stindleswords-blog

[stindleswords-blog]

Ep. 2

The chiming bell chipped against the walls of his ear drum all the way from the other side of the parking lot. This was no merry tune to him, it was the signal of a moral war. It was that time of the year again though. The big jolly red saint stood there watching as the patrons of the shopping plaza redirected their routes just to avoid his pressing gaze. He swung that hand bell back and forth as if he was swinging down the gavel on they’re trial. Everyone pleaded guilty to the naughty list on this cold and greedy day. Aaron unfortunately had no choice but to take on the old saint of judging by the horns, since the old man was sta0nding in front of the only entrance to Macy’s.

“Happy holidays!” Santa shouted.

“You know you can just say merry Christmas right? I mean, you’re wearing the outfit, might as well just commit to the Christmas thing right.”

“Well, the Salvation Army wouldn’t want anyone to feel excluded from the spirit of giving!”

“Yeah, I guess. Well, happy holidays then.” Aaron turned to walk away but the bell ringer coughed to get his attention.

“Wouldn’t you like to make a donation to help feed the poor on Christmas day?”

“Uh, yeah sure.” Aaron plunged his hands in the depths of his pockets searching for whatever change he could scrape together. Santa just kept smiling and waving that bell as he waited. “Here, this is all I have.”

“Three dimes, a penny, and a button?” Santa asked with an echo of silent judgement in his tone.

“Oh sorry, I don’t know how that got in there. I’ll just—”

“Oh no,” Santa said taking the button and change before Aaron could pull it away. “The button alone is twice as much, as what the homeless ‘have’ on Christmas.”

“Right… well I’m gonna, just… bye.”

“Happy holidays!”

Aaron just needed a pair of shorts for the gym—since he was too lazy to do laundry this week. It was just supposed to be a quick trip to the store and then off to get some exercise in. But as he was paying the cashier, the bell started ringing again. The sound was so piercing and persistent it felt as if it was coming from the inside of his ear. Aaron slowly turned his head hoping he wouldn’t see a jolly fat man looking back at him.

“Here’s your change: $15.62. Except we’re a little short in the cash register today, so is it ok if I just give you this twenty?” Aaron was busy staring at the store window. On the other side stood the jolly bell ringer swinging his bell of guilt and gazing upon Aaron with a smile of disappointment. “Sir, can you take your change? I want to go on my lunch break.”

“No, I’m pretty sure if you hand me that twenty dollar bill, Santa Clause is going to murder me.”

“Oh? Yeah, I’ve been there. Had sex with the Easter Bunny once actually.”

“What?”

She leaned in close and whispered, “I didn’t want to do it at first either, but the truth is if you start taking the pills they go away after a while.”

“Ok, well my thing was real,” he responded taking the bill. “This is why everyone shops at J.C. Penney. Fucking Macy’s; step up your screening process…” He took the twenty and braved exiting out the entrance where the bell ringer stood watching him.

“Happy holidays!” he shouted as Aaron rushed through the doorway avoiding eye contact. He kept waving his bell as he watched Aaron scuttle away to the safety of the parking lot. Aaron quickly pulled out his keys and clicked the unlock button as he turned to his car, but standing in front of his door was his good ole friend St. Nick, waving his bell and smiling. “Would you like to donate to feeding the poor on Christmas?”

“I already donated. How did you get over here?”

“Can you really put a limit on feeding the hungry? It is the spirit of giving you know!”

The only thing Aaron could think about was how hungry he would be if he gave away is remaining funds for the week. The hungry were used to being hungry, they’re pros at starving. Aaron on the other hand, was just an amateur at it. “I’ll just walk to the gym. It’ll be a good warm up.”

“Happy holidays!”

Aaron practically ran out of the parking lot trying to escape the horrid echo of that bell. Yet, no matter how far away as he got the ringing never seemed to fade. In fact, it was growing louder and louder with every step. Suddenly, he could hear the ringing coming from in front of him. He looked up and there he stood, the jolly undertaker of donation funds, waving his bell outside the doors to the gym.

“Happy holidays!”

“I already gave you all my change!” He screamed back as he ran inside the gym hoping he would finally be safe from the ringing.

Aaron didn’t find quite the escape he had hoped for. Inside, the gym was playing jingle bells over the speaker system on a constant loop. He tried ignoring the music and plugging in his headphones before jumping on the treadmill. The jog didn’t help clear his mind as much as he hoped because he suddenly started to hear the ringing again, and last time he checked Justin Bieber’s, The Feeling, doesn’t have bells in the beat. He took off his headphones and realized the ringing wasn’t in his head, but coming from the treadmill next to him. His head slowly turned again, in disbelief at the possibility of who it might be next to him.

“Happy holidays!” the bell ringer shouted while jogging on the treadmill. He was still in full costume, waving his bell in cadence with his stride, even the kettle was with him, but even worse than that, he had much better running form than Aaron.

“Leave me alone!” Aaron screamed as he jumped off the treadmill and ran away.

It was becoming clear that the ringing was inescapable. Aaron was beginning to question the very nature of his own reality. Somehow he had been sucked into a tormented maze of a world where every turn was a trap, and every trap was a guilt trip. He found himself running down a dark alleyway, but the ringing was still as present as ever. It echoed off the walls and hit him right in his conscience. He tried ignoring it. He just kept moving forward hoping his suffering would end. But when he got the end of that alleyway he found no more corners to turn to. It was a dead-end. And when he turned around…

“Happy holidays!” the man screamed only two inches away from his face. “Would like to donate and help feed the homeless on Christmas day?”

“Here!” Aaron had cracked. “Just take it! Matter of fact, take it all,” he continued as he poured out the entire contents of his wallet. “This, is literally, all I have. Will you just leave me alone and, for the love of God, will you stop, ringing, that damn bell!”

The bell ringer suddenly perked up. He stopped waving the bell and looked inside of his kettle with a satisfied expression. “Oh, God bless sir. You truly are giver. It’s rare to meet such selfless people these days. Whelp, have a merry Christmas! And remember: god hates the gays!” And just like that he left. His bell didn’t even ring once as he walked away.

“What?” Aaron gasped in confusion. But the Salvation Army collector had already stormed off. The torment was over. He took in a deep breath and basked in the pain free silence that was now gracing his ears. Unfortunately the moment was short lived, as he began to hear a series of groans and coughs.

“Spare any change sir?”

Aaron looked down to observe several homeless men and women now surrounding him all with their hands out ready to receive a donation just as generous as the one he just made. It appeared Aaron had opened the Pandora’s Box of charity. He knew escape was futile at this point.

“Ugh, you guys have a PayPal account?”

“No, but we accept Bit Coin.”

Working Title

Episode 2: The Film Major

The two gentlemen sat across from each other waiting in an awkward silence. Aaron made the mistake of looking up and smiling at the stranger, the young man hadn’t stopped staring and smiling back at him since. There wasn’t much of an excuse to escape the strange man’s gaze in that cramped conference room. Besides the table in front of them, the only other object his eyes could wander to was a fichus tucked in the corner of the room.

“That’s a nice plant huh?” Aaron finally said. The strange boy just kept smiling and staring. “You think they have a guy come in and water these every night? Or woman, I’m gardener fluid. Wonder how it gets sunlight.” The man tilted his head but remained locked in his gaze. “So… what’s your name?”

“Raul” he responded with a wide smile.

“Raul, well that’s cool.” He returned back to silently watching Aaron. “My name’s Aaron, in case you wanted to also know my name.”

“Raul,” he exclaimed again.

“And that’s… your name. Alright then.” Raul just kept smiling and nodding. “So did you graduate here too?”

“2020,” his smiling mug responded.

“2020? In two years? You graduate in 2020?”

“2020.”

“How old are you? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Old?” He asked in confusion. “Oh! The age? Uh, twenty four.”

“24? Oh, are you on an exchange program or anything? You just sound like you didn’t grow up from around here.”

“No program. I move here for college, from Brazil.”

“Oh, wow that’s cool man. You just move out a couple of years ago?”

“Move… uh, six years ago?”

“Oh! Oh… so are you a sophomore this year or?”

“Senior,” He smiled.

“You’re a senior? So you should be graduating soon right?”

“2020!” he responded in excitement.

“2020,” Aaron said trying to share in his excitement, hiding his own confusion.

The two returned to their silence and Aaron caught himself in another awkward battle to escape Raul’s pressganging gaze. Fortunately his struggle to find a distraction didn’t have to dawdle on for too long; the door swung open and a professional looking young man made his entrance.

“Hello, sorry for running behind this morning, I got caught up in some editing work,” he stopped mid-sentenced when he looked up and realized only two of the sixteen seats surrounding the table were filled.

“All good,” Aaron cut in, “we’ve just been getting to know each other.”

“Raul,” Raul responded, turning to each of them and smiling.

“Oh, well I guess everyone else must be running late too.”

“You mean like, the people who forgot to put their name on the signup sheet?”

“What?” he asked, confused by the remark. He looked down at the signup sheet and saw how blank it was. His amused look faded into disappointment. “Oh, so it’s just you guys then?”

“Try not to jump us with your excitement all at once now…” Aaron joked.

“No, sorry,” the young man laughed it off. “I just thought that more people would sign up. My brother told me that signup wall was pretty popular. Well, let’s just get right into it.” He removed his coat revealing his business like outfit of a button up, tie, and slacks. “My name is Charles. Uh, a little about me? I recently finished acquiring my Bachelor’s Degree in filmmaking from little well known school down south. You might have heard of it, Loyola Marymount University School of Film and Television.”

“Oh, LMU?” Aaron clarified.

“Yes, LMU for short,” Charles said with less enthusiasm. “Anyways, after receiving my diploma, I ended up coming back home while I try to discover more about myself and apply to grad schools. In the meantime, I came up with the idea to establish this digital media startup company so I could continue honing my craft, and maybe even produce some note-worthy stuff in the process.”

“So you’re the only one?”

“What?” Charles’ proud smile faded once again.

“In the, ‘digital media startup’? The flier made it seem like there was a whole group of you…?”

“Well, now there is,” he gestured to Aaron and Raul.

“Raul!” Raul shouted, but this time he seemed annoyed that he had to repeat his name again. Charles looked confused.

“All startups start somewhere, hence the name,” Charles joked, “and if today’s meeting goes well, you all will be a part of that start. I do have some other people who have agreed to help out every now and then, but no firm commitments have been made. Anyways, we really should get this meeting going along, we only have the study room for an hour. I’ve told you a little about myself, now it’s your turn. Uh, just start with some basic stuff: your name, what year you are, what you hope to contribute to this production crew, and what you hope to get out of it as well.”

“Raul,” Raul shouted in frustration hoping everyone would finally get the hint. Charles looked freaked out by the outburst.

“I don’t think he speaks much English,” Aaron clarified. “But my name is Aaron, I actually just finished acquiring my Bachelor’s Degree in Creative Writing from little well known school right here. You might have heard of it, San Francisco State University, School of gender fluid bathrooms and anti-white people dreadlock awareness.” Charles’ didn’t quite pick up on Aaron’s mocking tone.

“Oh, awesome, another BA man. My little sister is actually a sophomore here, she’s the one who rented out the study room for me actually. Class of 2020!”

“2020!” Raul shouted, returning to his gleeful expression.

“Yeah!” Charles shared in his excitement.

“Oh no,” Aaron cut back in, “Raul is actually planning on graduating the same time as your sister.”

“Oh! …oh. Well that’s fine, we all go at our own pace. What are your interests with this group Raul?” Raul seemed confused so Charles pointed to the flier and gestured as if he were holding a camera. “Why do you want to ‘film’?”

“Oh, the TV?” Raul turned and looked at the both of them with an earnest joy. “I want to be on famous American Television. Like Kylie Jenner.”

“He wants to be a Kardashian,” Aaron smiled to Charles, “Looks like he’s already got the ‘American Dream’ thing figured out.”

“Well, um, you both sound like perfect fits for the production team.”

“And what exactly will we be producing?”

“Oh, uh short films, short comedic satires, really anything we want to. As long as they’re short concise productions that could gain traction on digital media domains or other social media outlets.”

“So we’re making vines?” Aaron asked with skepticism.

“Well no, Vine is no longer a thing.”

“Ok, so we’re making YouTube videos…”

“Um, well yeah basically.”

“So this is really just more of a hobby for you than a legit startup?”

“Well, actually a lot of YouTube channels have formed into multimillion dollar corporations. Just the other day I think one sold for 50 million. YouTube has a really great revenue sharing set up with its users, so it’s actually a great outlet to make some profit, if you’re getting views that is.”

“Do you have a plan on how we can actually get views though and not just look like a bunch of dumb kids who just discovered the internet?”

“Yes, I understand your concerns, but I do have a plan. It’s called ten trend polling.”

“And what does that mean?”

“Essentially we just have to cash in on whatever’s trending…”

“Kylie Jenner!” Raul shouted.

“Yes,” Charles responded, once again feeling deflated. “Like… Kylie Jenner.”

“Can I write for the videos still?” Aaron asked.

“What? Yeah of course. I was hoping that eventually everyone would get a chance to write something, direct, but since we’re such a small unit, we’re all going to have to share the duties of the production crew. Acting, equipment, camera work, so yes, contributing in any way is encouraged.”

“Awesome. I’m down.”

“Really? Just like that.” Charles seemed confused

“Yeah, I don’t got anything better to do. What’s the first trend we need to cash in on?”

“Well, if we can get something in the works for Christmas pretty soon—”

“I have a script for a Christmas video!” Aaron excitedly cut in.

“Already?”

“Yup.”

“Do You just write Christmas scripts for fun?”

“I had a weird dream over thanksgiving break, and I find, if I write about the dreams they tend to go away.”

“Oh, oh… is it… is it a sad script?”

“No, it’s funny you’ll love it. I’ll bring copies next time.”

“Um, alright then this is great work. I guess for now all we have to do is plan our first meeting and shoot time. When are you guys available?”

“All week.” Aaron quickly jumped back in.

“All week? Just, whenever? You don’t have like a work schedule or any internships to work around?”

“Like I said, I literally have nothing better to do.”

“Um ok then… and Raul how about you?”

“Mi llamo es RAUL! Ustedes no comprehende? Estupid.”

“Ok,” Charles responded with a calm tone trying to mask his horror. “How about we all just exchange numbers and then decide from there.”

“Sounds good boss man.”

“Just jot down your numbers on the signup sheet and I’ll text you mine. Rau—”

“RAUL! ES RAUL!” Raul shot out of his chair in a rage filled tantrum that drew the interests of everyone in the computer lab watching outside the conference room windows. “RAUL RAUL RAUL!”

“Or….” Charles and Aaron were now both fearing for their lives. “I’ll just write down my number and you guys can text me later. That sounds better. Great first meeting…”

***scene one cuts***

Later that night Aaron went to see Evie, at their usual time, in their usual way. The night passed and the two laid there, in the mess of the bed they had made, holding one another and talking. This part was not too common a tradition of their nights together, but lately Aaron found himself looking most forward to this part more than any other. Of course, he thought she was aware of this, perhaps even using it against him, or training him like a dog with a treat for every time he behaved well.

“You don’t sound too excited about it?”

“I just never pictured myself being one of those guys, trying to be internet famous. I’ve never been big on internet trends or anything. And something about this Charles guy just feels off, like I don’t see how me and him would be in the same room in any other situation.”

“Yeah well you say that about everyone you don’t want to stick your dick in.” She looked up at him and smiled, he shrugged the comment off and kept brushing his hand through her hand. “Just be open to it, might as well get as much out of it as you can if you’re going to try. Stop trying to be such a loner and learn to enjoy the world around you for once. At least you’ll finally have something to do besides bug me all day.”

“Don’t act like you don’t like when I bug you?”

“Mmm,” she responded, refusing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Suddenly she jerked up from her spot and jumped over him to the edge of the bed. She started collecting her clothes from the pile of clothing sprawled out on the floor and buttoning up. Aaron seemed confused by her sudden choice to dress up.

“You going to sleep in that?” he asked.

“Uh, no? I’m going to go home and change into my pajamas and sleep in those.”

“You don’t want to just stay the night?”

“Ugh, look I can’t sleep here anymore. You do too much weird shit in your sleep.”

“What?” Aaron shot up offended by the accusation. “No I don’t.”

“See, that’s the problem. Weird sleepers can never admit they do weird shit in their sleep. All you’ve done is further convinced me that this can’t work.”

“No, just stay ok. I promise I’ll be better.” She could sense the sadness hiding behind the statement, and she thought she’d finally cut him slack.

“Fine. But if you get too weird I’m leaving.”

Aaron assumed that if his subconscious was aware of his strange slumbering quirks that he would be able to control himself and thus stop them from happening. Unfortunately for the sleep creeper, this myth did not forebode true, and poor Evelynn, wrapped in the sleeping giant’s grasp, had nowhere to escape to.

“They’ll never know…” he whispered in her ear.

“Know what?” she asked, still barely awake.

“What we did with the fetus.”

“What??” she said, now fully alarmed.

“Put it in my apple,” he demanded with an erotic aggression.

“What apple?”

“Do it. Now.”

“Are you asleep again?” She tried turning towards him but he wrapped his arm tighter around her neck, allowing her barely enough room to breathe.

“The midget’s trying to get away again!”

“Did you just call me a midget?!” she screamed trying not to choke.

“I told you. We should’ve tried to kill it last time. It’s seen too much!”

“You’re scaring me. Wake up!”

“Ave anni mra zhor!” Aaron shouted as he began tearing up.

“Wait, what did you just say?” Evelynn asked with a sudden shock of interests.

“Ifas maisi yeri!”

“What the…” Evelyn jabbed him in the ribcage with her elbow and jumped out of the bed as soon as he released her. Aaron woke up groaning in pain. “YOU LIED TO ME!” she yelled at him with an aggressive point.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“You told me you don’t watch Game of Thrones!”

“What? I don’t!”

“Then why were you just speaking Dothraki!?”

“What is Dothraki?!”

“You know what is, you vikeesi…”

“What is that??”

She paused for a moment and then began to clam. She was giving Aaron a look, a look that meant she had just came up with an idea and she wouldn’t rest until she tried it. “If you can figure out how to say some more of it, I might just be in the mood for another round…” she started biting her lips and pulling her shirt down.

“Really?” Suddenly Aaron had forgotten all about his bruising rib and became the world’s top Dothraki enthusiast.

The two were back at it like it was the last night of Coachella. With Evelyn bent over and facing away, Aaron was able to pull out his phone and keep his bilingual tongue alive.

“Shieraki gori ha yeran?” he said hoping his pronunciations were correct.

“Yeah it is baby. Keep it coming for mama.”

“Uh… ase shafki athdrivar?”

“Yer chomoe anna!” she screamed back.

“Um, yeah, uh. Anha dothrak chek asshekh!”

“What?” she didn’t quite get that one.

“Anha zalak asshekhqoyl vezhvena yeraan!” his pronunciations were getting shaky.

“What, no?” she wasn’t as pleased with his word choice. “How about you just say this: ‘anha dothrak adakhatann choyo!”

“Uh, anha Dothrak adakhatann choyo?”

“Yes! Mami likey, keep going.”

“Anha Dothrak adakhatann choyo!” he shouted with more confidence.

“Yes! MORE! MORE!”

“Anha Dothrak adakhatann choyooooo!”

“ATHDAVRAZAR!” she screamed as she began to climax.

“Anha Dothrak adakhatann choyo! What am I even saying?” He began scrolling through the online translator and did not enjoy what he discovered. “What? No. No I will not be doing that.”

She got up from her elbows and wrapped her hands around his neck. She looked him in the eyes pulled him close, and said, “I will take what is mine with fire and blood! I am the blood of the dragon!”

“What?” Aaron was now fearing for his life. “What are you saying?”

“DRACARYS!” she shouted as she pulled his head down.

“Wait no, what? Sto—gjsdjnfhjrf” Aaron’s words became inaudible as his mouth became full. Evelyn continued screaming in her erotic tongue all night.

***Scene two cuts***

The newly formed production crew of Aaron, Charles, and Raul, met up later that week to begin production on their first comedic short together. They agreed upon Aaron’s Christmas script and Charles was able to get his friend Mika to help out, as the script called for a female cast member. They met at Charles’s house. It was decorated in head to toe in Christmas décor and Filipino furnishing.

“Wow you really got this place set up in the Christmas spirit.” Aaron said as he walked through the door with a big crate in hand.

“Yeah, my family’s really into Christmas,” Charles responded, “and every other American holiday they can get into. You don’t want to be here on Fourth of July. Oh, this is my friend from high school, Mika, she’s the one I told you about.”

“Oh hey, thanks for agreeing to help out today.”

“No problem,” Mika responded, “I’ve never gotten the chance to show off my Pilipino accent when I’m not at family events.” She laughed.

“I’m glad you’re excited,” he responded. “Is Raul already here?”

“Yeah, I got him set up with the sound equipment over there,” Charles pointed over to the dining room where Raul was tangled in a long cord and trying to balance the boom stick over his head. He waved with an eager expression. “He’s still trying to get the hang of it. You brought the costumes?”

“Yup, got a sweet deal at the year-round Halloween store. But all sales are final, so hopefully we can work these into future characters.”

“Awesome and the scripts?”

“Yup!” He dropped the crate to the ground and pulled out the four scripts inside. “Here you both go.”

“Sweet,” Mika responded with the same excited expression.

“Oh,” Charles said while examining the last page of the script.

“What’s up?”

“You didn’t change the ending?”

“Well yeah, I liked it and I figured too much tinkering wasn’t the best idea.”

“Yeah but it’s so…” he paused, looking for the right word. “Out there?”

“Well yeah, it’s a comedy sketch right?”

“I thought we were going to go with something more heartwarming, something family oriented? You know, in tune with the usual Christmas motifs.”

“Yeah, but nothing I thought of seemed to fit the tone. It’s funny this way man. Just, don’t take the script too seriously, alright?” he hit Charles on the shoulder and walked into the dining room where the equipment was set up. Charles remained behind, standing in place for a moment, staring at the script with a bit of displeasure.

[stindleswords-blog]

Because being apart of a community is healthy

hello ! new writing blog

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Reblog if you:

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[stindleswords-blog]

Ep 1

“Um, hello.” The mic began ringing through the room as he adjusted it. “My name is—”

“No names!” the host yelled from the bar.

“What?”

“Do you not understand the concept of a blind reading?”

“Oh, I thought it meant you just had do the reading blind! … Cause the lights are so bright. Haha.” No one else laughed. “They’re so bright and in your eyes, you can’t even… you might as well be blind, right? Ha... ha…”

He started wishing he was blind, that way he wouldn’t have had to look down at all the unamused scowls staring up at him. It was his fault really. He should have recognized this stage was a death trap from the moment he entered the building. As sweat began trickling down his skull, his mind began retracing every nervous step he took to get here, and suddenly he began drowning in a flash flood of regret

As soon as he swung that vandalized door open his lungs became poisoned by the pollution of coffee and hookah in the air. The small café/bar hybrid was dimly lit to create an illusion of poetic ambiance, but this was just a mask to the truth. The choice of lighting was actually there to aid in cloaking the piercing judgement of the local consumers. They would sit there, shaded in the dark, drinking their Kombucha’s and taking petite bites out of their gluten free scones, as they shot penetrating stabs of disapproval with their culturally charged laser-beam eyes. Navigating his way to the stage of that café was like walking through a minefield. With every step he could feel his millennial authenticity leaking out of the bullet holes of his soul. Was the catchphrase on his shirt politically correct yet still ironic enough for their taste? Should he have ordered an espresso from the café bar instead of bringing a frap from Starbucks? And there was no way his piercing free face was earning him any street cred. Soon they would discover he was a fraud, and all his deepest fears would come to life.

“Um, I’m going to read for you today, my short story. It’s called The Light Under, uh.” He held his notebook up to his nose and tried squinting hoping his eye lids would block out the bright light beaming down on him. “Under Hilda’s Nose.”

“What?” someone in the audience asked.

“Rose. The Light under Hilda’s Rose!” He looked up, proud of his creative yet classy title and smiled into the abyss of the crowd.

“Are you going to read or what? Ole gap-toothed-ass motha fucka.”

“Oh.” His smile shrunk and he looked down as if he were trying to observe his own mouth. He shut his lips and even considered covering it with his hand while he read, but realized that would only make him look dumber. “Um. She, she was soft like Austin—ah! Soft like autumn. And I was the, the breeze of wient-winter. I spring to meet h—no, crap, I mean. In spring I met-bleh. Shit, lost my place. I’ll just start…”

“Oh my gosh, did he even rehearse before coming?” “What an amateur.”

“Found it!” He shouted after fumbling through the page with his finger. “There. Her rash hid the, uh… her rosh—ross—roseee, hid the-the light of my soiled pants. No. No. I meant, spoiled passion.”

“Ugh, stop trying to be so pretentious.” “Why is he even here?” “Do you even know what real art is?”

“I’m sorry, I can do this. Just give me a second.” He began scrolling through the lines on his notebook in a hurry.

“Boo!” “Go home.” “Boy, that gap spreading wider than Kim Kardashian’s thighs at the BET awards”

“Ok, well that’s just rude,” he spoke back up. Unfortunately, he had lost all control of the crowd.

“Get a real artist up there!” “You suck.” “Ole goofy-ass-looking motha fucka” “I’m vegan!”

“That’s not even relevant ma’am. Can I just finish my—” He looked over to see the manager waving him off the stage. “If you just let me finish, I swear I got it now.”

The manager was all out of patience, he looked over at a burly lumberjack of a man and signaled him over to the stage. The man had a thick dark beard with a luscious man bun to match, he had on a cotton flannel with nothing under it but his curling chest hair, and a pair of DIY Casey Neistat sunglasses. The buffed out trender barreled his way up to the stage.

“Jesus Christ, where did you find 21st century Paul Bunyan?” The bouncer remained unfazed by the joke and continued marching forward. “Www.lumberbros.com? Or do they have a page on twitter? Ok-ok! I’m leaving.”

The crowd snapped their fingers and starting cheering as the boy fled the stage and made his exit from the café. The manager rushed on stage to try to soothe the crowd.

“I think we’re going to cut the blind readings short today and skip right to meditative documentary hour. Tonight we have a student film called Society’s Shackle on the Areola of my Soul. Jeff, you got the projector?” 

-----------------------------------Scene 1 cuts-----------------------------------------------------

                                           Working Title

                                  Ep1: Let’s Just call it the pilot

“No Mom, it just didn’t go well. I wasn’t drunk this time Mom. I’ve never even heard of that drug Mom. Yeah, no, I’m still searching but you know how it is; companies are just really selective these days. Don’t worry I’m still sending out resumes. Ma, I gotta go now. Yeah I’ll keep you updated. Love you. Bye.”

He pulled into the parking spot and took the keys out of the ignition. He laid his head back on the seat and looked up into the reflection of his eyes in the mirror. There wasn’t much inspiration in the image, but inspiration wasn’t exactly something Aaron was glowing with these days. He mustered what motivation he could then grabbed his backpack and exited the car.

Outside, in the parking spot next to his, sat an old Buick blasting aggressively loud rock music. The blue time capsule of a car had rusted door handles and two of the windows were either made out of tape or cardboard, the other two were completely rolled down—or completely missing. The inside of the car was filled with clothes, blankets, trash, and bags of untouched hamburger buns. Nobody appeared to be inside though, but as Aaron began walking by, a naked banshee came shooting up from the backseat like a horrifying popup book.

“Ahhhhyiii!!!” The dreadlocked rock star screamed as he rocked out on his invisible guitar. Aaron almost shit his pants when the bum appeared out of nowhere. But the man paid no attention to Aaron, he was in the middle of an intense jam session and channeling the ghost of mosh-pit’s past. Nothing could break this rockbum out of his intense trance. For Aaron, it was just horrifying to see that much exposed skin making the much motion. The homeless guitarist kept jamming on, screaming and squirming like he was in the middle of an ACDC exorcism. Aaron made sure to triple lock his car as he continued along his way.

The shady nature of the parking lot only continued as he traveled further through it. He passed by two more cars that seemed to be doubling as homes for the residents. In one car, a man laid passed out on the steering wheel with about twelve different brands of empty beer cans on the dash. His tire still had a tire clamp on it that belonged to the city, and his front door had a bike lock on the handle. The other car had an entire bon fire burning inside it with about five other glaring homeless men huddled around it.

“What the hell… does this parking lot double as a trailer park?” he asked himself.

He felt calmer as he reached the safety of his destination. Nothing bad ever happens in the public library right?

“Sir, we’re going to need you to take the other entrance.” Immediately upon pushing through the glass doors, Aaron was met by a stubby police officer blocking the metal detectors that led into the thick of the library.

“What?” Aaron peaked around the officer to notice a section of the library blocked off by rolls of caution tape. Behind the tape were blood stains and broken needles with books and torn up papers scattered everywhere.

“We’re in the middle of an investigation here kid.”

“Jesus, did this happen last night?” he asked.

“No, of course not. This happened a week ago, can’t you smell the feces beginning to ferment?”

“Where is there feces?” Aaron’s curiosity was turning into concern.

“Just take in a whiff,” the officer began scooping the air under his nose with his hands, “C’mon kid, do it with me.”

“Can’t I just go around the tape, I really don’t want to have to walk to the back.”

“No kid! We can’t have no one messing up the crime scene, alright??”  

“But there’s a homeless guy taking a piss on the copier machine right now?”

The cop turned around and there it was, a hairy man covered in dirty sweaters and blankets whistling to the tune of Rihanna’s Bitch Better Have my Money, as he took a wiz on the copier machine placed in the corner of the crime scene.

“Oh shit,” the cop gasped and ran into the crime scene reaching for his weapon, “Jim! another one came back to life.”

“He wasn’t even breathing a couple of minutes ago!” Jim yelled in response.

“He’s got a weapon!” the chubby officer screamed.

Aaron stood there and watched for a moment. The weapon the officer was referring to was the homeless man’s exposed pecker just flopped out of his open fly. He thought about speaking up, but then the fermenting feces finally hit his nostrils, and was doing so with a flaming rage. So he decided the fresh air of the backway would be healthy for him. A flurry of gunshots and screams sounded off as he returned to the parking lot.

After trekking back through the deadlands of the parking lot, only having been offered drugs twice, he was finally in the library again, crime-scene free--or at least caution tape free. The surrounding settings were still just as grisly as before. All of the books looked like they were donated by pyromaniacs after losing their house to a mysteriously caused wildfire. Aaron took his finger and ran it down the lines of books, watching as ashes and debris scraped off of them. He tried picking up a few, mostly because he just wanted to know what section he was in. In one aisle he saw Fear in Loathing in Las Vegas, by Hunter S. Thompson, pressed against a 19th century edition of the Bible, authored by “Cheesus H. Chrisp.” The Bible was the one book still in decent condition so he decided to pick it up. A bag of weed fell out. When it hit the ground a crusty old hand reached out from under the shelf and pulled the bag of weed back with it. Perhaps exploring the bookshelves wasn’t the best idea.

“Excuse me, could you direct me to a section with open outlets?”

“Sir, you can’t come into the library to charge your phone.” He could have been charging his phone right on her desk, she wouldn’t have known. Her eyes didn’t even consider looking up at him, they remained planted on her cosmopolitan magazine as she took two seconds to scroll through all the pictures before flipping to the next page.

“Oh no, it’s just my laptop needs to be charging while I’m using it so…”

“We have computers in the children’s section.” Without shifting her gaze, she took her index finger and pointed behind him. In the children’s section were two raccoons chewing on stuffed animals and one bug eyed man sitting in the computer section, aggressively playing a game of whacking-the-mole-off in his pants.

“I think that guy’s masturbating?”

“If you have a complaint, put it in the complaint box.”

At first he assumed she was joking, but her unbreakable case of bitch-face told him otherwise. He decided writing a complaint was the right thing to do, thinking he should try to be a part of the solution and be a facilitator of justice, as many Yelp users might also describe themselves. But upon further observation he realized the complaint box didn’t exist anywhere close by, and though he was scared to probe onward, he kept on reaching his foot into the mouth of the dragon.

“Well… where’s the complaint box?”

“It was stolen like a month ago, someone thought it was the tip jar.”

“Right, of course. Well you’ve been a great help thank you.”

“The soup kitchen opens at 9 on Thursday’s sir.” She would remain lost in the wonders of her literature as Aaron walked away.

Somewhere in a flickering corner of the library, Aaron was able to find his beloved open outlet—the sweet nectar of any library setting. But he quickly became disappointed in himself for actually thinking that something would go right in this desolate junk yard posing as a library. The outlet was dangling about six inches out of the wall, wires exposed and ripped, with sparks shooting out every now and then to the cadence of the flickering lights. Sitting on the desk above, or more so laid out on the desk above, was an inebriated man planted face first into a book titled 7 Weeks to Safe Social Drinking (by Donna J. Cornett (and available for 1.99 at Barnes & Noble). Sprawled out along the desk next to him were about 6 half-empty beers pouring out down the edge of the desk and dripping onto the exposed wires of the outlet. An optimists might have looked at this scene and said “Looks, like we’re about 3 beers into a good time.” A pessimists would have said “Grab a fork and let’s play ‘Shank-the-Power-Outlet.” Aaron just wanted to get some work done, and was forced to make the best out of his situation.

It was hard to focus on the work in front of him. Perhaps it was his lack of motivation; or maybe it was the notion that nothing he wrote seemed to be as magnificent as it sounded in his head; it could have been due to his persistent hobby of shredding apart any and all ounces of self-confidence; or it could have just been his laptop repeatedly dying every time the power flickered off. After taking five minutes to get his laptop up and running again he would only be able to get in but just a few words before it died out—and that’s if he really focused. Maybe it was a sign, or a metaphor telling him that no matter how hard he tried, his dreams would always die out in the end. Or maybe he should have just let Geek Squad take his computer for a week to figure out the issue with the charger port.

But in all that dark hopeless struggle to get his life together, something peculiar happened, something that suddenly breathed life into the room.

It was a series of sounds that all came one after the other in a rapid furry. Just three quick claps of air. A drum solo of fumes. An orchestra of asscoustics. A pattering parade of poots. The not so silent, but deadly chemical warfare fired out of a machine gun of a sphincter. And there were no questions about where the rumpus originated from. At the very next table, across from Aaron, sat the only other (conscious) resident in this section of the library. Slowly, Aaron turned his head in disgust, almost in disbelief, at what he had just heard--and was now beginning to smell. When he had finished turning his head his eyes met with the petrified gaze of the assailant. This man appeared as if he knew nothing about the world other than fear, and with the two sets of eyes locked, the mortified gas leaker stoop up--

“And just walked away.”

“You’re joking…”

“I shit you not.”

“What lovely phrasing.”

“He let it out like a bomb and just got up, looked me in my eyes, and walked away. As if we had just made a silent oath to secrecy of the horrific event that had just taken place.”

“But like, why?” She laughed.

“I was too busy cherishing the remaining moments I had left with non-polluted air to get up and ask him.”

“Uhg!” She groaned in sarcasm.

“Sorry, I forgot you’re writing that novella on why people fart in public places.”

“How could you?”

“I’m sorry, I know I failed you.”

A sneaky smile slowly slurred onto their faces and neither of the two could continue their serious fronts. They backed down and returned to their laughter.

“I seriously can’t believe that happened” she added.

“Really? After telling you ALLL of that, the one thing you can’t believe is some dude farting like he had pop rocks stuck up his ass?”

“Well yeah,” she chuckled as she continued reading through her textbook. “I don’t know what you expected, that’s why you don’t go to public libraries in south city.”

“I just wanted somewhere quiet to write.”

“I don’t know why you’re so against this library all of a sudden. It’s like the second nicest library in the whole city. And its homeless person free,” she paused for a moment, “well… except for that Moroccan lady who comes in here with those five kids at midnight. I don’t know what her deal is. And why are the kids always different?”

“I’m just tired of this place. It’s been four months since I graduated, I’m tired of having to look at this school and fight some freshmen for a parking spot, just to come back and find my car window bashed in.”

“Actually the window bashing has died down since you graduated. Hmm, wonder if that’s a coincidence?”

“With the way my life’s going, window bashing would be a step up.”

“Maybe you just need to get out of your own head and stop whining like a little bitch all the time.”

“Maybe the problem is my most supportive friend calls me a whiney bitch all the time.”

“Not all the time, just on Monday’s, and Tuesdays after 1:30, and occasionally Thursday through Sunday… oh. And anytime you start whining like a little bitch.”

“Such a great support system…”

“Well if you don’t like it, why don’t you go make some other friends?”

“I think you’re supposed to make all your friends while you’re in college. I kind of missed that deadline.”

“Well I’m so sorry for your loss, but some of us still have time to try get the best out of our college experience. So I’m going to finish studying somewhere that I can actually focus, that way I can go to that Frat party tonight, ok?”

“Oh, like the Frat with all the guys in it?” She laughed at his response, but it felt more like she was laughing at him.

“You’re cute when you get jealous. But only Sometimes… I’ll talk to you later.” She scooted out of her seat and began to get up but not before Aaron puckered his lips and tried pressing them on her’s. Evie responded with the classic face of disgust fully equipped with a one-way ticket back to the Friend Zone. “Ew! What are you doing?”

“It’s just a kiss? We’ve done more than that?”

“Not in public. Ugh.”

“Sorry I just thought…”

“Come pick me up at like 2am ok? And bring a condom, I forgot to take the pill like all weekend.”

“Ok, yeah, sure.”

“And look,” suddenly her voice evolved into a rare tone of concern, “don’t be so down on yourself. You’re just in one of those identity slumps right now, but that’s all it is: a slump. Ok? You just need a hobby or something to do. You should go check that student bulletin board in the basement.”

“Student bulletin board?”

“Yeah, didn’t you go here for like four years? You should know about the bulletin board.”

“I never went in the basement, there was always too much studying going on to focus.”

“Well it’s just a place for students to place fliers for their clubs and other social events. And I really think you need some socializing.”

“I mean I guess we can talk about me like I’m some rescue dog with a shady past.” She giggled at him again.

“Don’t take things so personally, just go check it out. You never know what opportunity may present itself, right? I’ll text you. Byiiiiii.”

“Byiii” he mocked her squeaky voice. She threw her middle finger in the air as she walked away.

---------------------------------------Scene 2 cuts-------------------------------------------------

His migration down to the basement felt like the walk of shame. With every flight of stairs he descended upon he could hear Evelyn calling him a whining bitch, although there was a chance he was mistaking the voice for that of his 7th grade gym teacher—who also taught arts & crafts to the 1st graders. F***ing Ms. Heinbaugh. His mind continued playing tricks on him and preying on his doubts. He thought that actually going over to the bulletin board would be an admittance of defeat, like he was conceding to the fact that he needed to socialize more. It felt as if she was just going to be waiting there with a big sign that read: WHAT A LOSER. He wouldn’t put it past her.

“Socialize…” his thoughts began groaning, “I don’t need to socialize. Everyone else just needs to stop being so damn annoying. ... Dammit. I do sound like a whiny bitch.”

But at the end of the dimly lit hallway would be no humiliating ‘gotcha’ poster or moment of ridicule. At the very end of the hall, one light shined brighter than all the rest, and right beneath it, hung the infamous bulletin board. He walked up to it for further examination where he was instantly overwhelmed by a burst of colorful papers. It was like a fireworks show made from dead trees.

Each flier pertained to some kind of club that sounded just as colorful as the paper it was on.

GFSTAA: Gender Fluid Sex Toy Advocates of America—important, but not up Aaron’s alley. Vegan Baking Club—Aaron wasn’t aware they allowed torture tactics to be practiced on campus. Sonic the Hedgehog Fanfiction Book Club—not quite Aaron’s taste of literature. How to Draw Sonic the Hedgehog Fanfiction—not quite Aaron’s taste of hentai either.

But, buried beneath all the madness, was one flier barely reaching out beyond the layers of tabloids, like a hand reaching out from its grave. All he could see was the corner of a white paper with the image of a feathered pen on it. He plucked the paper from its flamboyant grave and began reading.

“Calling all creatives! Do you consider yourself a creative person? Do you feel like your vision and voice have more to offer the world? Then why not put your talents to use and come join a small startup digital media company that can help you fulfill your truest potential! We need people at every position, we need fellow filmmakers, editors, actors, crew members, and we’re always on the lookout for brilliant wordsmiths!”

The flier had images of camera lenses, quills, and stars sprinkled all over it. It was like Aaron was staring into the eye of an oracle. He had never considered himself a filmmaker, but he didn’t mind the sound of it. The meet date posted on the flier hadn’t passed yet either, so he still had time to get in on the action. Aaron had heard the call, and he was ready to answer.

“Yes!” he began to himself. “I’m ready to fulfill my truest po—” Someone came marching down the hall and Aaron went dead silent like a possum. The student walked straight up to the bulletin board so he tried playing it cool like he was still analyzing all the fliers. The student pulled out a flier of their own and aggressively stapled it to the board, and then they stomped away in frustration. The flier read:

“PETITION TO END ALL SPIDERMAN REBOOTS!”

Aaron signed his name under the first slot and walked away.

----------------------------------------------FIN--------------------------------------------------------