tehfallenjuan-blog

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Pair with “Requiem for a Sander”. 

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Requiem for a Sander

Hector “Buffsand” de Lija, 37, of Jacksonville, FL, was killed this Saturday passed, the 17th of June, 2017 in an unfortunate workplace accident.

A funeral service will be held this upcoming Sunday, the 25th of June at Sowerberry and Sons Funeral Parlour and Cremation Services. Visitations are to be held the day prior, though the family feels obliged to mention no body has been recovered, due to the nature of the incident which lead to Mr. De Lija’s untimely demise. As such, there will be no open casket.

Hector was born in 1980 in Guadalajara, Mexico, to mother Maria de Lija (nee Anderson). At age 3, the family relocated to Jacksonville, where they have resided ever since. Graduating from Glassman Elementary and High in 1999, Hector spent his early 20’s travelling state to state before returning to Jacksonville to join his step-father’s construction firm.

Hector, or “Buffsand” as his friends call him, rose to the status of local celebrity in January of 2012, when he emerged as the sole survivor of the Chappi Airlines disaster of that year. Following the death of step-father Lee in the summer of 2011, Hector was set to take over the company, but the injuries sustained from the crash and the resulting medical fees bankrupted the venture. At the time of his death, Mr. De Lija was working as general handyman for Stainworks Jobs. He had been engaged in a fierce and long-running series of court battles with ex-members of the (now dissolved) Chappi Airlines.

He is survived by twins Maria and Katie, son Michael and their respective mothers, Alexis and Marta, all of whom reside locally. A fund has been set up in their name by internationally renowned pharmaceutical titan Aadidev Dhana, the summer home of whom Hector was working at when a gas canister malfunctioned and exploded last Saturday evening. He was the only casualty.

Hector was a patient man whose life was often not an easy one. He has been described by friends and colleagues alike as a hardworking, determined individual, as well as a committed family man for his children. Beach days with the family were common activity. He also enjoyed toying around with his step-father’s old Ford Fiesta in his free time. He was a life-long smoker.

“And I saw something like a sea of glass mixed with fire, and those who had been victorious over the beast and his image and the number of his name, standing on the sea of glass, holding harps of God.”

-Revelation 15:2

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Pair with “Transcript of a Smoker”

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Transcript of a Smoker

The following is a transcript of a post-op interview between by Agent Eliza Mendez and field operative Donald Huo concerning the recent incident in Jacksonville. It was retrieved by one of the cafeteria employees after Dr. Roth left it there during his lunch break. He ate toast with honey.

 It’s real important, Rudolph, and more important is it’s REAL HUSH HUSH. DON’T just leave it lying around. OK??? We don’t want anything like that nasty business with the gun shipment again. Or the bees. We can’t be having anymore bee related incidents, Rudolph, I truly mean it.

Love you.

-Your brother, Randolf Roth

  Mendez: Please state your name for the record.

Huo: Poker. CAPTAIN Poker.

Mendez: For Christ’s sakes Donny be serious. You’re in a lot of trouble you know.

Huo: (sigh) Donald Huo.

Mendez: Could you state your age for the record.

Huo: 24. They have all this on file you know?

Mendez: Shut up. What is it you do for Camoose Tobacco Ltd, Mr. Huo? Your full, official job title please.

Huo: Mr. Huo? omg Eliza holy shit. Can we be less, I don’t know, corporate? And to answer your question I don’t work for Camoose Tobacco Ltd, and I never have. I work for Stainworks House Jobs and it’s my 4th day tomorrow.

Mendez: Fine Donald.

Huo: Getting’ there.

Mendez: This isn’t for the assholes back at the base, Donald, this is for The Brothers. Could you please take this seriously? Or at least try to?

Huo: Ooooooh the brothers. I’m real scared. The Brother’s Roth, whatever will we do?

Mendez: I don’t think you really, I dunno, get how big a deal this – what happened on your mission – the fire, all of it. We need to know exactly what happened and plan accordingly, because this will most certainly have consequence—

Huo: Oh, so now its “we”, eh? I knew you were career-oriented and determined and empowered and all that stuff but since when have any of us been on an equal footing with those two?

Mendez: That is TOT—

Huo: AND yes. I do, I dunno, GET how BIG of a DEAL this is. That man is DEAD because of ME. EXCUSE me if I’m having a hard time processing it into actual coherent sentences right now.

Mendez: I –

Huo: FINE. I’ll tell you ALL ABOUT IT. This guy, Hector, he’s my boss on this site. Real nice guy, one of those types you feel bad about lying to. But you still do because you’d be kind of a shit undercover assassin if you went around telling the truth to everyone now wouldn’t you? (he lights a cigarette) No, he was a nice guy, and he told me about his life, his kids, his hobbies. He really loved the work, to him it was like a craft, real respectable. I don’t think he liked me very much but hey if I’d been using a different cover it might’ve gone different. (he takes a long drag). But anyway, somehow, and really, I have no idea how, that’s the truth, he got a hold of one of my cigarettes. One of the gadget ones.

(Above: Concept art for “Poker”, the Weebiest Corporate Spy there is)

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Pair with “Shattered”

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Shattered

All the trouble started with the boy. The little bastard.

No, it started a long time ago. I don’t think I’ve ever known a time without trouble.

When my eyes melted out of their sockets and the world went black I didn’t expect the lights to come back on so soon, but lo and behold here we are.

How’d we get here? Let’s retrace some steps. Dropped off Mikey at school in the morning. I was running late so I stopped at a gas station for a breakfast burrito.

It was good.

Got to the site. No access to the house which is a pain in the ass. Had to piss in a bush a few blocks down. No place to go shit, which I remember being an issue. Breakfast burrito, you know?

Then what? Little rich boy prick needed some educating. His 3rd day working with his hands ever in his life and I’m his jobsite manager of course. I think his daddy had sent him over to us for some “authentic life experience”, learn what it feels like to bust your balls off working for a living.

I shouldn’t hate, that’s respectable.

I shouldn’t hate.

He’s a nice enough kid. Clean cut. Which is why it surprised me when he asked to bum a smoke off me the second day. Didn’t look like he smoked, you know? Honestly got some health-nut vibes off him, brother was in killer shape. Least he had that going for him, the work never tired him out.

Is that how I ended up here? The breakfast burrito? I’ve had spicy shits before, the kind when your asshole feels hotter than the devil’s. Once on the bus, the night before I’d eaten some of my mom’s actual real burritos, two chilli peppers spicy level. And, I don’t know, this residue spice must’ve been caught on the roof of my mouth all night, cuz when I swallowed on the bus the next day it felt like I’d snorted wasabi. My eyes started watering and it felt like I was gonna spit fire onto the next chair over. Was it just that?

No. Food spice hurts like a bitch sometimes, but I’ve never known it to disintegrate people into puddles on the floor. They scooped me up into a jar and now I’m here, on some shelf. But what am I?

  Kid comes up to me at the end of the day, says some dumb bullshit. Goes home. Fucker didn’t finish cleaning up properly so I gotta do it. Classic. I’m wiping down the surface of the deck he’s just spent the day jackhammering away at with the sanding gear. It’s not so bad, a few scratches here and there, but the kids getting the hang of it.

I don’t know how, but his cigarettes must’ve fallen out of his pocket. A pack of Camoose. Golds. Nice shit. I hope the god he just bought these because if not the cheap little bastard took me for a ride when he asked me for one. I do what anyone would do in this situation, I think? I take the pack and I gift myself one cigarette. I’ll give him the pack back tomorrow morning.

I finish cleaning up and sit on the front steps while Rohit is on his way in a Black Subaru, and I spark up.

…

The whole street. I spark up the whole street. I don’t know why, or how, or what. It was all done and dusted in a matter of seconds. The tip glowed a bright, phosphorescent light and then I that was all I could see. Then the world melted away and I woke up here. In this jar. Slopping and sliding around.

I don’t know how, or why, or what. But I’m a sentient puddle of molten glass, and I’m in a jar on Mr. Dhana’s desk. Outside the sirens wail as the fire trucks roll in around the house.

(Concept art for Mr. Buffsand. Originally he and the glass entity were different characters, but I have a tendency to set my characters on fire rather dramatically sometimes. Because of some science reason or some government conspiracy stuff, Hector’s skin was naturally like sandpaper. When the paper burns away and the sand melts, all that’s left is a tiny puddle of glass, which Buffsand takes as his body in the above picture.)