lodge. The light dusting of snow had already begun to evaporate but it was still enough to show two trails of footprints heading east Galen stared after them, “Where did Warren go?”

“For a walk.”

“A walk?”

“Don’t worry Hao is with him. She hasn’t lost a guest yet.” Jack smiled, “And I think you dodged my question.”

“Sorry.” Galen said, “But the manse was right where you said it would be. The mural was in perfect shape.”

“If you say so.”

“You’ve never been there?”

“Not my place.” Jack headed for the gazebo, “Come on, we’ll eat while we talk. Do you like roast beef?”

“Of course.”

They had to brush a little snow off the wood steps of the gazebo before they could sit. Jack had an old fashioned lunchbox with four sandwiches and three beers; he handed one of each to Galen. “Feeling settled in?” Jack asked.

“I think this is the calmest things have been for me in years.” Galen unwrapped the wax paper from the sandwich. There were designs of elaborate and flowing nonsense carved into the wooden structure.

Or maybe it wasn’t nonsense, there was so much Galen didn’t know about this place; perhaps that was why he had avoided it on his travels.

“How did the Culann place look?”

“Empty. A lot of old blood on the walls of the upstairs rooms. The nursery… where they might have tried to hide. It didn’t seem like there was much of a fight at all.”

Jack nodded with a distant expression, “The day it happened. At least the day I think it happened, it was February. Heavy snow everywhere, it was beautiful. I was in the solarium with Roxanne, we were playing poker. There is this crash in the kitchen and when we went to go find out what happened we saw Lydia on the floor just choking and thrashing around.”

“A seizure?”

“She was one of you Galen, and like you she’d come to us because she had nowhere else to go. Suddenly there she was dying on the kitchen floor next to what was left of her chicken casserole.” Jack took a long swig from his beer, “I left Roxanne with her while I ran to find Bodivar. I happened to look out one of the windows and I could see these black veins working their way through the snow.”

“What was it?”

“I don’t know for sure. It was like the ground was cracking open to let all this nothing out.”

“So,” Galen finished his sandwich. “What happened then?”

Jack offered him another one, “You eat pretty damn fast you know that?”

“An acquired habit.”

Wind chimes were hung at regular intervals around the structure, they chimed gently.

“Anyway, whatever they did. It lasted until morning then it was like it never happened, all that was left were these funny trails going through the snow. Of course it took about three springs for anything to grow in those spots. I built benches and this Gazebo to put over the worst of it.”

“Then how do you even know what happened?” Galen took a big bite out of a fresh sandwich.

“In the morning Hao came stumbling out of the woods.” Jack said, “She got lucky and got out of the house. I guess the servants weren’t the Monarch’s biggest concern.”

“She’s half-breed?” Galen cast an uncomfortable look to the house.

“Mixed heritage you mean?” There was something sharp in Jack’s tone, “She told us everything that happened. Whatever had darkened the snow had sickened High-Born and Common-Born. It must have been some kind of chemical weapon.”

“Of course it was.” Galen said darkly.

“Men dressed in dark fatigues stormed the house. They fought like men but didn’t die like them. The Culanns were too sickened to mount a defense, not that the Monarchs were looking for a battle. They were just cleaning house,”

Galen finished his meal in silence, washing his sandwiches down with two of the three beers. Then he asked, “What happened to Lydia?”

“She recovered but she said she was never the same after that night. She slit her wrists with an anelace.” Jack finished his own beer, “I flayed her and buried her bones back there in the garden. I think that’s the tradition isn’t it?”

Galen nodded.

Jack closed up his lunch box and hefted his tool belt, “Back to work for me, there are a few loose shingles I need to take a look at.”

“All right.” Galen said, “Could I see where you buried her?”

“You didn’t know her did you?” Jack asked.

“No.” Galen stood and, “Where is she?”

“To your right. Can’t miss it even in the snow.” Jack said from his perch on the roof of Laurel House.

That was fast. Galen marveled after him, I didn’t even hear him move away.

And there was no sign of a ladder anywhere.

Click here to continue

CINEMATIC TITANIC PRESENTS BLOOD OF THE VAMPIRES

This week I have been snowed in, yelled at, set back and the damn dog tried to attack be while me and the missus were trying to enjoy a little 'quality time' (Actually I call it 'quality time', she calls it 'get this drooling idiot off me!')

But regardless of that, I now have cause for joy because the latest Cinematic Titanic is coming out March!

This time that have chosen to shine their comic brilliance upon the horror film Blood of the Vampires.


Here is the teaser trailer for it. I laughed till I cried. (I cried because I can't afford to order the damn thing until next week!)




If you aren't enjoying these DVDs yet do yourself a favor and order them- better these guys get your hard earned cash than Michael Bay.

Now if you want to give your cash to me...

Let The Right One In (Låt den rätte komma in)

Yesterday I had to take the day off from work to take care of some car issues- repairs, oil changes and re-inspection. I tend to let these things slide for too long.

I had to drive past a movie theater on the way home, I only knew the theater as one of the few places I could go to take my daughter to see the 3-D Jonas Brothers concert film.

That was IF my daughter knew anything about it, I am doing my best to make sure that by the time she hears about said film she will be a surly teenager too busy hating me to be interest in such things.

Anyway imagine my surprise when I saw that said theater was showing Let the Right One In aka Låt den rätte komma in- a romantic horror film from Sweden about Vampirism

Now let it be known that while I certainly love it when horror and heartbreak mix I don’t like it when vampires are portrayed as figures of romance. Anne Rice did it perfectly in Interview with the Vampire and Poppy Z. Brite did a great turn on the subject with Lost Souls but I find that for me most of the other works on the subject read like Harlequin romances with crushed velvet and capes.

I should note that most people do like these kinds of stories as we can see from the success of things like the Anita Blake and Twilight series of novels. They just don’t work for me- and since I don’t like the movies Ghostbusters or Buckaroo Banzai my tastes can be seen as a little off.

Maybe it’s because I was raised on vampire films starring Bela Lugosi and Christopher Lee but I prefer my vampires to be imperious and cruel, selfish and broken, erotic and pathetic.

Maybe that’s why I can count on my one hand the number of post 1970’s vampire films that have truly sent shivers down my spine- Near Dark, Fright Night, Marebito. What do these films have in common? No fangs and romantic longing.

(It should also be noted that I loved the Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel TV shows but they always felt more pulp adventure than horror to me. Again your mileage varies and let’s not forget that I have Olivia Newton John and Nine Inch Nails on my iPod so my tastes are suspect.)

So as you can see as I really wasn’t all that interested in Let the Right One In at first glance but a fantastic cover story about the film in a recent issue of Rue Morgue magazine piqued my interest and it stayed piqued- I had planned to rent the film when it came out on DVD or pay per view but here the movie was right in front of me.

I had time to kill so why not? I bought my ticket and headed into the cinema. The place was a large standalone building, one half had the standard multiplex format but the other half was set aside for what were called the ‘bistro theaters’. Apparently it was where all he foreign and artsy fartsy films were kept well away from the likes of Alvin and the Chipmunks and Tomb Raider. Well it was a nice enough set up and hey instead of popcorn they served chocolate cake.

Now THAT is a movie theater.

I headed in to the theater itself and saw that it was about the size of one of my old apartments- just with arena style seating and no d20’s scattered all over the floor.

And I had the whole damn place to myself.

Well it was a weekday matinee.

Awesome. I sat dead center in the place and relaxed.

About two minute before showtime a young couple came in.

Under ordinary circumstances I prefer to watch horror films alone or with trusted friends, when you go out to the movies your enjoyment is suddenly dependent on whether or not there are any assholes in the audience with you.

There is a simple rule in my world, the only way you are allowed to chatter away in the theater with me is if you are either a former cast member of Mystery Science Theater or a supermodel gently massaging my junk.

I am not sure how I would react to one of the former cat members of Mystery Science Theater gently massaging my junk but I think the end result would be a dramatic increase in my meds.

Let the Right One In began, it began with out previews, it just started. A film without previews is kind of like making love without foreplay and if you want more details about that I’ll give you my wife’s email address.

The screen was too small for my tastes, the exit signs were too bright but with ten minutes the real world had faded away and I was in the world this movie had created.

The directing was perfect, the imagery unexpected and lyrical. The story itself weaves the myth of the vampire with the true life horror of childhood.

This film was brutally honest in its depiction of the world of a 12 year old, and the kids themselves feel like real kids- not the quippy little creatures that occupy most main stream Hollywood films.

(Be it known that in my stories most of the kids I write turn out pretty damn quippy too. It must be an American thing.)

Every element in the film was handled with such a deft touch that even now almost a day later I am still turning the film over in my head when I should be writing stories of how I failed to get laid through most of my twenties.

When the film ended and house the lights came up I remembered there were other people there with me as well. They had been as quiet as I was and as the credits rolled we actually talked about the film for a few moments. It was a very nice close to my experience with the film.

Of course now I want to see it again but I don’t think I could manage to have my car break down a second time.

Then again knowing my car…

In conclusion, see this movie, because Let the Right One In is at once the sweetest and most terrifying thing I have ever seen. I think some of the images in it will haunt me forever.

For my money this film will be seen as a classic in years to come.

Oh by the way, did you hear that Hollywood is already planning a remake?

Sigh.

The Kidney Stone Trilogy part three

"More About My Damn Kidney Stones"

Or

"It Don't Mean A Thing If it Ain't Got That String"

My mind was still too drug addled for me to be certain if it was me or the hospital bathroom that was pitching slowly back and forth. Once I was certain of my footing I shifted aside the fabric of my muumuu-like hospital gown so I could void my bladder. It was only a short while ago that I had awoken from my Ureteroscopy with an almost frantic need to relieve myself.

That sensation was forgotten the moment I caught a glimpse of my manhood. The doctor had left a pin-hole sized incision at the base of my urethral opening and from that incision there dangled a small length of dark blue string.

My first thought upon seeing this was, Well isn't that festive?

My second was AUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH!!!!!!

How did I come to this strange and sorry state? Let me bring you up to speed.

What began as a backache turned out to be a kidney stone, and a pretty darn painful one at that. Said kidney stone turned the next few days into a gauntlet of Doctor visits, x-rays and specimen bottles that ended up looking like the perfect accessories for the Bratz dolls ' Carrie White Prom Playset'.

The urologist discovered that this latest kidney stone was, much like my writing career, stuck. A week of medications and painkillers was the first course of action. The medications were sadly ineffective the painkillers however were spectacular. The only drawback was, as you regular readers of this blog may have noticed, that my writing suffered. Hours were wasted watching the Christmas tree lights flicker and blink, and even more hours were wasted writing TORCHWOOD/ MYSTERY SCIENCE THEATER 3000 crossover fan fiction. Emails went unanswered but relatives were called at odd hours of the night with even odder questions.

The next step involved me heading to the local outpatient surgery center. I'll admit to you I was a nervous wreck. My mother in law came along with me, she's a nurse practitioner and was able to draw upon her years of experience to respond to my increasingly panicked questions with a combination of tender wisdom and well-timed swats to the head.

That day I needed plenty both.

Once I had checked in the nurses gave me a hospital issue robe and gown, I was told I had to be wearing nothing else for the procedure.

There was a small snag at this point and the snag in question was my scrotum on the arm of the chair. When I informed the nurse that my gown was at least three sizes too small she nodded understandingly and then called out into the hallway, “Hey Rosie we need another Marlon Brando!”

Well maybe she didn't but I've been on drugs for the last three weeks, cut me some slack people.

Once my dangly bits were hidden from view an IV was added and questions about my the state of my health were gone over two or three times.

Then I was led to the operating room, my urologist and I had a quick hello and then I laid down on the table and started chatting with the anesthesiologist. I remember thinking to myself, All this just so I can take a piss without having to scream.

A few moments later the I wasn't thinking at all because the anesthesiologist injected into a cocktail of Midacum and other drugs into my IV line and darkness rolled over my mind like a dark wave. The last time I was put under for an operation I was six years old, I remember very little of it really. I guess I had always thought that when you get sedated you have Technicolor dreams of unicorns flying TIE fighters. This was not the case at all. I don't remember much of it right now except for an oblivion that seemed to threaten to go on forever, an oblivion that seemed to swallow me whole.

Truth be told the memory of it haunts me, its what I fear dying might be like. I still can't imagine what's worse, no afterlife at all or an afterlife that ends up being like an ethereal and inescapable family reunion. I can almost see it now, dozens of Bruno souls voluntarily exiling themselves to purgatory or reincarnating as tapeworms to avoid talking to me.

It was either forever or a few heartbeats later that I found myself starting to waken. On one hand I was trying to get out of bed, on the other I apparently had forgotten how to open my eyes. All I knew was that I was sure I had to go to the bathroom before I had an accident. Two nurses were trying to keep me down, eventually one of them gave me a bedpan. Other voices spoke to me but I am not sure what they said or if they were real at all. Eventually I sobered up enough for a nurse to lead me to a nearby bathroom.

And that's when I found the ripcord on my hoo-hah.

I called the nurse in and asked her if that was supposed to be there. She assured me that yes it was, that the string came part and parcel with getting a stent.

I should note that on this crazy and sedated day more than tripled the number of people in the world that have seen my loins.

And it is unlikely that number will change again unless I need more surgery or I finally break down and add a photo section to my website called 'A Little Somethin' For The Ladies'.

As I was led back to my room so I could get changed back into my street clothes I learned several things. I learned that it had taken them three tries to intubate me, due to an oddly shaped windpipe. (Does this mean I have a respiratory bypass system like a Time Lord? I can only hope...) I learned that while the kidney stone they removed from me was only 2 millimeters in diameter it had been shaped much like the starship that had rocketed Superman to Earth in the 1978 film. I learned that I had three new prescriptions to take for the next two weeks, one of which was that tasty tasty Vicodin. I learned that the blue string meant that a stent had been run along the length of my urethra so the damage done by stone and surgery could be repaired; it would remain in place for the next 11 days and during that time I would experience painful urination that would have blood as well as the occasional stone fragment or scab. When I asked at what point I would start to feel better they just smiled and changed my prescription from Vicodin to Oxycodone.

Once I was home my wife and mother in law put me to bed. My daughter had a Christmas pageant that night but there was no way I was able to go and that made me really sad, at least until the Oxycodone kicked in, then I spent the next few hours trying to explain the UNIT dating controversy to my dogs.

The 12 days of Christmas passed in a pleasant haze, I watched TV, I played video games, I overate but I sadly couldn't sleep comfortably unless I was sitting up on the couch. The In Laws came over for Christmas and it was a great visit but I was too woozy to put together my daughter's new two story doll house but her grandpa picked up the slack quite nicely. While he did that my daughter backed me snacks with her new Easy Bake oven until she ran out of mixes. Just was well really I was about to slip into diabetic shock.

Later I got around to opening my Christmas gift, a complete set of the first five CINEMATIC TITANIC releases. What is CINEMATIC TITANIC you may ask? It is the newest project from the creators of MYSTERY SCIENCE THEATER 3000, it is five funny people mocking some of the worst films ever made for you entertainment and enlightenment.

Now I know there are some people out there that never enjoyed MYSTERY SCIENCE THEATER 3000, I refer to those people as 'The Damned' but I think even they would be entertained by CINEMATIC TITANIC. And if they don't then we'll just call them 'The Doubly Damned'.

My wife even got me a CINEMATIC TITANIC t-shirt that I wore most of the next week, frequently in tandem with a jaunty looking beret.

I also had a chance to check out the newest DOCTOR WHO Christmas Special but since I'm not in England I'm not sure how.

Again I blame the drugs.

Finally December 29th rolled around and it was time to have the stent removed. I was glad of it, I had been out of work for over twenty days by then and I was actually starting to miss my soulless corporate overlords, and I missed the challenge of stealing office supplies.

The urologist told me that everything was good and that once the stent was removed I would be able to relive myself without trauma or cursing. As I sat there with my pants low and my hopes high I asked him what kind of sedation would be used to remove the stent.

Imagine my surprise when I learned there would be none.

He pulled on his rubber gloves and had me stand over a waste basket- apparently in anticipation of the outpouring of blood, urine and tears he was soon to create. He told methat I would feel some momentary discomfort. I closed my eyes and hoped for the best.

And he pulled the string.

It felt like I was peeing a stream of hot lava that was going on for ten feet. I made the same kinds of sounds that Curly from the Three Stooges made when he caught his head in something.

And then just when I thought it was over he pulled out the rest.

“There,” he said to me. “That wasn't so bad was it?”

Wasn't so bad?

Let me tell you a story dear reader. In the fall of 1991 my great grandmother died, she was ill and in a coma but her passing still hit me pretty darn hard. My friends tried to cheer me up by taking me to a movie, sadly that movie was HIGHLANDER 2.

Having a stent removed was only sightly less worse than that day.

I got home a short while later and made my way to the bathroom, there was no sign of where the string had been and when I relieved myself there was no pain. For the first time in weeks.

So that's it, the story of the most geekiest, trippiest, not workingest Christmas ever.

But I shudder to think what Easter has in store for me.