#and because it's combined so well with mike (and has some of henry's memories). it is now also mildly obsessed with will | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

princesstadashi · 5 years

Text

Big Hero 6/OUAT AU

Okay guys--so I worked this whole big AU up in my head while I was at work today, inspired by @honeyxmonkey ‘s Tangled the series OUAT AU and @greensword101 ‘s accompanying ask to me about Fred finding Hiro and giving him a hug once the curse was broken! Now, sadly I think I accidentally left my page of notes at work, or else they’re just lost somewhere in my bag, but I’m going to type of everything that I remember and hope for the best--here we go!

Backstory of how everyone got dragged into the curse: So I’m not even going to try to go into weird multi-versey type shit and try to be detailed with this but what you need to know is that Fred/Tadashi and Honey Lemon/Gogo are the main ships here, and Fred’s mom/Gogo’s parents are not happy about this, like at all. I have this headcanon that Gogo’s parents, while not as wealthy as Fred’s parents, are pretty well off (business owners? doctors? I’ll leave it up to your imagination) and are not at all happy with Gogo’s lifestyle choices/were probably emotionally and psychologically if not physically abusive to her, which is why as soon as she could she ran away to live with Honey Lemon’s family, and she and Honey Lemon eventually got together. Definitely not the match her parents wanted for her and they’re still mad that she wasn’t this perfect feminine daughter that they wanted. Fred’s mom is kind of the same way but mostly she’s just homophobic as shit and also wanted to marry Fred off to some rich girl like her and Fred’s dad’s parents did to the two of them. When it came down to choosing, Fred’s dad chose his son over her and divorced her, so she’s pissed because of that.

Moving forward before this gets too long: Long story short, Gogo’s parents and Fred’s mom kind of knew each other from moving in the same social circles and when they somehow find out about the curse (which wasn’t going to hit most of San Fransokyo, if at all) they either go to Regina or (more likely) Rumpelstiltskin and make a deal so that they can get not only themselves and their families pulled into this other world where they can have the lives that they wanted, but also pull in the friends and other people who encouraged Gogo and Fred to be themselves and “punish” them for what they did.

Characters Involved and Their Lives After the Curse:

Fred (new name: George): Engaged to Gogo (a match set up by his mom and Gogo’s parents), his dad in the cursed world doesn’t even fight his mom on things so he had no one to teach him to fight for himself and so he’s just sort of letting life get away from him and hiding in his fantasy stories and comics to escape reality.

Gogo (Edith): Engaged to Fred, never actually rebelled and never ran away from home so while she’s still got her fighting spirit on the inside it’s mostly been stamped out and she spends her days going to social events she hates and acting like she’s the perfect daughter she isn’t.

Honey Lemon (Heather): Works in an overly busy dress shop trying to earn money for college but is so underpaid she barely makes rent, let alone being able to save anything. She does all the tailoring on Gogo’s dresses and other clothes, including working on the wedding dress (which Gogo’s mom is never happy with, she’s probably made fifty dresses by now.) She and Gogo are secretly having a bit of a relationship (fitting rooms = closed doors and privacy with limited clothes for at least a short period of time) but no one can know. (More on the relationship below.)

Wasabi (Darnell): Honey Lemon’s roommate. Also trying to earn money for college (also failing at it), he works cleaning Fred’s family’s house--he’s great at the job because he’s so detail and cleanliness oriented, but he hates being around any germs, and the biggest part of the curse for him is having to clean Fred’s room.

Hiro (Nico): Hiro is a foster kid being “raised” by a horrible man named Montel (a.k.a. Yama) who forces Hiro into stealing things for him to “pay his keep” (and Hiro has the scars to show what happens if he disappoints him.)

Aunt Cass (Rachel): Works as the cook of Fred’s family, Fred’s mother delights in ordering her to make ridiculously elaborate and detailed meals, whether they have company or not, and then criticizing every part of them. Rachel would probably leave except she has a young son, Max, to look after and she can’t afford losing a job and having him taken away from her. (Red herring name alert: Max is actually a human version of Mochi, but if I ever turn this into an actual story it will be fun to throw people a bit off the trail! Also the reason Fred’s mom pulled Aunt Cass into this is because she felt Aunt Cass encouraged Tadashi and Fred to get together, being bi herself, and so she has an especial and very misplaced hatred for her.)

Tadashi (Shiro): Tadashi was found on the outskirts of town unconscious and covered in horrific burn scars. No one new his name except a few letters on a very decayed medical alert bracelet that looked a bit like Shiro (Tadashi Hamada--the “H” and “a” were pretty smeared kind of looked like “r” and “o”, the rest were completely illegible, so they guessed a bit on his name.) He was put in the hospital and put into a medically induced coma while he continued healing. When Emma came to town and time started moving again, Tadashi recovered enough for them to wake him up, but he has no memory of who he was or who his family was, and as his burns were still very severe and had gotten infected he’s still in the hospital for a very long time. (Explanation for Tadashi being alive: back in BH 6 world Fred’s dad, being a superhero, rescued Tadashi but since Tadashi was in such bad condition was still trying to get him back to being stable before letting anyone know that he was alive in case he didn’t make it. Fred’s mom did not count on this being a factor when she made the deal!)

Baymax (Mike): Baymax is a nurse in the hospital where Tadashi is being kept--in Once Upon a Time fashion, he did become human once in our world (I imagine his appearance being a lot like Aziraphale’s, only his irises are dark brown/almost black.) Another glitch in the curse (this time a literal one): even though Baymax’s memories were changed/rewritten for the curse, as a robot his system had backup storage for his memories. Robot brain being combined with a human brain was not quite compatible, so Baymax still talks/moves a bit like a robot which means a lot of people make fun of him for that, but more importantly, while he doesn’t remember everything, Baymax does have flashes of memories from the other world, and somewhat remembers being a robot. Of course anyone he tries to explain this to acts like he’s crazy so he’s learned to keep it to himself, but needless to say he feels a very strong connection to his patient, Shiro (who he at least on some level realizes is probably Tadashi), and is very, very protective of him.

(This started getting long so actual story development below the cut!)

Story Ideas:

-Fred and Gogo, while resigned to their eventual marriage,are still both incredibly gay in spite of being forced into the closet, so their general secret arrangement is that they’ll be married for their parents’ sake but both are free to privately have lovers or partners (as long as their parents don’t find out about it.) Gogo’s first choice, of course, is Honey Lemon. Honey Lemon is totally in love with Gogo, but she’s torn as to whether she’d truly be happy spending her life as someone’s mistress and not truly married to someone she loves.

-Fred and Hiro meet for the first time when Fred catches Hiro breaking into his room, having been sent by Yama to loot the house. Fred almost calls security, but he sees how skinny Hiro is and how beat up he is and takes pity on him. He wants to call CPS but Hiro begs him not to, afraid of being sent to an even worse home (he has curse memories of being in even worse homes to keep him from ever leaving Yama.) Fred would gladly try to take Hiro in himself but he’s too afraid of what his mother would say. So instead he and Hiro make a deal--any time that Hiro wants to, he can come by the house, and Fred will provide him with money or whatever else he needs to take back to Yama to avoid getting in trouble, and then Hiro gets to secretly spend a few hours with Fred, playing video games, reading comics, doing all the fun kid stuff he never gets to do at home--and of course Aunt Cass makes it her mission to make sure that Hiro always gets at least one good meal while he’s there, even though she doesn’t understand why it hurts so much to see this teenager she doesn’t even know leave to go back to his foster home.

-Hiro and Baymax meet when Hiro’s class goes to the hospital to help decorate it for the patients (remember when Henry went and met “John Doe”? Same visit, even though Hiro is of course in a different, older class and also probably in a different wing of the hospital.) Baymax sees Hiro and, with his glitchy memories of the other world, remembers Hiro, but unfortunately Hiro is only freaked out by this stranger calling him Hiro (”My name is Niko!”) and acting like he knows him. Finally Baymax has to give up on that. Still, he “conveniently” sends Hiro to decorate the room of a sleeping patient in the burn unit. Hiro is grumbling about how stupid all of this is, how decorating a room won’t really help anyone, when he hears a voice saying, “No act of kindness, no matter how small, is a waste.” He turns around to realize that the sleeping patient has woken up.

The patient introduces himself as Shiro, and even though Hiro feels weird talking to this guy who’s mostly covered in bandages, somehow they end up talking all the same, and Hiro finds himself spilling his whole life story to Shiro, who turns out to be a great listener. When Hiro’s teacher tells him it’s time to leave, Hiro finds he actually doesn’t want to go! But Tadashi asks him to wait for a moment, and then pulls a small bag of gummy bears out from a bag by his bed, saying, “Here. My nurse brought these for me and I was saving them for later, but I think you need them more than me.” Which almost makes Hiro cry because he loves gummy bears but he can’t even remember the last time that he had them. (A.K.A. Hasn’t had them since being sent here by the curse.) He promises to come back to visit Tadashi as soon as he can, and he makes good on that promise. He and Tadashi can’t do a lot for each other, but they always find ways to do small things, like how Tadashi will always save the desserts from his meals to share with (or more often give to) Hiro, and Hiro will check out books from the library that he thinks Tadashi would like and reads to him. “No act of kindness, no matter how small, is a waste” becomes their motto.

-Hiro, spending time with both Fred and Tadashi, and having started seeing both of them as older brother/almost dad figures, plus eventually finding out that they’re both gay, starts dreaming of a life where Tadashi heals enough to leave the hospital, then meets and gets together with Fred, and the two of them adopt Hiro and they all live their happily ever after together. Hiro never manages to get Fred to physically come to the hospital with him, but somehow convinces him to become pen pals with a “lonely guy with no family or loved ones to look after him (he totally pulls out the puppy dog eyes guilt trip) and somehow despite anyone’s best efforts to keep it from happening, Tadashi and Fred start to fall in love all over again :)

The Curse Breaks (a,k.a. the one part of the story I actually wrote):

Hiro races towards the center of town, running as fast as he possibly could. He’d through that Montel was evil--he’d never imagined that things could possibly get worse, but when Yama’s memories had returned Hiro was pretty sure it was only the delayed shock of getting all his memories back at once that had let Hiro get away with little more than a bloody nose (and his life.) Hiro had no idea what the hell was happening--how he was here, in some town called Storybrooke and not in San Fransokyo, and how he had these two completely different lives and memories living in his head and currently at war with each other--but all he really knew is that he needed to get somewhere safe. Somewhere that Yama couldn’t find him and hurt him.

“Hiro!” Hiro almost kept running when he heard someone shouting his name, too terrified of Yama catching up with him if he stopped, but then he suddenly felt arms wrapping around him and, after a moment of struggling, he realizes that he knew the person holding him.

“F-Fred?” Hiro gasps, looking up at the older man.

“Yeah, Hiro--it’s me,” Fred answers, a look of relief in his eyes as he smiles down at Hiro.

“Y-You remember?” Hiro cries, glad that this was at least some sort of proof that he hadn’t gone completely crazy.

“Of course I do.” Fred hugs him tighter. “I-I’m so glad that you remember too, I was afraid that you might not--”

“No, I remember.” Hiro shakes his head before adding with a shiver, “A-And Yama does too...”

“Yama?” Fred repeats only to gasp after a moment. “Holy shit! I-Is that who you’ve been living with this whole time?”

“I think the answer is obvious,” Hiro answers, pulling away and gesturing to his bloody nose.

“Oh my God.... Oh my God, Hiro I am so, so sorry,” Fred whispers, his voice full of horror. “I can’t believe-- I-I should have gotten you out of there a long, long time ago, but the curse...”

“Curse?” Hiro repeats in confusion. “What curse?”

“Apparently that’s what’s gotten us all here--a curse that took us from home and put us here, and gave us fake memories and made sure that we’d all be as miserable as possible. And it’s not just people from San Fransokyo, you won’t even believe who some of the people living in this town really are...” Fred answers before adding quickly, “But I can explain more on the way--all of our family and friends are back at my house, apparently my mom and Gogo’s parents have something to do with all of us getting wrapped up in this.”

“So everyone’s there?” Hiro asks hopefully. “Aunt Cass, Wasabi, Honey Lemon?” He’d have asked about Gogo too but Fred had already mentioned her so he could only assume that she was.

“Yes, everyone--even Mochi, can you believe that he’s actually Max?” Fred laughs.

“Whoa... That is pretty crazy,” Hiro says, shaking his head, trying to wrap his head around the idea that Aunt Cass’ cat had somehow become a human child.

It was as he was thinking this over that another thought occurred to him.

“Wait, Max...” he says slowly, and then gasps as the realization fully hits him. “Holy fuck, Baymax!”

“Hiro, I-I’m sorry, I don’t know where Baymax is yet, everyone coming out of the curse has everyone pretty scrambled up...” Fred starts to say apologetically, but Hiro cuts him off.

“No! I mean, I think I know where Baymax is!” Hiro cries, tugging on Fred’s hand. “C’mon, we have to go get him!”

“...The others can wait,” Fred after agrees after only a moment’s hesitation. “Let’s go get Baymax!”

A few minutes later, both of them rush into the hospital--things were in such a disarray that they didn’t even bother to stop at the nurse’s desk, Hiro leading the way up the stairs to the burn unit where he hoped that he’d find...

“Baymax!” Hiro lets out a huge sigh of relief when he sees the man in his standard white scrubs--it was still incredibly weird to think of the marshmallow-esque robot that Tadashi had made was somehow human, but all that really mattered that he was here and that he was safe.

“Hiro!” The man turns to Hiro, a bright smile on his face, quickly putting to rest any fears that Hiro might have had that this wasn’t actually Baymax.

“Wait, that’s Baymax?” Fred cries in surprise.

“Fred, hello!” Baymax answers cheerfully, waving to him.

“I... Uh... Hi?” Fred waves a bit awkwardly.

“I’m so glad that you’re okay,” Hiro says gratefully, hurrying into Baymax’s open arms and giving him a tight hug.

“I am very well, thank you,” Baymax answers, hugging him back, before letting him go and continuing, “There is someone else here who would like to see you!”

“Someone else?” Hiro repeats in confusion. Who else could be here that he knew?

“Hiro!”

That’s when Hiro hears a voice--a voice that, even before the curse, he’d given up on ever hearing again. No. No, it couldn’t possibly be--!

That’s when he sees Shiro, sitting in a wheelchair next to his hospital bed--the burn scars had greatly changed his appearance, it was true, and his hair was a bit longer than it had been before. But there was no mistaking those eyes, or that smile.

“T-Tadashi?” Hiro whispers, tears welling up in his eyes before he could even fully process what was happening. “I-Is it really you?”

“It’s me,” Tadashi answers, looking a bit teary eyed himself, and, without even thinking about the consequences, Hiro launches himself at Tadashi, landing in his lap and wrapping his arms tightly around him, never wanting to let him go, only to find his hands wandering over Tadashi’s features--his arms, his hands, his face--trying to prove to himself that this was real, that Tadashi was really here with him. Tadashi was doing much the same, half laughing, half crying, stroking Hiro’s hair and kissing away the tears as they fell down his cheeks.

“H-How?” Hiro whispers. “How are you here? “

“I don’t know,” Tadashi admits, shaking his head.”I-I don’t remember anything that happened to me after the fire... But I’m here, and I’m with you, and that’s all that matters.”

Hiro decides that questions can wait for later--all that mattered was that he had Tadashi back.

“D-Dashi?”

Hiro suddenly remembers that he wasn’t the only one here who had a very good reason to be glad that Tadashi was alive.

“Fred?” Tadashi cries, looking up at Fred with what could only be described as joy in his eyes, and Hiro wisely chooses to move out of the way just in time to avoid being caught in the middle as Fred pulls Tadashi into a deep, passionate kiss. Maybe back in San Fransokyo his old self would have found this gross or made a joke out of it. But not anymore. This was something he’d been trying to get to happen for months, and it felt like his dream was finally coming true. Shiro and George--no, Fred and Tadashi!--were finally a couple, and maybe with this stupid curse gone, they could get married and adopt him so he could finally be away from Yama!

But wait. No, that wasn’t right! Hiro shakes his head. That was Niko’s dream, when he was stuck here, not Hiro’s dream! Hiro never would have dreamed of his older brother and his brother’s best friend getting married and adopting him! ...Would he have? More to the point, though: if a curse had somehow sent them here (and he couldn’t think of a more logical explanation at the moment), and it had indeed been broken--shouldn’t they be back in San Fransokyo? Shouldn’t they have gone back home?

Hiro feels a cold shiver pass through him. What exactly was going on here? And who would have the answers?

“I have heard that there is a relief center being set up for those who are trying to find loved ones or who have questions about the curse,” Baymax pipes up, in the uncanny way that he had of almost reading Hiro’s thoughts.

“Well, that sounds exactly like that place we should go,” Tadashi says, turning towards them, with Fred’s hand firmly wrapped around his own.

“It does--maybe then we can bring some more information back to the others,” Fred agrees.

“Dashi, is it okay for you to leave the hospital, though?” Hiro asks a bit worriedly--he knew that Tadashi had been recovering, but he hadn’t left the hospital since being here!

“I can come with to monitor his condition,” Baymax offers.

“That would be great, thank you, Baymax.” Tadashi grins up at the other man.

“You are welcome!” Baymax replies, looking pleased to be of assistance.

“Well... If Baymax is coming with us, then I guess it should be okay,” Hiro finally relents.

“So, are we ready to go?” Tadashi asks, looking first to Fred and then to Hiro.

“Yeah,” Hiro agrees, taking Tadashi’s free hand as Fred continues to hold the other and Baymax begins pushing the chair forward. “I think we are.”

As long as he had his family and friends by his side, he was ready for whatever the future had in store for them.

((Random future story bit: The group running into Yama and Baymax giving him a good punch in the nose since Tadashi can’t stand to do it himself. “I no longer have programming, so I am no longer prevented from injuring a human being :)” (Protective Baymax is SCARY AF and also totally awesome!)))

#big hero 6 #once upon a time #ouat #big hero 6/ouat crossover #big hero 6/once upon a time crossover #fredashi #honeygogo

23 notes · View notes

the-metal-reaper · 5 years

Text

An Eye for an Eye - Chapter 5

Well, here’s the final chapter of An Eye for an Eye! I loved experimenting with a different setup for this tale, placing it outside of one of the games. It’s been a lot of fun!

did i cry while writing this? yes. a lot. i love my kiddos, sue me.

---

Those eyes. She had seen them far more times than any person should. She had seen them on Michael, while he stood paralyzed in front of those nightmare-fueled steel monstrosities. Charlie had seen them on herself in the reflection of the rain-soaked glass of the window looking into Fazbear’s Family Diner, with the silhouette of her killer behind her. She had even seen them on her own father, as he stared into the emotionless eyes of Charlie’s former suit. And yesterday, she saw them on William as he stared at her through the mask of the Spring Bonnie suit just before the springlocks thrust themselves into his skin, shoving jagged mechanical parts right into his ribcage. Even when she shuts her eyelids as tight as she can, and feels her tears dripping down her face, those eyes still haunt her. They’re burned into her retinas.

Charlie hates this, hates that she’s crying, and hates herself most of all. Why was she so easily convinced to kill? Charlie was supposed to be the protector of lost souls, and yet she had created more. She was no better than William.

She looks up at Michael, who’s sitting next to her, facing the television. Neither of them had gotten much sleep. A rerun of an old soap opera, one that Michael had watched religiously in his youth, plays on the set, but neither of them are really watching it.

Michael wraps an arm around Charlie’s shoulder and pulls her closer. He runs his gloved fingers through her short brown locks and smiles a little to himself. He had almost forgotten what satisfaction and contentment felt like, but now it flowed through him like blood. His mission was complete.

On his side, he feels something cool. He looks down at Charlie, eyebrows quirking up with worry, and sees her tears. All at once, his peace drains to gnawing anxiety.

“Hey,” Michael smiles down at Charlie, who wipes her tears with a damp sleeve before meeting his gaze. “What do you say we… go stop by Fazbears? Say hi to your dad?”

Blood rushes to Charlie’s ears. She can barely hear Michael over the sound of her racing heartbeat, and she struggles to keep her face calm. The simple thought of that place is barely tolerable without her consciousness getting hijacked by images of the horrific monstrosities Charlie had committed the night before. But she needed to stay positive. She had to.

If she didn’t have her cheer, what did she have?

“Sure,” Charlie smiles for the first time that day. Michael smiles back, relieved.

They hop into the car, and Michael skids down the street, almost jumping the curb. Charlie hangs onto the seat behind her for dear life.

She laughs, “Why the heck are you driving so fast?!”

“Because,” Michael blows past the ‘Speed Limit: 20 mph’ street sign at 60, “it’s fun.”

Leaving dark tracks behind it, the purple Oldsmobile screeches to a halt in front of Fazbear’s glistening glass doors. The sun has just barely passed the horizon, so Michael’s face is cast in shadow as he lightly taps on the front door to the Pizzaria. No response. The main room, which is visible through the slightly frosted glass, is silent and dark. It may have been early, but Henry should’ve been there. He managed the place.

Charlie sees Michael’s confusion and concern. “Hey, I can unlock the door if we need.”

“That sounds good.”

With a nod, Charlie pushes herself through the glass and clicks the lock open. She goes deeper into the restaurant, reaching for the light switch to turn on the lights, when she sees them.

Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, Foxy. Staring down at her from the stage with lifeless eyes. Eyes that had been filled with life by the Marionette, and emptied of it by the same hand.

Charlie hadn’t realized she was crying until she felt Michael’s hand on her shoulder.

“Let’s find your dad and get out of here,” he murmurs. The spirit wraps her arms around Michael in response. Together, they walk through the restaurant, while Charlie tilts her head away from the stage.

Michael sees a dim light from a doorway down the hall. He leads Charlie there, only to see a man slumped over at the manager’s desk, beer bottle in hand and tiny television screen illuminating his face.

Sighing, Michael reaches over the desk and shakes him awake. “Henry.”

Henry’s eyebrows quirk up in confusion, then he smiles with recognition. “Hey, guys.”

“Were you here all night?

“Uh, yeah,” He blinks, rubbing his eyes, “I was watching William.”

Gesturing towards the TV screen, Henry shows Michael and Charlie the camera footage of the door to the safe room, which has remained the same since they locked the door.

“So, how are you?” Henry smiles.

“Well…” Staring at the floor, Michael says, “We’re thinking about moving. Leaving Hurricane.”

“What? Why?”

“Too many memories. Ones that I’d rather not remember. And besides--” Michael turns to Charlie, then falls silent. She’s so dim that she’s barely visible, her face buried in Michael’s coat. He puts an arm around her shoulders.

“But you just got here!” To Michael’s surprise, Henry sounds almost angry. He rises to his feet and walks around the desk to stare Michael down. “You can’t leave Hurricane.”

“Henry. The only reason we were here was to deal with William.”

“‘Deal with him?!’ Let’s not tiptoe around this, Michael. You convinced literal children to murder him for you because you just didn’t want to do it.”

Michael practically spits, “I did what I had to. I saved your life, for God’s sake. You’re just a coward.”

“A coward? No, I just have a moral compass. On the other hand, you are exactly as your father described. Soulless.”

A blur of movement brushes past Henry and smashes into the desk behind him. Oak splinters under Michael’s curled fist, and he glares red-hot lasers through Henry’s eyes. “I’m done taking your shit, Miller. We’re leaving. That’s final.” Michael stuffs his shaking hands into his pocket to avoid attacking Henry.

“We? If you think you’re taking my daughter from me, you’re sadly mistaken.” Henry jabs his finger into Michael’s sunken chest, not even sparing a glance at Charlie, who has long since moved away from the argument in favor of hiding in the corner.

“I—” Turning away to look for Charlie, Michael slows. His red-hot anger is cooled by the pitiful sight of his best friend curled up on the floor, her normally fluorescent features faded with fear. “Listen, I’m not trying to make Charlie’s choices for her. She can choose whether or not to move with me.”

“You’re not pulling that, Michael. Let her choose, so that way you can pull your little voodoo magic and put her back under your spell like always. Lottie’s going to stay with me, her father.”

“‘Voodoo magic?’ You mean being her friend? That’s the thing, Henry, you don’t really care about Charlie. Not like she is now. You just want your Little Lottie back.”

“Of course I do! Your father may have taken her away from me, but you’re the one who’s corrupted her, who’s turned her into something she’s not. You’re the one who made her kill someone!”

Henry gasps in a few breaths of air, his finger wavering in the air in front of Michael’s eyes. He closes his hand into a fist, and rises to put his face in the empty air where his fist was.

“So tell me, who really killed Lottie?” Henry spits, “William, or you?”

The linoleum tiles crack under Michael’s heel as he shoves Henry back into the desk, sending the older man flying over the desk and into the wheeled chair behind him. Michael wheels around, pausing when he sees Charlie’s apparent absence from the room.

Facing the floor, he whispers, “I’m sorry I fucked everything up.”

Just as quickly as he ended the argument, Michael storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

“Asshole.” Henry growls at the closed door. Slowly, he pulls himself back to his feet, muttering yet more profanities as he does so.

He looks up at his daughter with an apologetic smile. Charlie stares back with a combination of anger and fear on her face as her cheeks sparkle with tears.

Pointing at the door, Charlie stammers out, “Listen, I-I’m gonna—”

“I meant what I said.” Henry busies himself by fiddling with his desk chair, trying to get the wheels to spin again. “I know he’s your friend, Lottie, but I just don’t think Michael is trustworthy.”

Charlie’s hands curl into fists, but the only words she can muster are, “Michael’s always there when I need him. An-and I can’t say the same for you.”

She flies through the door, barely even noting the unpleasant wave of nausea that hits her as she does. Before she can even so much as take a breath, Charlie’s in the dining room, staring up at the stage. A muffled sob escapes her lips as she stares into Fritz—Foxy’s— lifeless eyes. Charlie turns away, wanting desperately to look at anything else. As she finally regains a slice of her sense, Charlie briskly walks through the booth seats and out the front doors.

The evening sun cast long shadows across the road, obscuring most of Michael’s face. He sits on the curb, looking at some distant point in the horizon while his cigarette smoke swirls around him in a cloud, concealing his face further. Through the smoke Michael sees a familiar figure join him on the curb. They sit in silence for a moment.

“You’re not coming with me, are you,” Michael says quietly. The smoke disperses, and Charlie can see the resigned frown on Michael’s face.

Charlie’s eyebrows quirk up in horror. She bites her lip, choosing her words carefully. “I’m not sure if I ever talked about it much, but… my years as the Marionette were hell.”

Michael looks up quickly, confusion dancing across his face.

“I was so alone, Mike. My d—Henry stopped coming to the restaurant, you never went back, even William left. I was so… cold.” Tears begin to well in Charlie’s eyes once again, but she grits her teeth and blinks rapidly. She shouldn’t cry again. She can’t. “Gabe, Jeremy, Suzy, even Fritz were always angry. Not just at William, at the world too. And I let myself get angry too.” Charlie pulls Michael’s arm into her lap and rests her head on his shoulder. “But then you came along.” A smile dawns on her face. “You helped me remember who I was, Mike. Who I am now. I don’t think I ever thanked you for that. So, thank you.”

Michael pulls Charlie into a tight embrace, pushing her cheek up against his razor-like collarbone. His arms are shaking.

“That’s a no to staying, by the way.” Charlie laughs. Michael smiles gratefully as a response.

They sit in each other’s arms for a while, watching the golden sun light the horizon on fire as it sinks below.

Michael glances down at his companion. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” she frowns. “I guess I just thought he’d be different.”

“I’m sorry.”

Charlie looks up at him, catching his gaze. “Don’t be. I have you, Mike. You’re all I need.”

---

Thank you so much for reading!! I’ll be posting art again starting next week.

Previous | Where it all started

9 notes · View notes

adamwatchesmovies · 5 years

Text

The Worst of 2019 (So Far)

And now we get to the opposite of yesterday’s post: the worst of what we’ve seen so far. Time to give them a proper thrashing before they (hopefully) fade into obscurity. Disappointingly, there's a general lack of films that were bad but in an interesting way. Mostly, it’s either been the same sorta dreck we usually get with a couple of unusually offensive stories and a couple of soul-crushingly bad superhero flicks. Curious? Read on.

10. Serenity

I like to save my #10 spot on the “Worst of” list for a movie that has a chance of becoming a favorite among those who love bad movies. Serenity is competently enough made that it does not belong in the same category as The Identical or Runaway. It’s another kind of bad movie, the kind that baffles anyone who sees it and who will have film historians scratching their heads in the future. It’s not quite on the same level as 2017’s “The Book of Henry” but close. Top-notch actors at the top of their career in a story so poorly conceived it would’ve been brilliant if it weren’t awful and utterly absurd.

The revelation that everything we've been seeing is actually part of a video game programmed by an angry teen who hates his abusive father, and that his actions are tied to those of Matthew McConaughey's character is the kind of nutty decision someone at some point should've questioned. My advice? Surprise some unsuspecting friends with it. Periodically pause the movie so they can write down how they think it'll all fit together and then watch their faces as they're proved wrong.

9. After

I’m not going to remember After down the line so this is my opportunity to give it another flogging. I can’t believe fan-fictions of real people is a real thing and that one of them was deemed legitimate and popular enough to be turned into a movie. It plays out like the clone of a clone of a clone of Twilight. At least that movie had danger in the form of vampires and werewolves. This has nothing to offer except embarrassing drama and a prepubescent’s idea of what romance and love look like. I saw it in the theater with a friend and thank goodness she was there; it made what would've been a chore... slightly more bearable.

8. Dumbo

I’ve already gone on about how I feel about Disney’s string of live-action remakes. For the most part, they fail to validate their own existences; they’re just copies of the original but with “real” actors dancing around animated backgrounds, objects and locations instead of everything being traditionally animated. Dumbo isn’t like Aladdin and Beauty and the Beast. It does try new things. It diverges from the source material significantly in the worst way. The titular character winds up playing second banana to a bunch of circus performers no one cares about and in the end didn’t contain an inkling of the emotion the 1941 version did.

7. Dark Phoenix

This one’s a triple-whammy. Not only was it a deeply disappointing way for Fox’s X-Men series to end, it retreaded old material in a way that was worse than X-Men 3: The Last Stand AND it was a box office bomb. By the time the story finally comes alive… it’s just about over. The whole thing feels like a mistake, bringing in aliens and asking us to invest in characters we just haven’t had enough time to fall in love with. Makes me wonder what the future of the characters is going to be like. Yes there are a number of heroes and heroines we haven’t yet seen, but are people going to care, even when the brand gets a new coat of paint from Marvel Studios?

6. Men in Black: International

Was anyone asking for the Men in Black series to return? Maybe if they'd had a dynamite story this could’ve overcome the public’s general disinterest, but this was an extremely generic plot you could figure out easily minutes in and lost touch with what endeared us to the first. Even with the combined forces of Tessa Thompson and Chris Hemsworth failed, it to generate many laughs. Worse, to make sure I got any references or Easter egg it might drop, I re-watched all of the previous Men in Black movies, including the horrific Men in Black 2.

5. Replicas

This movie goes about itself in such a convoluted way. First, Keanu Reeves plays a scientist working for a company that wants to transplant the mind of dead soldiers into androids. Then, his family is killed in a car crash, prompting him to use the mind transfer tech to put their memories into new clone bodies of themselves. Problem is, he only has the means to clone three out of four family members. This means he has to erase all memories of his youngest daughter from the others’ brains. Following me so far? Good because it keeps going from there. Actually, that’s just the start of it. It’s a classic case of TMSGO - too much sh*t goin’ on. Even with all that, it STILLL managed to have gaping plot holes. No surprise it came and went as quietly as possible.

4. Hellboy

This one hurt. I wanted to see a superhero horror film badly. The early interviews I read about them wanting to adapt Mike Mignola’s books more closely than the Del Toro films got me excited. I was a little apprehensive when the trailers showed some goofy stuff but I figured these were included to draw people in. I should've listened to that sinking feeling. The actual film is awful, one giant mistake after another. Without a doubt, this featured the year’s worst special effects and even this I could've forgiven but the would-be humorous tone was badly misjudged and the story bloated with way too many elements that might've worked... if we weren't also trying to tell the character's origin at the same time. Hellboy ends with a teaser promising more and there’s no way we would’ve seen a sequel even if this had made money at the box office. Cool demons though, for what it’s worth.

3. Shaft

Looking back, I’m struggling to think of anything worth seeing in Shaft. I hated the film’s approach at comedy, particularly when it reverted Samuel L. Jackson’s John Shaft into the kind of man who proudly doesn’t understand modern sensibilities and spews out one homophobic joke after another. The plot was uninspired and uninteresting - not to mention generic - and none of it felt like it belonged on the big screen. On the upside, it prompted me to view the original trilogy with Richard Roundtree and those were enjoyable.

2. Simmba

Simmba is unlikely to be on the “Worst of 2019” list next January. It probably won’t be at the #2 spot. The film mixes two wildly different tones but not well. It begins as a romantic crime comedy, a dated one, sure. Simmba staging a phoney crime in order for the woman he’s attracted to to call him for help and then use the call as an excuse to stay with her through the night is creepy but I guess it might’ve passed like 20 years ago in North America. What makes this a bad film is the way it then introduces a character’s gang rape and murder as a way to prompt the anti-hero onto a righteous path. From there, it turns into this vigilante revenge film that has disturbing implications. You probably haven’t heard of it before now, much less seen it. I don’t recommend you check it out.

Runner Ups:

Aladdin

A controversial choice, as many casual filmgoers seem to have fallen madly in love with it (similar to the way they ate up 2017’s Beauty and the Beast) but honestly, what does this film do better than 1992’s Aladdin? Add an unmemorable song for Princess Jasmine to sing? Reduce the number of talking animals in order to give us more… nothing? Pile on the CGI to the point you wonder why it was made with live-actors in the first place? Like the innumerable direct-to-video sequels of classic films who've been all but forgotten, I tell you this Arabbian adventure won't endure.

Tolkien

So much potential squandered on a boring story. It didn’t take an astute viewer to recognize the film was crippled by the studio failing to obtain the rights to Tolkien’s actual work. I get the feeling we'll see another shot at a biography of J.R.R. Tolkien in a couple of years and this will be the Christopher Robin to the much superior Goodbye Christopher Robin.

The Hustle

It’s an unfunny comedy, what more is there to say? Rebel Wilson makes yet another bad career choice playing the same character she always plays. I only realized it was a remake of Dirty Rotten Scoundrels while writing my review, which is unfortunate. Hopefully I can expunge this film from my memory soon enough and forget anything it might’ve spoiled about the original Bedtime Story or the 1988 remake.

1. Unplanned

The numerous instances of technical incompetence - mostly coming from the performers who are given lackluster material - would be enough to condemn Unplanned to this list. What made me hate the film is the way it blatantly lies and attempts to manipulate the audience into further entrenching themselves in a certain point of view through cheap, manipulative means. I can respect that genuine passion was poured into the project but the way it goes about it is shameful. Do not go see it, even if you're curious.

Yuck. That last one really left a bad taste in my mouth so I'm going to talk about a movie I did enjoy and am enthusiastic to direct you towards Alita: Battle Angel. Rosa Salazar as the titular Alita impressed me and I really dug the action scenes. I'll also right a wrong from last year by reminding you to find and watch Paddington and Paddington 2, both movies I should've put on my "Best of" lists the years they came out. I don't know what I was thinking but I keep coming back to these in my head. They're excellent for kids and adults.

And with that said, the list is over. Back to our regularly-scheduled film reviews until something big comes up. Thoughts or comments on the list are welcome and I hope you enjoyed reading.

8 notes · View notes

eddiesrichie · 7 years

Text

I Got You

YUPP JUST ANOTHER REDDIE ONE SHOT CAUSE I’M TRASH.

Warnings: homophobic slurs, kissing

“Hey, where’s Eddie?” Richie asks as he strolls up to his friends. Everyone was here in a circle in front of the school for lunch, except for Eddie. It was weird not hearing him yammering about how unhealthy each cafeteria food was. The group instead was having their own individual conversations. Bill and Beverly were talking quietly in the grass, and Stan, Mike, and Ben were talking a few feet away against a tree.

Stan looks around and shrugs. “Maybe he got caught up in something. I can go with you to look for him if you want.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just go,” Richie waves him off. He sets his tray of food down, grabbing for a bread roll to take with him. He winks at Bill. “Continue sucking Bev’s face while I’m gone.”

“Sh-shut it, Richie!” Bill retorts back. He side-eyes Beverly with blushed cheeks, and he refuses to meet anyone’s eyes. Mike laughs in the background, and Beverly blushes and grins in her spot next to Bill.

Richie makes kissing noises with his lips, and Bill glares at him. “Beep, beep, Richie.”

The noises die on Richie’s lips, and he sticks his tongue out at Bill childishly. “Fine! I’m going to go find the cute, little bodied version of an anti-bacterial soap bottle, and I’ll be back.”

He gets a few goodbyes as he walks away, chewing on his roll as he walks across the schoolyard. The fallen leaves from the fall weather crunches under his converse shoes. He walks into the school, peeking around to find the other boy.

The farther he gets down the hall, he starts to hear loud yelling and banging against metal. Richie finishes off the bread, tensing up as he walks through an empty hallway. Memories of Pennywise lures in his thoughts, and he fears the corner as if he’ll see the clown as soon as he rounds it.

Another fear creeps up, covering up the other one like a blanket.

What if Pennywise had Eddie?

Somehow the reality was worse. Richie turns the corner, and he stops dead in his tracks as he stares at what’s in front of him.

It was much worse because Henry and his goons had Eddie pressed harshly against the lockers. It was worse because they were 100% real, unlike Pennywise. Pennywise lived on fear, and they was no longer afraid of him anymore. Pennywise couldn’t hurt them, especially because he crawled down his hole to come back in the future.

“Your boyfriend’s name is trashmouth right, faggot?” Henry growls through his teeth. His fingers wrap tight around Eddie’s skinny neck, surely leaving bruises that will probably lead to his mother shoving him in the car to race to the hospital for a numerous amount of checkups.

Richie’s stomach folds in on him, and his feet turn to stone. The question felt like a punch to the face, causing whiplash, taking him by surprise.

He can’t be the reason that they’re hurting Eddie.

Eddie does his best to break free from the hold, shoving hard against the older boy. “Fucking leave me alone, you asshole!”

Henry snaps at his friend, Patrick, behind him with his free hand. Patrick comes around with an overflowing trashcan that normally sits outside the gym doors. Fear clouds in Eddie’s eyes, struggling hard to get away. “What are you-“

“I’m only trying to show you that you two are meant to be,” Henry tells him with feign kindness. Eddie yelps in surprise when Henry reaches down and yanks the fanny pack clean off his waist and tosses it at his other friend.

“You are both trash.”

“No!” The exclaim rips out of Richie’s throat as Patrick turns the trashcan over, effectively causing all of the trash inside to land all over Eddie’s small frame.

Richie runs, forced to watch helplessly as Eddie gets shoved back into his own locker with the door locking him inside. His screams follow him inside, and Richie’s heart clenches at the sound. Henry and the others laugh as they sprint away, surely running away in order to not get caught.

“Eddie! Eddie, are you okay?” Richie asks through the metal door. He grabs the lock seeing that the locker was in fact Eddie’s, and thankfully, he knows Eddie’s combination. He stares at the boy all the time, and he noticed what numbers Eddie hits every time he opens his locker.

His brain short-circuits when he jumps back at the sound of Eddie banging hard against the locker door with his fists. He hears whimpering through the door.

“Eds? Eds, listen to me. You’re going to be okay,” Richie comforts gently. He fumbles with the lock, and he whispers, “I’m going to get you out of there, and soon you’ll be out here chastising us about us not using anti-bacterial wipes on our handlebars.”

“R-Richie?”

Richie curses quietly at messing up the combination. “It’s okay, Eds. Your enchanting voice got me messing up here,” Richie softly jokes. His sweaty fingers slip around his grip on the lock.

“Richie…Please. I can’t breathe. I can’t br-breathe, Richie.”

Eddie’s voice was so scared, and Richie wants to rip the door off its hinges. “Fuck!” Richie shouts, and then he finally gets the damn door unlocked. He flings it open and sets his eyes on the quivering boy inside. Richie tries to hide his wince, but the smell and sight of the trash that covered the other boy was atrocious.

Eddie bursts out of the locker, hyperventilating with wide, crazed eyes. His breathing is heavy and loud, and he stands with his limbs out like a hanging scarecrow. His whole body shakes. Condiments, liquids, and other questionable substances drip and fall off Eddie’s shaking form, and Richie has anger growing rapidly inside his chest.

“Just a second, Eds, don’t worry. I’ll be right back,” Richie mumbles out quickly. He turns around to get to his own locker. Thankfully, his locker was on the opposite wall of Eddie’s, so he didn’t have to go far. He opens it with tense fingers, and he reaches inside to grab the extra inhaler he’s been holding ever since he met Eddie. It’s deep inside his locker behind some books and papers, but it’s still there.

Eddie’s breathing picks up even more, gaining volume. “R-Richie, please! I-I can’t breathe!” he sobs.

Richie slams his locker shut and runs back to Eddie. He brings the inhaler to the frantic boy’s lips. He goes to caress Eddie’s cheek, but Eddie jumps back at the touch. Richie tries not to take it personally. He decides to keep his distance, reassuring Eddie that he’s okay, and he needs to breathe.

It takes longer and more hits than usual from the inhaler to do any good. Eddie was soon able to breathe a little better, but his chest still shakes from his sobbing. Eddie looks down at his body, and his face falls at the repulsive sight of his clothes, legs, and arms. He was still standing there, keeping his arms and legs spread eagle. Tears run down his face, and Richie is on the end of his rope.

“Come on, Eds,” Richie says as he starts to guide Eddie down the hall. “We’re going to the locker room. We’ll get you all cleaned up again. You’ll be so clean, you’ll be sparkling down the hall.”

Nothing much takes Richie by surprise. Due to his spontaneous personality, he doesn’t get surprised that many times. He’s more of a ‘let it be’ kind of guy rather than one who ponders on things.

But Eddie reaching for his hand to hold on to has his stomach doing backflips. The idea that he was an anchor of some sorts for Eddie at a time of crisis has him blushing. It wasn’t exactly new. When they dealt with Pennywise, Eddie was the first thing on his mind when they were attacked, and he likes to know that he was the first thing on Eddie’s mind as well.

He remembers when Pennywise appeared in the projector, and the first thing he did was pull Eddie towards him. That was the moment he knew what he felt for Eddie was not entirely friendly. There was something more growing in the pit of his heart, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

It doesn’t take long to get to the gym locker room. When they get inside, Richie is quick to lock the door behind them to keep from being disturbed. He helps Eddie over to the showers, and he leans in to start running the water. The bell above them rings, signaling them that lunch was over and to get to their next class. Both boys ignore it.

While waiting, Richie looks over at Eddie, who was staring at the garbage layered on his clothes. Richie tests out the water with a finger. “Serious question time,” Richie announces casually. Eddie tenses behind him.

“Do you think every time Henry breathes, a bunny dies?”

Eddie is silent.

“Do you think Satan lost an ounce of evil when Henry was born due to him taking some of his demonic powers with him?”

Eddie looks over at him with the tiniest bit of a smile on his lips. There is a tear currently rolling down his cheek, and Richie’s breath hitches.

“Did you know that every tear you shed, another fairy dies?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “Shut it, Richie. I’m not in the mood. I want to rip my fucking skin off.”

“That’s not what your mom said last night,” Richie jokes easily with a wide grin. Eddie flips him the bird. He’s relieved to know that Eddie was slowly coming back to himself. Richie stands up with a clap. “Alright, princess, your shower of cleanliness awaits!”

“Alright,” Eddie sighs in relief. He begins to pull his shirt over his head. “Don’t look at me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of ruining your honor and virtue,” Richie responds on instinct. Though, he does take a quick glance to make sure Eddie is able to remove the ruined clothing. He looks away when Eddie only has his underwear to remove.

“Do you even know what those two things are?” Eddie retorts as he closes the curtain behind him. Richie hears him sigh once the water hits his skin. “I didn’t think those words were in your vocabulary.”

There’s my Eddie. Richie smiles, feeling at ease now that Eddie was acting like himself again. “I added them to my dictionary when I met you, Eddie spaghetti,” Richie sing-songs.

The room goes quiet, except for the spraying of the water. Richie listens for the rhythm of Eddie’s breathing to make sure the boy was still breathing normally. He scrunches his eyebrows when he hears harsh scratching and rubbing. “Eddie, it’s okay. I’m sure you got most of it by now. Enough to where you can make it home where you can pull out your state of the art disease killing machine,” Richie quips.

“I do-don’t,” Eddie croaks from behind the curtain. Richie winces when he hears the scratching get louder and more furious. “I think there’s some kind of grease or maybe ketchup that won’t come out of my hair!”

Richie is up on his feet and shoving the curtain out of his way before he can think too much on it. Eddie shrieks and covers the area between his legs automatically at the sight of Richie.

“Richie, what the fuck! Get out!”

“Why would I look at you when I got better, bigger bits than you?” Richie plays it off with a shrug and a wink. He grabs for Eddie’s hand in his hair with a tsk. “You’re going to scalp yourself, dipshit. I’ll look, okay?” Richie assures the distraught boy.

If looks could kill, Richie knows he’d be dead, but Eddie didn’t have much of a choice. “Fine,” he hisses out in defeat.

Richie skims over the hair efficiently, yet quickly. He lightly scrubs at the remaining unknown substance until nothing was left. He says, “You’re good to go. Now hurry up, you’re using all of the clean water America has left.”

Richie leaves the shower with a quiet ‘thank you’ following after him. He sits back down on the locker room floor, waiting patiently as Eddie shuts off the water. He sees Eddie’s hand reach out to grab for his underwear.

Richie pushes his glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose before speaking. “Hey, um, I don’t know what exactly what happened. I only caught wind of probably half of it…but what happened? He said something about you being trash too?”

Richie was lying through his teeth, but it was only to keep Eddie from going insane again. He had also heard Henry call him Eddie’s boyfriend, but Eddie didn’t need to know that.

There’s silence behind the curtain, and Richie bites his lip from saying something else. He was called ‘trashmouth’ for a reason. If he opened his mouth again, he’s sure something without his permission would come streaming out.

Eddie leans to where half of his body was showing from behind the shower curtain. Water droplets drop from the ends of his hair, and he looks over at Richie. “They, uh, Henry called me queer because he thinks you and I are together.”

Richie’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. He sort of figured that was what Henry had been yammering about, but that just sheds some light on it all. He chuckles lamely, “That’s dumb.”

Something darkens and deflates in Eddie’s facial features, and Richie quickly speaks up again. “Who would want to kiss little ole’ me? Everyone in their right mind would be in line to kiss you, Eds,” Richie teases.

Eddie’s cheeks redden. “I told you I hate when you call me that,” he says with a small voice.

Richie leans back against the wall, slowly making his way closer to the smaller boy. “Do you?” he asks with a serious tone, though he keeps a smile stitched to his lips for back up. He has his theories, but he doesn’t want to scare Eddie into another attack.

Eddie ignores the question, and Richie tries to think what that could mean. “Nobody would want to kiss someone who probably smells like complete trash right now.”

“Nah,” Richie tells him without thinking. “Sure, you kind of do, but you also smell like Eddie.”

Eddie steps out of the shower with his eyes stuck on Richie. “What do I smell like?” he asks with confusion swimming in his eyes.

The atmosphere of the room was changing drastically, and Richie was torn between staying and fleeing. His words were straying from friendly to something else quickly, and he doesn’t know how to shut himself up. He wished his own conscious had a mouth to say ‘Beep, beep, Richie’, because he is 100 percent sure it’d be screaming it at the top of his lungs right now.

Eddie was looking at him with such interest tied with vulnerability like every word Richie was saying was a lifeline. Richie has always felt powerless under Eddie’s gaze. Nobody stole his entire attention like Eddie did. He could be ranting or making up some hilarious story with a funny plot twist, but then he’ll notice Eddie looking at him, and he switches from confident to uncertainty and stuttering like stuttering Bill.

On the other hand, if he had just started ranting about some story or joke, he’ll have his full attention on Eddie. He doesn’t know what it is, but he loves the idea of impressing Eddie, or making the other boy laugh. Eddie’s approval has him weak in the knees, wanting nothing more than getting some sort of reaction out of him. That’s why 75 percent of the time he was directing his jokes at Eddie.

“You just…you smell like, Eddie, I don’t know,” Richie mumbles. He runs his fingers through his hair nervously. “I don’t know how to explain it. You smell like you. You smell clean with a mix of outside spring air. You smell like familiarity. I don’t know, but what I do know, is that if I were to close my eyes, I would always know it’s you right next to me.”

Eddie was looking at him in shock and wonder, and Richie’s conscious finally speaks up to tell him to run away. He parts his lips to talk his way out of whatever hole he just fucking dug for himself, but then Eddie breaks out in a smile, and he gives a light shove to Richie’s shoulder.

“You sweet talker, you,” Eddie teases with a shake of his head.

Richie gawks and retaliates by pushing Eddie’s hand away. “That’s exactly what your mom said last night.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “And you lost it,” he bites out with another weak shove.

“That’s not what your mom said last night,” Richie replies with a wide smirk. This begins a small shoving fight with light banter. Richie is pushing Eddie’s shoves, or Eddie is dodging Richie’s shoves. Richie doesn’t know how it happened, but suddenly he’s got both of Eddie’s hands in his. Sarcastic, biting remarks die on both of their lips, and neither boy breaks eye contact.

He doesn’t know how, but his hands are both numb and shaky. Eddie’s light brown eyes are pinning him in the spot, and his brain yells at him to do something. Sarcastic comment? Light humor? Another mom joke? Run-

His breath is stolen out of his lungs when lips press against his.

His eyes are wide in shock, and he stares at Eddie’s closed eyelids. He follows along and closes his eyes too. He lets go of Eddie’s hands in order to pull him closer to him. He has one shy hand on Eddie’s hip and the other one cupping his neck. He senses two hands between their chests, but he doesn’t mind. He’s too busy trying to figure out what to do with his lips.

He experiments. He tilts his head, finding a better angle to where their noses aren’t pushed against each other. He presses slightly harder against Eddie’s lips, and Eddie copies him. He smiles into the kiss, loving how incredibly soft the shorter boy’s lips are.

The kiss is sloppy and amateur since kissing was new to both boys, but they tried their best. There are shy, innocent touching – the boys trying to accustom to the new territory.

Eddie breaks apart from the kiss, but he keeps his hands tangled in Richie’s shirt. Richie grins.

“I’m only stopping now because I’m embarrassed knowing that someone is going to ask how was my first kiss, and I have to tell them that I was kissing another boy in my damn middle school locker room in my fucking underwear,” Eddie groans with fake irritation.

Richie giggles. “If I had known this was going to happen, I would’ve set up some candles. Maybe some music playing in the background.”

Eddie scoffs, “Yeah, I’m sure you’re incredibly romantic.”

“I can be whatever you want me to be, baby,” Richie quickly responds with his eyebrows wagging up and down. In the back of his mind, he’s terrified to wonder how much he’d exactly do for the shorter boy.

“Oh my God,” Eddie groans with a roll of his eyes. Though, Richie can see humor in them too.

Eddie falls short when he turns around and sees his clothes on the floor. He scowls, “I am not wearing those. I’d rather light myself on fire.”

“You can wear mine,” Richie offers with a shrug.

Eddie twists around and stares at Richie. “What?”

“I said you can wear my clothes,” Richie repeats. “No big deal. I can find clothes in this school, Eds. I’m sure Stan has an extra t-shirt, and I bet Bill has some extra gym shorts I can wear.”

Eddie stares at him with an aghast look in his eye.

Richie awkwardly picks at his fingernails, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “Which one makes more sense: you running around in your underwear, or me running around in my underwear?”

Clarity seems to return to Eddie because he finally stops looking at Richie like he has three heads. “I guess that’s good reasoning,” he whispers. “Thanks, Richie. That means a lot.”

Richie smiles, and he walks over to Eddie and places a kiss on his forehead. He can think about it later on just how far he’d go to please Eddie. He’ll think about it later because right now Eddie is looking at him with those earth-stilling brown eyes. He can hardly breathe until Eddie turns around to throw away his ruined clothes.

So, he does end up running around the school searching for clothes. What else is new? Just another thing to add to the list of ‘guess what Richie is doing’.

He snickers as he adds something else to the list for the future.

Eddie.

#reddie #reddie one shot #my writing

888 notes · View notes

the-record-columns · 6 years

Text

Feb. 13, 2019: Columns

She gave much, but asked little

Editor’s note: This column originally appeared in a slightly different form on Feb. 17, 2009)

Willa Mae Lankford

By KEN WELBORN

Record Publisher

Lifelong Millers Creek resident Willa Mae Lankford, widow of Sammie Lankford died Thursday, February 12 (2009).

Willa Mae died as she lived, peacefully, and surrounded by those who loved her.

Her son, Jerry Lankford, is the editor of The Record. What follows was adapted from remarks I made at Willa Mae’s funeral service on Sunday, Feb. 15, 2009, at the Arbor Grove United Methodist Church in Purlear. The service was conducted by Rev. Ed McKinney, and special music was provided by David Johnson, Eric Ellis, and Keith Watts, longtime friends of the Lankford family.

***

David, Eric, and Keith make that music look easy, don’t they, but it sure isn’t. As they played, I couldn’t help but remember the little half-smile that would come over Willa Mae’s face, much like the one on this page, when she would listen to her son, Jerry, or one of her grandchildren play music. She enjoyed listening, then combined that enjoyment with the feeling of pride only a mother and grandmother can know.

I actually came to know Willa Mae Lankford because of her son, Jerry, and much of what I say today revolves around that.

A bit over 10 years ago (20 years now), a man stopped me and asked when I was going to turn Thursday Magazine into a newspaper—I replied that I was looking for the right person to do just that. He inquired further, and I told him I was looking for a man in his 30’s who had newspaper experience outside Wilkes County, and who might be in a situation with aging parents or something and looking to settle back down in Wilkes.

“I know that man,” he replied, “I know exactly that man.”

In my mind I said “Sure you do,” and told him just to have that fella call me.

Well folks, about four hours later, that very same day, I got a phone call from a man who identified himself as Jerry Lankford, and who began the conversation with, “I understand you might like to start a newspaper.”

The rest, as I like to say, is history. Very soon, after Jerry began working with us, The Record began publishing and thankfully, continues to do so. There is an aside I must tell on Jerry, however. We agreed that he was to give a two week notice to his employer the following Friday. That afternoon, he came by my office to tell me when he gave his notice that they sent him home on the spot. I told him not to worry, just come on in on Monday and we would just start work a little earlier than planned. So you see, his first day at work on his new job was a day off. Pretty good deal, huh.

Particularly in the earliest years of The Record, circumstances called for me to spend many, many late hours with Jerry Lankford. Anytime we were anywhere near Kite Road in Millers Creek, we would stop in for a visit with his mother. As long as I knew her, she was in fragile health. As the years went by, more and more things went wrong and she became noticeably weaker and weaker.

But her spirit remained strong. I never heard her complain, in fact, she was always asking how I was doing—most especially after I suffered a stroke some years ago.

And, she stayed busy.

Unable to get around very well, she was always making something with her hands. I guess it was from all those years at the City Florist, working and talking with that wonderful gaggle of ladies who we all knew by sight, if not by name. In fact, one of the gifts I enjoy most came from Willa Mae—not counting Jerry, of course. One day he brought me a package about the size of a bowling ball and said simply, “My mother made this for you.” Inside was a multi-sided quilted star. “It is to be used as a doorstop.” Jerry said.

It was amazing.

You can look and look and you can’t find a starting place, or a stopping place, and I still have no idea how she put that thing together, but it’s beautiful, and remains one of the most noticed items in my home, and a gift I’ll always treasure.

And that was Willa Mae.

She gave much of herself and asked for little.

She loved her husband, her children, and her grandchildren.

And she loved the people of Arbor Grove Methodist Church so much.

To Ellen, Mike (now also deceased), and to my good friend, Jerry, I must be honest and tell you that nothing will ever be quite the same for you again. But hold on to those wonderful memories of your mother, indeed, wrap yourselves in them, for they will carry you through a lot.

Willa Mae Lankford—a kind and caring soul if ever there was one.

Clearly, she rests in peace.

Willa Mae Lankford

Nov. 9, 1926 – Feb. 12, 2009

Gentlemen of the Jury…

By HEATHER DEAN

Record Reporter

Next week I will be performing with Alleghany Community Theatre as they present “12 Angry Jurors” in the historic courthouses of Sparta, N.C., and Independence, Va.

Readers may remember the original title of “12 Angry Men,” a stage play written by Reginald Rose, which was also adapted to a 1957 movie starring Henry Fonda.

Over the years the title has changed in production as women have been allowed to be seen as competent jurors. But that wasn’t always the case.

Even though women have served on juries for over 100 years, it was considered more of a novelty, which quickly turned to critique, with national newspapers lamenting that “men would be only too happy to cede the burden of jury service to women, if only female jurors could be trusted to endure the gruesome business.” And so the “woman of the jury experiment” began. The results? Good female jurors were conscientious and committed to justice, just like their male counterparts (gasp!).

For those not familiar with the show, the plot revolves around the murder trail of a Latino teenager accused of murdering his abusive father. His conviction would mean execution by electric chair. The case seems open and shut with a murder weapon and witnesses to place the boy at the scene of the crime. One lone juror, attempts to prevent a miscarriage of justice by forcing his colleagues to reconsider the evidence “beyond a reasonable doubt.”

As the case unfolds more is learned about each juror, in some cases, the paranoia and prejudices that expose the ugliness of white privilege and imagined American supremacy.

I play juror 11, an immigrant watchmaker and naturalized American citizen who demonstrates a strong patriotic pride. (George Voskovec had this part in the 1957 film).

Voskovec was a Czech actor, writer, dramatist, and director who became an American citizen in 1955.

I am the fourth to cast a not guilty vote, but not without repercussion. Prejudice runs amok among the jurors, and my character at one point is questioned because I am not a “real American.” One juror even throws up the fact that I ran for my life during the Second World War, taking advantage of the American Immigration system, doubtful that I was really a refugee, and that I had no right to come over here, or even serve on a jury, and I certainly did not get to tell them how the Constitution works. She follows this up with a threat to “knock my GD middle-eastern head off” if I don’t shut up. Needless to say, our characters have quite a row after that exchange. In fact, a lot of murder threats get thrown around to other jurors, making our task at hand seem like the background noise to the real issue of the intricate divisiveness of human nature when questioned with what it is to “be a good American.”

This play is both eye opening and disheartening to me. Even though human compassion wins in the end, kind of, the relentless diatribe of how of a kid literally from the wrong side of the tracks, because of his skin color, his nationality, and his lack of being able to speak English is ENOUGH for the many of this jury to dismiss him and actually be happy about sending him to his demise, to keep the country “clean.”

The absolute prejudice shown in the 50’s is still being shown today, most recently with a supposed crisis at the border. The vitriol spouted in this play is the same we still hear on national news 60 years later. I get chill bumps at some of the lines realizing that the more things change, the more they stay the same, and that we have a humanitarian duty to make sure the cruel side of history stops with us.

To quote Henry Fonda’s character’s closing line “Let them live.”

12 Angry Jurors is presented by Alleghany Community Theatre and Alleghany Arts Council and is directed by Danny Linehan. Tickets are $8 adults, $5 students. Friday Feb. 22, and Saturday Feb. 23, shows are at 7 p.m. at the Alleghany Courthouse, 12 N Main St Sparta, NC 28675. Sunday Feb. 24, show is at 2 p.m., at the Old Grayson courthouse in Independence, Virginia, 107 E Main St, Independence, VA 24348.

Cast includes: Foreman (An assistant football coach): Lori Hirschy; Juror Two (A shy bank clerk): Beka Perry; Juror Three (Small business owner): Kevin Bennett; Juror Four (Stock Broker): Brant Burgiss; Juror Five (EMT in a Harlem Hospital): Zach Weaver; Juror Six ( Housepainter): Charlie Scott; Juror Seven (Marmalade salesman): Laura Kennedy; Juror Eight (Architect): Danny Linehan; Juror Nine (Elderly Retiree): Marion Adams; Juror Ten (Mechanic): Donny McCall; Juror Eleven (Immigrant Watchmaker): Heather Dean; Juror Twelve (Marketing Agent): Michael Bridges.

Anti-Semitic Strategy at the UN

By EARL COX

Special to The Record

At first glance, the recent G-77 gathering seemed like a “Saturday Night Live” parody of the UN’ s largest bloc. The new chairman, with rehearsed political correctness, to smiles and applause, called on “all states” (except his) to end the “epidemic” of terrorism and “work with us to put an end to this scourge.”

The speaker was Palestinian Authority President and PLO chairman Mahmoud Abbas— infamous inciter and propagator of violence and terror against the sovereign State of Israel, and bankroller of Palestinian terrorism to the tune of more than US $138 million to terrorist prisoners and ex-convicts in 2018 alone.

Abbas’s chairmanship, which violates G-77 principles and the UN Charter, is the latest blight on the UN’s eroded legitimacy and credibility. Created to safeguard world peace, security, human rights, and the sovereign equality of states by peaceful dispute resolution, the UN has been hijacked by an anti-Semitic, terror-tainted political agenda—discrediting itself by violating its own charter.

How did this sorry state of affairs develop? And what can be done by those states who are committed to the UN’s ethical, democratic founding principles?

Anti-Semitism at the UN began not randomly, but as a deliberate strategy. Some historians believe it started after Israel won the Six-Day War in June 1967, damaging Russian prestige at home and abroad. The Soviets, enraged by Israel’s defeat of its proxies Egypt and Syria, retaliated, aiming its Cold War weapons of propaganda and disinformation against the Jewish State—by a state-sponsored vilification campaign against Israel and Jews, and then at the UN, where it forged a political alliance with Arab and Third World states. Starting in 1969, the General Assembly produced multiple resolutions affirming the “inalienable rights of the Palestinian people.”

Russia uses language for totalitarian social control, said historian Joel Fishman. Following the Six-Day War, the selected vocabulary was published in the party newspaper Komsomolskaya Pravda in October 1967: “Zionism is dedicated to genocide, racism, treachery, aggression, and annexation ...attributes of fascists.” In 1975, the Soviet- Arab bloc passed GA Resolution 3379, “Zionism is Racism."

But historian Joel Fishman said Resolution 3379 was brewing in 1964—before the Six-Day War. In March of that year, the U.S.proposed that the UN recognize anti-Semitism as a form of racism along with apartheid and Nazism. The Soviets stonewalled, because they were, after all, anti-Semites who persecuted Soviet Jews, Fishman said. They threatened the United States to drop the proposal or face a Russian amendment condemning Zionism and Nazism—thus equating the two.

In October 1965, the US pushed an amendment to the final draft condemning anti-Semitism, but the Soviets insisted on adding“Zionism” to the forms of racism to condemn. After a bitter debate, a compromise struck all references to racism except apartheid. Thus, the Soviets succeeded in excluding anti-Semitism as racist without leaving behind a voting record—which could augur future charges against its own state-sponsored anti-Semitism.

The 1965 debates critically impacted evolving world opinion and international law on Israel and Zionism. “From then on, it was almost impossible to raise anti-Semitism as a human rights issue,” Fishman said. Thus Soviet political propaganda became a bridge to today’s global outbreak.

For the Soviets, the Cold War never really ended. Recent revelations of their digital disinformation and propaganda are well-publicized.

But neither has the UN been a passive instrument of Soviet manipulation. Israeli Major General (res.) Yaakov Amidror recalled how UN Secretary General U Thant endorsed President Nasser’s request to withdraw UN forces from the Sinai. Nasser replaced them with Egyptian military divisions, helping to spark the Six-Day War. And that’s just one example of UN complicity against Israel.

Israel’s concerted relationship-building with individual nations, and delegations of visiting UN ambassadors to see and experience the “real” Israel firsthand, are part of the solution to return to the UN Charter principle of friendly relations between nations. Likewise, while keeping an eye on Russia, Western democracies should continue to strengthen democratic blocs of nations to defend against the real “scourge.”

At all costs, the truth must be published. What does Israel or the US gain from “dialogue” in a tilted UN that could be better served by bilateral or Western-bloc diplomacy?

Heart to Heart

By CARL WHITE

Life in the Carolinas

The past few weeks have been exciting and entertaining.

The Carolinas are well known for seasonal abnormalities. It’s not odd to have near recording breaking cold weather for a few days and then Spring-like weather. Just enough to tease our spring flowering plant life and then in the twinkling of an eye it’s cold again.

So, it goes in the Carolinas, we are people with many layers, and those layers come in handy during our winter months. We also love metaphors, and a colorful story fills the need we have to be a good storyteller or a great listener. The need for both is never-ending.

While in the barber’s chair last week, Garry, my barber, had big news. It looks like he may have a brother he is just now learning about. I asked him if he was excited about having a new brother. He said he was; however, the idea is so new he is still processing the emotions that come along with such a discovery.

Josh, Garry’s son and the fellow barber said they have been invited to visit their new northern family member. Garry is not much for long-distance travel; his heart indeed is in the Carolinas, and he is not excited about venturing too far away from the land he calls home.

In the style of true Southern Hospitality, an invitation will soon be extended to the brother from afar. From what I understand hints have already been given by the new brother that suggest an invite and visit to the Carolinas would be welcomed.

Bill Barns ask for my thoughts on his new book that is in the final stages before publishing. The first sentence of Chapter One is “One beautiful, moonlit night, a young mother opossum known as Oden was out in the woods foraging for food.”

I plan to read every word.

I had the opportunity to take in a few live shows. One was an open mic night at The 1915 in Wilkesboro, and the other was at the Reeves Theater in Elkin NC. The Reeves Theater is the subject of one of our broadcast segments that we are calling The Carolina Theater Trail. The segment series will be part of our Life In The Carolinas syndicated show. Over the next few years, we will be producing segments on historically significant Theaters in the Carolinas. We have a good variety of theaters to choose, and each one plays a vital role in our charming towns in the Carolinas.

I enjoyed dinner with Ken Welborn, publisher, and friend who loves the Carolinas with a strong focus on Wilkes County. It’s never a dull visit with Ken. The food and service at Sixth and Main in North Wilkesboro is excellent. I enjoyed the crab cakes with asparagus and baby potatoes. Ken dined on and spoke well about the salmon and vegetables. I think digestion works better when you have dinner with a well-seasoned storyteller.

In celebration of February as the Heart Month, we had Dr. Julian Thomas as a guest on the Life In The Carolinas Podcast. We titled the episode Heart to Heart. The special show focused on the journey of dealing with matters of the heart. Dr. Thomas is brilliant, and his approach to healthcare is driven by promoting awareness and a passion for healing.

Wherever we find ourselves, it’s a good idea to stop for a moment and share our lives with those we are around. The love month can be demanding, but it can also be gentle, kind and full of passion.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Carl White is the Executive Producer and Host of the award-winning syndicated TV show Carl White’s Life In The Carolinas. The weekly show is now in its 10th year of syndication and can be seen in the Charlotte market on WJZY Fox 46 Saturday’s at noon and My40. The show also streams on Amazon Prime. For more information visit www.lifeinthecarolinas.com. You can email Carl at [email protected].

0 notes

networkingdefinition · 5 years

Text

Tractors Quotes

Official Website: Tractors Quotes

(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push();

• All middle-class novels are about the trials of three, all upper-class novels about mass fornication, all revolutionary novels about a bad man turned good by a tractor. – Christina Stead • Art is no longer snobbish or cowardly. It teaches peasants to use tractors, gives lyrics to young soldiers, designs textiles for factory women’s dresses, writes burlesque for factory theatres, does a hundred other useful tasks. Art is as usueful as bread. – Azar Nafisi

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Tractor', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_tractor').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_tractor img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Cows provide approx 100 million tonnes of dry dung a year costing Rs 5000 crores which saves 50 million tonnes of firewood which again means that many trees saved and more environmental damage prevented. It is calculated that if these 73 million animals were to be replaced, we would need 7.3 million tractors at the cost of 2.5 lac each which would amount to an investment of 180,000 crores. In addition 2 crore, 37 lakh and 50 thousand tonnes of diesel which would mean another 57,000 crore rupees. This is how much we owe these animals, and this is what we stand to lose by killing them. – Maneka Gandhi • Happiness is the twinkle in your grandmother’s eye as you reverse the tractor off her legs. – Hugh Laurie • He (David Beckham) does have a huge one, though. He does. You can see it in the advert. It is all his. It is like a tractor exhaust pipe! – Victoria Beckham • His herding instinct is so strong that he confuses tractors on a baseball field for sheep. He was hospitalized twice. Once by a line drive and once for attacking a tractor tread. – Tom Hayden • How much courage does it take to fire up your tractor and plow under a crop you spent six or seven years growing? How much courage to go on and do that after you’ve spent all that time finding out how to prepare the soil and when to plant and how much to water and when to reap? How much to just say, “I have to quit these peas. Peas are no good for me, I better try corn or beans. – Stephen King • I bought an ant farm. I don’t know where I am going to get a tractor that small! – Steven Wright • I buy a tractor two years ago, and four-fifths of the tractor manual is about not tipping over, not raising the bucket high enough to hit high-tension wire… not killing yourself, basically. And in that manual, I found out – and it cost me a thousand dollars – that when the tractor is new, 10 hours into use of the tractor, you have to re-torque the lug nuts. If you don’t, you will oval the holes. This is buried between the moron warnings. I never found it. I take the tractor in for its regular servicing, and they say my wheels are gone. How am I supposed to know that? “It’s in the manual.” – P. J. O’Rourke • I can’t write on the road. I have to be home. I have to be around all those rusted tractors and dilapidated fences and things like that, because it just grounds me in a way that I can’t find in a hotel room. – John Fullbright • I did as much as I could: raising chickens, pushing an ice-cream cart, bagging walnuts, driving a tractor on a beet farm, working on the railroad. I think this eclectic career helped me a lot in life. – Charles R. Schwab • I didn’t get much peace, but I heard in Norway that Russia might well become a huge market for tractors soon. – Henry Ford • I do not like football, which I think of as a game in which two tractors approach each other from opposite directions and collide. Besides, I have contempt for a game in which players have to wear so much equipment. Men play basketball in their underwear, which seems just right to me. – Anna Quindlen • I don’t know of a better argument in favor of farming with horses than trying to start an old tractor in the winter time. – Gene Logsdon • I dont know how the other senators see me. I hope they see me as a farmer. Thats really what I am. But I dont think they see me on a tractor or fixing equipment. I hope they see me grounded, as somebody who has common sense.- Jon Tester • I drove a tractor almost as soon as I could reach the pedals. – Sheri L. Dew • I had no idea ‘Big Green Tractor’ was going to be as big a hit as it was. You just can’t predict those things. – Jason Aldean • I had to jump on the tractor and do my chores. I would have just killed to be in town, to be able to Rollerblade hand-in-hand with somebody I had a crush on. I just wanted to get off the farm, to find my outlet. – Garrett Hedlund • I have a 60-acre farm in North Carolina, and I have a tractor and a farmhouse. As soon as I groom the land, I want to put cabins around and have a place where people can write and hang out. It’ll be either that or an all-black nudist colony. – Zach Galifianakis • I haven’t seen a tractor working all day. The country has gone sane and got back to horses. Farmers all look worse, but they feel better. – Will Rogers • I remember driving the tractor on our farm, and Tim McGraw would be on the radio. I’d find myself walking out of class, singing his songs. And then Tim ended up playing my father in ‘Friday Night Lights.’ It was surreal. – Garrett Hedlund • I said I would do all the films about the commercials, and the films about ball-bearings and Ford tractors and so on, if once a year they gave me money for a free film. – Karel Reisz • I spend hours mowing the lawn in absolutely straight lines on my tractor. If it’s not right, I do it again. – Britt Ekland • I take my vacation on the combine and tractor. – Jon Tester • I used to help my grandfather on the farm, driving tractors, raising crops and animals. I used to feed some of the baby cows and pigs, and I had to be no older than 7 or 8. Then at about 9 or 10 I started driving tractors. It showed me at an early age what hard work was all about and how dedicated you have to be, no matter what you do. – Tyson Chandler • I used to own an ant farm but had to give it up. I couldn’t find tractors small enough to fit it. – Steven Wright • I was working on the farm to get in shape, about a mile away from my parents. You know, I did everything as a kid to stay in shape – jogging, work on the farm, driving the tractor. I’ll never forget. – Guy Lafleur • I welcome opposing viewpoints, but I should warn you that you’ll be facing off against the 2nd-place finisher at the 1981 Charleston County High-School Debate Tournament. And whatever became of that county champ who argued in favor of tractor safety modifications? Last time I checked, she didn’t have her own show. – Stephen Colbert • I would say my first golf memory was asking who Arnold Palmer was when he was always on the Pennzoil commercials. When I was a little kid I watched a lot of sports, but I didn’t watch a lot of golf, and this guy was always on a tractor. – Mike Greenberg • I’d rather do manual labor than sit behind a desk. And as my grandparents got older, I’d fly out there and help out around the farm. We’d tear barns down; we’d build barns. I’d rather be outside rolling hay or driving the tractors. – Kellan Lutz • If I hadn’t become a golfer, I doubt I’d be wealthy, because I don’t have the sort of ego that drives a person all day long. I might have wound up driving a tractor. – Fuzzy Zoeller • If we were to go back in time 100 years and ask a farmer what he’d like if he could have anything, he’d probably say he wanted a horse that was twice as strong and ate half as many oats. He would not say he wanted a tractor. The point is, technology changes things so fast that many people aren’t sure what the best solutions to their problems might be. – Philip Quigley • If your stomach blocks your view of your feet, cover it up! The only people who should be wearing belly shirts are people who don’t have bellies. Now those little baby spare tires are kinda cute; tractor tires aren’t! Especially if they’ve got hair on them! – Jeff Foxworthy • I’m an outdoor nut. If I’m not working, I’m on a tractor on my farm, hunting, fishing or climbing a mountain. – Jeff Foxworthy • I’m working on a second cookbook and am working on my love story, ‘Black Heels to Tractor Wheels. – Ree Drummond • It is unthinkable to have a British countryside that doesn’t have actual functioning farmers riding tractors, cows in fields, things like that. – Bill Bryson • It’s as if the whole notion of growing soil is something only lunatics would think about. But why not grow soil? Does anything make more sense than growing soil? Isn’t that more important than tractors, trucks, silos, barns, county fairs and country music? Of course it is. And yet to the lion’s share of American farmers, the very notion of growing soil is just plain silly.- Joel Salatin • It’s good way to relax when I come home from the road. When you’re out there on the tractor there’s nobody to bother you. – Sterling Marlin • It’s like if every single male artist dressed up as farmers. In every video they were on a farm. Whether it was Jason Derulo or Oasis, they’re always on a tractor, they’re always surrounded by sheep and always in boots. And all the songs are about enjoying farming, and this is all you’ve had for 10 years – you’d think you were going mad. – Caitlin Moran • It’s us fun being a horse when the tractor comes along, or the blacksmith when the car comes along. – Warren Buffett • James Davison took me out to show me where Karl is living right now and where hes going to build. Karl wasnt at home. He was out there somewhere in the woods riding on some Caterpillar or some kind of tractor. But I figured wed at least knock on the door to see if he was there. His wife answered the door. So we got to meet Kay before Karl. – Terry Bradshaw • Let the Black man go – stop lying to us that you love us. And if you really love us, let us go and give us some of this territory that we can call our own; and give us the billions of dollars that we can get started with land and with tractors and the things that will make us an independent nation. – Louis Farrakhan • Lincolnshire is the Idaho of England. You were either going to drive a tractor for the rest of your life or head for the city to work in a factory. – Bernie Taupin • Maybe I should just go home and ride my tractor. – Chuck Grassley • Most of us stand poised at the edge of brilliance, haunted by the knowledge of our proximity, yet still demonstrably on the wrong side of the line, our dealings with reality undermined by a range of minor yet critical psychological flaws (a little too much optimism, an unprocessed rebelliousness, a fatal impatience or sentimentality). We are like an exquisite high-speed aircraft which for lack of a tiny part is left stranded beside the runway, rendered slower than a tractor or bicycle. – Alain de Botton • My father did get enough money to buy mules. We didn’t have tractors, but he bought mules, wagons, cultivators and some farming equipment. As soon as he bought that and decided to rent some land, because it was always better if you rent the land, but as soon as he got the mules and wagons and everything, somebody went to our trough – a white man who didn’t live very far from us – and he fed the mules Paris Green, put it in their food and it killed the mules and our cows. – Fannie Lou Hamer • My father kept me busy from dawn to dusk when I was a kid. When I wasn’t pitching hay, hauling corn or running a tractor, I was heaving a baseball into his mitt behind the barn… If all the parents in the country followed his rule, juvenile delinquency would be cut in half in a year’s time. – Bob Feller • My mother told me I said to her, at age three, ‘I’m going to go to Italy and get my father in a tractor.’ ‘You’ve never seen quite so fierce a little boy as you were,’ she told me. She tried to explain that I couldn’t get my father in a tractor. Apparently I looked at her and narrowed my eyes and said, ‘In that case, I’m going in a double-decker bus,’ and stomped off. Which is kind of funny, but it’s very sad, as well. – Roger Waters • Of course, it’s always bad to lose, of course it’s always a hardship when you lose to yesterday’s miners or yesterday’s tractor drivers. But life is life. It’ll surely go on. – Vladimir Putin • One of the first sights that shocked me, when I came to Israel in 1921, was an Arab turning over a field with a very primitive plow; pulling the plow were an ox and a woman. Now, if it means that we have destroyed this romantic picture by bringing in tractors, combines, and threshing machines, this is true: we have. – Golda Meir • Programs that pay farmers not to farm often devastate rural areas. The reductions hurt everyone from fertilizer companies to tractor salesmen. – Dick Armey • Some of the environmental lobbyists of the western nations are the salt of the earth, but many of them are elitists. They have never experienced the physical sensation of hunger. They do their lobbying from comfortable office suites in Washington or Brussels. If they lived just one month amid the misery of the developing world, as I have for fifty years, they would be crying out for tractors, and fertilizer, and irrigation canals, and be outraged that fashionable elitists back home were trying to deny them these things. – Norman Borlaug • Sometimes I feel people think I live on a commune but I don’t. We are all solar, though. There are no power lines. It’s mostly farmers, so everyone who has tractors uses bio-diesel. – Woody Harrelson • Technically speaking, you drive like a rabid chicken who has hijacked a tractor. – Sarah Rees Brennan • That stupid saying “What you don’t know can’t hurt you” is ridiculous. What you don’t know can kill you. If you don’t know that tractor trailer trucks hurt when hitting you, then you can play in the middle of the interstate with no fear – but that doesn’t mean you won’t get killed. – Dave Ramsey • That’s life. We all go through the tractor blades now and then. We all get bruised, and we all get cut. Sometimes the blade cuts deep. The lucky ones come through with a few scratches, a little blood, but even that isn’t the most important thing. The most important thing is having someone there to scoop you up, to hold you tight, and to tell you everything is all right. – Vicki Myron • That’s the great thing about a tractor. You can’t really hear the phone ring. – Jeff Foxworthy • That’s where I live, a junkyard in a neighborhood of junkyards. We have three tractors from the 1940s and ’50s, several old pickup trucks, and a pile of scrap metal. – Bonnie Jo Campbell • The basic thing a man should know is how to change a tyre and how to drive a tractor. Whatever that bearded dude is doing on the Dos Equis beer commercials sets the bar. That’s your guy. Every man should be aiming to be like him. The beard is just the tip of the iceberg. – Timothy Olyphant • The infantryman slithers in the mud, while many teams of horses are needed to drag each gun forward. All wheeled vehicles sink up to their axles in the slime. Even tractors can only move with great difficulty. A large portion of our heavy artillery was soon stuck fast… The strain that all this caused our already exhausted troops can perhaps be imagined. – Gunther Blumentritt • The only difference between men and women is that women are able to create new little human beings in their bodies while simultaneously writing books, driving tractors, working in offices, planting crops – in general, doing everything men do. – Erica Jong • The things that don’t happen to us that we’ll never know didn’t happen to us. The nonstories. The extra minute to find the briefcase that makes you late to the spot where a tractor trailer mauled another car instead of yours. The woman you didn’t meet because she couldn’t get a taxi to the party you had to leave early from. All of life is a series of nonstories if you look at it that way. We just don’t know what they are. – Anita Shreve • There are only three things that can kill a farmer: lightning, rolling over in a tractor, and old age. – Bill Bryson • We know that urban farms require less fuel for tractors and transport, but community gardens don’t plant themselves. – Van Jones • Well, I have a farm in Vermont that’s my main residence, where I do lots of digging and mowing, and ride tractors – just so you don’t get the wrong idea that I’m too girlie! – Tim Daly • When a country is in harmony with the Tao, the factories make trucks and tractors. When a country goes counter to the Tao, warheads are stockpiled outside the cities. There is no greater illusion than fear, no greater wrong than preparing to defend yourself, no greater misfortune than having an enemy. Whoever can see through all fear will always be safe. – Laozi • When I was still at school, I’d help Dad at the concrete yard he had prior to the garden centre. I was doing things there, like driving the tractors and forklifts, that most kids my age couldn’t. – Rick Astley • When will they make a tractor that can furnish the manure for farm fields and produce a baby tractor every spring? – George Erik Rupp • Why does a three-year-old, and it’s usually boys, want to drive the tractor or have machinery and be in control of it? I don’t know. Why wouldn’t you ask to boil a kettle or something? Maybe you would, I dunno. – Michael Fassbender • You can tell this by the program the federal government had to train 2,400 tractor drivers. They would have trained Negro and white together, but this man, Congressman Jamie Whitten, voted against it and everything that was decent. So, we’ve got to have somebody in Washington who is concerned about the people of Mississippi. – Fannie Lou Hamer • You know, when Arnold Palmer came on TV with an old tractor and told me to buy Pennzoil, I bought that, and when Dale Jarrett advertises UPS, I can go along with that, too. But I don’t think having an 18-year-old, somebody who’s probably gotten five packages in his life and they were all ‘Girls Gone Wild’ videos, tell me what delivery service I should use would have much effect on me. – Kyle Petty • You might be a redneck if on your first date you had to ask your Dad to borrow the keys to the tractor. – Jeff Foxworthy

[clickbank-storefront-bestselling]

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'a', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_a').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_a img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'e', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_e').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_e img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'i', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_i').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_i img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'o', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_o').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_o img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'u', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_u').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_u img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

0 notes

equitiesstocks · 5 years

Text

Tractors Quotes

Official Website: Tractors Quotes

(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push();

[clickbank-storefront-bestselling]

0 notes