In his frequent glances, you can see in his eyes that he really does like you. You also notice that he glares accusingly at the gas gauge, which is obviously not as close to empty as he'd like it to be.The lights of the city rush towards you. As the car slows down, you're once again able to talk. "Window-shopping!" you say. Somehow, with the present company, it sounds like a mysterious, exciting event.
He skilfully guides the car into a tight parking space, cutting the engine as you roll to a stop. "Window-shopping!" he assents. You giggle lightly, evoking one of his magical smiles.
— — —
The next hour passes very pleasantly. Arm in arm, you wander along the streets. Not in a hurry. Going nowhere in particular. You stop from time to time and comment on the items behind the glass. He demonstrates a detailed knowledge of Swiss watches, French pastries, Japanese bonsai, Indian carvings, Turkish rugs and generally has an amusing anecdote to relate to any particular store's wares.
It's a splendid, entertaining way to pass time! And it's giving you a chance to learn more about Bill's personality and background.
One particular episode gives you some insight..
You're passing by a pet shop and an adorable cutesy-wutsey itsy-bitsy puppy-wuppykins catches your eye. "Ooo, what a nice little doggy!" you shriek with delight.
Bill puts on a stoney face. "Let's move on," he grumbles.
You deduce that Bill is one of those fanatic cat-lovers. You resolve to ignore any pet shops that don't give prominence to adorable cutesy-wutsey itsy-bitsy snuggle-soft huggable playful galavanting kitty-kats!
You suddenly note that -- quite naturally -- his arm has slipped around your waist. You're walking close together, and passers-by nod knowingly.
— — —
Guess what happens next?
- I've got a good idea, but I'll wait and see.
- I have no idea whatsoever, so I HAVE to wait and see.
- We spend another hour window-shopping.
— — —
Okay, if that's what you want.
The next hour passes very pleasantly. You wander along the streets. Not in a hurry. Going nowhere in particular. You stop from time to time and comment on the items behind the glass. He demonstrates a detailed knowledge of Swiss watches, French pastries, Japanese bonsai, Indian carvings, Turkish rugs and generally has an amusing anecdote to relate to any particular store's wares.
Some of those anecdotes are starting to wear a little thin.
So, then...
— — —
You pause by a china shop. "Oh, there's a beautiful vase!" he exclaims. "Here, step into the doorway; you can see it better."
You join him in the cosy alcove of the doorway and invitingly bump your hip against him. He slips his arm around you. "I guess you can't see it better from here, after all. The lighting's terrible."
"Yes," you concur, "it's pretty dark here."
"Yes," he says, moving closer. "I don't think anybody could see anything in here, do you?"
"No, no," you reply, "I don't think that anybody..."
His lips meet yours and he holds you gently but firmly. He strokes your hair sensuously; you can barely hear his laboured breathing over the hammering of your heart. The moment builds; you want him to hold you forever and ever! You squeeze him tightly, feeling his taut muscles yield in response, bringing you ever closer.
Your emotions are in turmoil. You feel that this is happening too fast, too soon. Part of you insists that you pull away, yet ... it feels so good! You want to be cautious. But -- no! This is real! This is wonderful! You press your lips against his with strong resolve and ever-growing passion.
His grip relaxes slightly and his burning lips move to caress your forehead. He gazes down into your eyes. "Well," he says inadequately.
"Yes. Well," you agree. A sudden thought occurs to you, and you glance out into the street. "Uh, it's not as dark here as I thought."
He nods and licks his lips delicately. "Shall we go back to my car, then?"
- No, I don't think so. Get me out of this, author!
- Let's go back to the car.
— — —
You shake your head. "This is moving a little too fast for me," you murmur. "Are your intentions ... honourable?"
Bill looks at you in surprise. "Honourable? There's an expression you don't hear too much, any more. But, yes, if you want to put it that way. They're honourable. That's what I like about you: you're an old-fashioned girl at heart!"
You both continue to wander the streets until you've recovered from your moment of wild abandon. Eventually, you agree to let Bill take you home.
— — —
Standing at your door, Bill asks longingly, "Will I see you again?"
- I tell him maybe.
- I tell him that yes, you'd very much like to see him again.
- I tell him no.
— — —
Bill stares at the ground. "Oh," he mumbles. "Well, I want to thank you for a lovely evening." He holds your hand briefly, giving it a gentle squeeze, then turns and departs, a broken man.
(In case you missed it, or in case I didn't write it clearly, this is one of those situations in which "Maybe" means "No, I think you're a scuzz-bag." Oh, well. Plenty of fish in the sea, tra la la.)
(Back up a step or restart the story?)
— — —
Bill grins joyously. "Splendid! I'll give you a call!"
He gives you an hasty impromptu hug and quickly strides back to his car, bouncing on his feet with excitement. He roars off with exuberant spinning of wheels.
======================================
The next few dates aren't in this story. But I'll let you peek at the ending...
======================================
and you got married and lived happily ever after!
======================================
Great!
The End. (Back up a step or restart the story?)
— — —
Not very tactful, are we? You could have accomplished the same thing with a "Maybe".
Oh, well. Sometimes a straight answer is best.
And so it comes to pass. You never see Bill again. But you'll always remember him fondly.
( or restart the story?)
— — —
The evening's chill is setting in as you stroll back to the car. Bill draws you closer and you enjoy sharing the warmth.
The lights of San Franscisco are sparkling magically. It's as if you're seeing them for the first time. You feel full of giddy energy.
"What shall we do next?" you ask.
"A movie, perhaps?" suggests Bill.
- I agree that a movie would be nice.
- I suggest we head back to my place; there's a really good show on TV.
— — —
"That sounds like fun," replies Bill. "Ah, here's the car. What time does this show start?"
- I just made that up -- I don't have a particular show in mind.
- Hey, there really IS a good show on! I mean it! Really!
— — —
Sure, sure.
Millions wouldn't believe you.
In fact, I don't believe you, either!
Get into the car, you rascal!
— — —
You mean ... you don't really have your mind set on watching TV?
What on earth could be on your mind?
Perhaps you'd better tell me.
- Actually, I meant "listen to the radio".
- That's for me to know and you to find out.
— — —
Listen to the radio?
You're going to listen to the radio.
You and that gorgeous hunk Bill are just going to listen to the radio.
Okay, I'll take your word for it.
(Wink, wink)
— — —
Ah, but I already know! You see, I cheated! I peeked at the last chapter!
I won't give away the ending, though. Let's just say that you and Bill get --
======================================
ATTENTION! WE INTERRUPT THIS STORY TO PREVENT THE WRITER FROM REVEALING HOW IT ENDS. THIS IS NOT A NICE THING TO DO AND SHE WILL BE DISCIPLINED FOR HER APPALLING INDISCRETION AND LACK OF PROFESSIONAL PRIDE. WE APOLOGIZE FOR HER AND TRUST THAT YOU WILL NOT LET THIS AFFECT YOUR ENJOYMENT OF THE STORY. YOURS VIGILANTLY,
The Editorial Staff
P.S. WE PEEKED AT THE ENDING, TOO! IT'S REALLY NEAT!
======================================
Okay, I'm not supposed to give you any hints about the ending. Let's see what's happening back at the car...
— — —
"Let's see what else is playing," says Bill. "I mean, assuming you want to see another movie. Do you?"
- Yes, let's!
- No, so I suggest we drive over to my place to watch a good show on TV.
— — —
Okay! Let's have another look at the paper.
My, what a fine selection!
— — —
You settle into the seat as Bill cranks the engine to life. Once again, because of the noise of the engine and the slipstream, you're alone with your thoughts.
- What the heck IS a slipstream, anyway?
- I already know what it is. What am I thinking about so hard?
- I don't know and I don't care. What's on my mind?
— — —
It's the whooshing sound that the air makes as it blasts by the car -- especially the windshield, in this case.
You see, the sound is created at the pressure differential interface between the air stream and the cavitation layer.
Isn't that interesting?
- No.
- Yes! Tell me more!
— — —
So sue me! Can I help it if I dated an aircraft engineer for two years?
But I guess you're right. There are more important things to think about. Such as...
— — —
I'm glad you found that interesting. It's a very useful thing to know. Just think of all the times that that topic comes up in daily conversation.
But you can't spend your whole life thinking about such things. Right now, you're pondering something a little more serious...
— — —
You look at Bill. He's got his attention on the road (which is as it should be). There's no denying he's stunningly handsome. But he seems to have a lot of ... secrets. Why won't he talk about his parents or his ex-fiancee? Why is he so upset by certain words? Was it wise to invite him over to your place?
Presently, you arrive at your place. Bill kills the engine, slings one arm over the seat, turning to face you. "Here we are!"
- I think I'd better find out about his "secrets" before we go on.
- I'm sure he's a nice enough guy. Let's go on inside.
— — —
Bill notices your pensive expression. "Is something ... wrong?" he asks.
You clear your throat and try to look him in the eye, but you feel a little embarassed. Might he say that you have no right to pry into his personal life?
- I've changed my mind. Let's go inside.
- No, I've GOT to know.
— — —
You sigh. "No, just a little tired, I guess. It's been one of those days, you know?"
Bill nods supportively. "Yes, we all have them."
— — —
You gather your courage and face him. "Bill," you begin, "you're a very VERY nice guy. But ..."
He looks worried. You forge ahead.
"It's just that I think I've said a few things to upset you, tonight. I'm just ... uncomfortable ... thinking I might say something else about ... whatever ... you --"
Bill holds up his hand and nods solemnly. "I understand. You're right. It's nasty of me not to tell you --"
"-- no, I wouldn't say 'nasty', Bill!"
He smiles ruefully. "You're kind. But I really shouldn't keep you in the dark..."
"You want to talk about it, then?" you ask earnestly.
He takes a deep breath and exhales noisily. "Yes," he declares with sudden conviction. "I like you -- a LOT -- and I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. What do you want to know?"
You weren't expecting to be asked to conduct an inquisition, but you realize that this is simply his way of moving into the subject.
"Well, what about your parents?" you ask quietly.
He shivers slightly. "They were out one night. Walking our dog. A drunk came blasting by in his car and killed them."
You don't know what to say to that, so you give one of the usual responses. "Oh, I'm so sorry."
"Yeah." The word seems to echo in the silence. One sharp syllable, filled with sense of loss and intense pain.
He raises his head valiantly. "That's the whole story about my parents. The past is the past. What else do you want to know?"
His words sound like a defiant challenge, but you can understand his defensiveness.
- Okay, I've put him through enough. Let's go inside.
- I've got him talking; I might as well see this thing through.
— — —
"It's okay," you reply softly. "I was wrong to make you relive those painful memories. Let's go inside."
He sighs a sigh of relief, swallows hard, and manages to force an somewhat unconvincing smile. "I've always told myself: the past is the past. That's the only way you can deal with life."
He resolutely slaps the steering wheel and you can see that he has filed away the entire episode in some never-to-be-opened vault in his mind.
— — —
You're exquisitely miserable, but you decide to go on.
"Well ... your ... girlfriend?"
Bill's nostrils flare angrily. You're momentarily afraid that you have gone too far, but then you notice that he's not looking at you. He seems to be wrestling with some demon of bygone days.
"Julie --" He chokes on the name, then starts again. "Julie was a loving person. She loved everybody. Every living thing. She was too good for this Earth. That's what killed her."
You are puzzled by this enigmatic statement. Bill notes your look of incomprehension, and continues, "She loved ... too much! She wouldn't look out for herself. And that's why..." he struggles to go on "... and that's why, when she saw a little puppy run out into the street, she ran out to save it ..."
You lean towards him expectantly.
"...from..."
You hold your breath.
"...some drunken bastard in his damned car!"
- I try to soothe his pain.
- Good grief, author! This is SO melodramatic!
— — —
"Oh, I'm so sorry," you say again. This suddenly strikes you as fairly vacuous, so you catch his eye and say, "I really AM sorry. I really mean that. I wish I could say something to make you feel better. I'm really sorry that I brought this up --"
Bill states, "No, you had to know. It was IMPORTANT that you knew. I don't want my past to get in the way. The past is the past and we have to deal with it, then get rid of it."
You understand that you've uncovered his basic defense mechanism. You file this information away for later reference. For now, though, you feel his pain acutely. You reach out and touch his hand.
"Bill," you say gently, "I really appreciate the fact that you told me all this. You're honest; I really like that in a guy."
He clenches his teeth for a moment, then arranges his features in some semblance of a smile. You can see that he's masking his distress, but you also see in him the strength that enables him to deal with his grief.
"The past is the past," he repeats. He then adopts a charmingly brave demeanor. "Let's not let that interfere with the present!"
He now seems to have put the entire conversation out of his mind. Given your new insight into his personality, this doesn't surprise you. You feel that, at some later date, you'll have to lead him through this again, in order to truly put his emotions at rest. But for now, it seems that the best thing is to share an enjoyable evening with him.
— — —
Hey, you're entitled to your opinion!
Actually, it just so happens that I agree with you! Let's face it: this isn't Tolstoy or Dickens you're reading, here.
Let's not talk about MY deficiencies, shall we? Bill is hurting bad. I think it's time for you to salve his wounds.
— — —
Bill hops out of the car, not deigning to use the door. (It's a convertible, remember! He's FIT, but not fit enough to jump through a roof!)
"Let me get the door for you," he says eagerly, as he trots around to your side. Either he's a real gentleman, or he's embarrassed that the doors stick.
You take a quick, covert peek at yourself in the rear-view mirror before getting out of the car. Gad, you're lovely!
- How true!
- Yes, I can agree with that!
- No doubt about it!
— — —
That's the spirit!
Once inside, you suggest that Bill turn on the TV and get comfortable on the sofa, while you freshen up.
In the inner sanctum of the washroom, you check out your make-up carefully and verify that your deodorant and perfume are doing their jobs properly. You brush your teeth, fluff up your hair a bit, and stand back for a critical appraisal.
"Mirror, mirror, on the wall. Who's the fairest of them all?"
You say this to yourself -- not out loud. But you feel that if he'd heard you, he wouldn't have hesitated to tell you that YOU are the fairest of them all! That's how he's affecting you; he makes you feel so ... beautiful!
But your blissful mood is momentarily soured by a passing thought: What do you do now? What is he going to want from you? And when he wants what he wants will you want him to want that?
There's only one way to find out, Amy! See if you can pick the right one:
- Mail him a questionnaire.
- Go on out there!
- Lock the bathroom and hope he forgets you're in there.
— — —
No, that'll never work. Anyway, you're out of stamps at the moment.
Speaking of questionnaires, I hope you'll fill out the one that can be printed at the Help menu. I'd like to know how you're enjoying this little story of mine.
But you'll have to get out of the bathroom to do that. Go on out and find out what happens! You can mail me the questionnaire later.
— — —
Nope. Bill has a very good memory.
You'll just have to go out there and face the music.
Or the TV, in this case.
— — —
Bill looks up as you come out of the bathroom. He's got the TV on, but the sound is turned WAY down.
"What are you watching?" you ask.
"A documentary."
"Oh? What's it about?"
"Primate mating rituals."
Uh-oh! This is moving a little too fast! You think quickly. There's one strategy that might cool his jets. It's a calculated risk, but it's worked for you many times before. "I think Star Trek is on, right now..."
"All RIGHT!" he exclaims, leaping at the dial.
Yup! Worked again!
As the exploits of the Starship Enterprise hold his attention, you sit down beside him. He's engrossed in the show. A little TOO engrossed, for your taste. You wanted to cool his jets, but now he's going Warp 9 in the opposite direction.
You emit a polite little cough.
"Oh," he says, "I didn't mean to ignore you! Anyway, this is a repeat."
"No, you go ahead and watch, if you want."
Do you REALLY want him to "go ahead and watch"?
- No, I just wanted to see what he'd do if I said that.
- Sure, let him watch!
— — —
That's very understanding of you! And he DOES watch. The whole show.
By the time another aspect of the Final Frontier has been suitably explored, you're fighting an urge to bite your nails. Or maybe keep the nails and use them the way a lion would when it's annoyed.
Mind you, lions don't watch much TV.
But despite all this, you do enjoy his presence. You like watching his expressive face react to the action on the screen. It's a nice, homey scene. Just you, Bill and a bunch of people waving around phasers.
— — —
Bill turns to you. "I think it's a little loud, don't you?"
The television is barely audible. "No, it's okay." you say.
"Well, we don't want to wake up the neighbours." He turns down the volume a little more so that now, if you were to jam your ear right against the speaker, you MIGHT be able to hear what's being said. He then flips the channel a few times, finally settling on a Disco Revival Telethon. (The Big Board proclaims "HOUR 157!" and "$000004".)
He returns to the sofa and sits next to you. REALLY next to you. The almost-on-top-of-you kind of next to you. He puts his arm around your shoulder.
- His "moves" are kind of obvious!
- Is this guy ever smooth!
— — —
Hmmm. Listen, Amy. Have you ever heard the expression, "I can read him like a book"? Well, in Bill's case, try to picture a Grade-1 comic book with extra-large type for the benefit of the people with bad eyesight who like to read in the dark.
Right now, he's being about as subtle as a jack-hammer in a library.
Lucky for you, Bill is about to realize that he's coming on a little too strong.
— — —
Bill is silent for a moment. He seems to be reconsidering his approach.
His sense of occasion apparently wins out over his hormones. He gives you a little more room, so that it's now actually possible for you to breathe. His arm, however, is still around your shoulder.
- I wish he'd take it off my shoulder.
- That's fine. I like it there.
— — —
Bill notices that you are uncomfortable with his closeness. He backs off.
The rest of the evening passes very pleasantly. You can sense a animal passion in Bill, and so you're appreciative of the fact that he respects you enough to keep it in check.
Eventually, you look at the clock and say, "I guess we'd better call it a night, Bill."
— — —
The TV forgotten, you make small talk.
To call it "small talk" is a bit misleading, however. Your "small" conversation lasts something like 5 hours.
You find out SO much about him in those 5 hours! And almost all of it is good!
- Tell me the nice parts!
- Tell me the bad parts.
— — —
You find out that ...
Bill is currently doing some volunteer work to help a local hospital deal with some governmental red tape that is preventing them from opening a new wing.
Recently, Bill's poetry collection ALMOST won a very prestigious award, and about a third of the judges are lobbying on his behalf to have the results of the vote reassessed.
Bill recently saved a friend from some extremely unpleasant side-effects by insisting he consult a pharmacologist about the possible interactions of some prescription drugs he was taking.
Bill has lots of money, moves in high circles, knows all the right people, is utterly brilliant, and really wants what he calls "a girl with a good heart".
(Be sure to write letters to all your girl-friends about this, Amy. I think the basic premise of each letter should be something like: "Nyah-nyahh!")
— — —
You find out that ...
Bill once got a parking ticket.
Bill once got a SPEEDING ticket!
Bill once swerved his car to avoid hitting a pothole, and struck down a rabbit!
Bill once let somebody copy his answers in a high-school exam.
(All this might be known as "Praising with faint damn".)
- Could you please explain that last joke?
- Let's keep going, shall we?
— — —
Okay.
There's an expression: Damning with faint praise. That's when you pretend to be speaking highly of somebody, but what you actually say is so mundane that it works the other way. Here are some examples:
"She's somebody who really knows not to wear green lipstick to a funeral!"
"She never misses an opportunity to give constructive criticism!"
"She'll never turn away somebody who really begs for help."
"She will NEVER spread gossip that she doesn't think is true."
Now that that's cleared up, let's get back to the story...
— — —
It's getting late. You know you should be tired, but you feel super-charged with energy. And you DON'T want to let this guy slip away!
But ... it's late! You really should call it a night! It's all been very very nice, but ...
Oh, darn it! You've got to make a decision!
- I make it clear to him that he's welcome to spend the night here.
- This is our first date. Let's not go overboard.
— — —
Wise move! Quite often, things that seem "too good to be true" turn out to be just that!
When you arise from the sofa and tell Bill that it's getting late, he gets the point. You can see that he's trying to think up ways to prolong the evening, but ... you've made up your mind.
He can tell that you're going to stand by your decision, so he gives you a careful little kiss on the cheek, and heads for the door.
— — —
As you snuggle up to him, Bill gets your message. It's hard NOT to get your message. You're broadcasting it at 100,000 watts!
But that's good communication. Words aren't necessary.
He takes you in his arms and looks at you ever so warmly. You are lost in the sparkling pools of his bright blue eyes.
"You are SO beautiful!" he says feelingly. "I --" he falters. "I --"
He can't seem to finish the sentence. But he gathers his wits and speaks candidly. "I ... want you," he says, simply.
You worry, for a moment, not quite sure how to interpret his words. Does he want you -- for you? Or is just a physical thing?
You survey his face -- the tightened lines around his eyes, the grim desperate tightening of his mouth, the hopefulness depicted by the raised muscles above his cheek-bones.
And suddenly, you know. You know it's true. He wants you! He yearns for you. You can see in his eyes that he needs you to make him complete.
- How nice.
- Wow!
— — —
Bill senses that you don't quite share his enthusiasm and his ardour. "Don't you feel the same way?" he asks, stroking your cheek gently with his fingers.
- I tell him that these things take time.
- Oh, okay ... WOW!
— — —
Bill moves away, crestfallen. He says, "I thought we really had something good going, here."
You repeat that these things take time. He evidently understands that you simply wish to approach the relationship in a level-headed way. He nods in agreement.
Slightly stung at the rebuff, Bill rises stiffly from the sofa. "Well, I guess it's getting late." he sighs. He heads for the door.
- Hey, I didn't want him to LEAVE!
- Boy, is he ever touchy! Let him go!
— — —
Okay. I guess you're level-headed, but there's still room for a little WOW in your heart!
"Don't leave, Bill!" you exclaim. You pat the sofa beside you. "I didn't mean it like that! Let's just take things one step at a time, okay?"
He rejoins you on the sofa.
— — —
All right. You're confusing him with your mixed messages, but I think he still likes you.
— — —
Yes, WOW's the word! Remember that word! A relationship without WOW is like a day without sunshine!
Your trembling lips meet his ... and ...
ÍÍÍÍ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ °ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ ÍÍÍÍ
ÍÍÍÍ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ ÍÍÍÍ
ÍÍÍÍ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ ÍÍÍÍ
ÍÍÍÍ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ ÍÍÍÍ
ÍÍÍÍ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ ÍÍÍÍ
ÍÍÍÍ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ °ÛÛ ÍÍÍÍ
ÍÍÍÍ °ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ °ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ °ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ °ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ °ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ °ÛÛ ÍÍÍÍ
Is this guy ever a good kisser!
I leave it to your imagination what happened next.
Sure, sure, you might want to read all about it, but would you really want me standing there, taking notes?
So I don't know what went on. But there are ways I can figure it out.
The next morning, Bill was seen buying eggs and milk at the corner store. For some reason, he seemed extremely cheerful.
He was last seen heading back to your place, whistling a happy tune. People he passed looked at him rather strangely, wondering how anybody could be so full of life, this early in the day.
His mood became even brighter as he approached your door. There you were, arms open, awaiting the return of your knight in shining armour, with the eggs and milk!
I strongly suspect you didn't get around to making breakfast until noon.
(The End.)
— — —
So, you're going to go see a movie. But which one? Bill just happens to have today's newspaper in his car, and points out some films that are playing, close by.
"Which one would you like to see?" he asks.
- "Cannibal Zombies, Start Your Chainsaws".
- "Flash Jetblast Meets Dagger Lord".
- "Kute Kitty Kuddles Katches Kold in Kalamazoo".
- "The Pensive Haunting Wanderlust of the Twilight of Life".
- "The Return of the Brash Unbridled Vixen Nymphettes".
— — —
"That starts in just a few minutes!" exclaims Bill. You both jump into the car like Le Mans race-drivers and streak down the road towards the newly-built Supercineplex-57.
Outside the theatre, you navigate your way through a surprisingly diverse crowd of movie-goers. These are, no doubt, the afficionados of the "Cannibal Zombies" series, which includes such fine fare as:
- Cannibal Zombies, Destroy Your Enemies
- Cannibal Zombies, Eat Your Elected Officials
and the perennial classic...- Cannibal Zombies, Maim Your Relatives
You find a pair of seats which are (mercifully) far removed from the main mass of the audience. Here is a brief excerpt of the action on the screen:======================================
SOUND: ChuggachuggabbbrRZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!!!
VOICE: *Scrreeeeeeeeaaaaaam*
VOICE: Nyah hah haaaah!
SOUND: WhirrrrrrrCHOP!
VOICE: YeeeeaAAAaaAAaaaAArgh!
MUSIC: [Brief dramatic chord]
SOUND: ChuggachuggabbbrRZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!!!
VOICE: *Scrreeeeeeeeaaaaaam*
VOICE: Nyah hah haaaah!
SOUND: WhirrrrrrrCHOP!
VOICE: YeeeeaAAAaaAAaaaAArgh!
MUSIC: [Brief dramatic chord]
=======================================
And so it goes...
Greatly edified by the movie, you emerge into the darkened streets.
Suddenly, you hear a sound: ChuggachuggabbbrRZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!!!
Bill extricates himself from your impromptu bear-hug and dryly remarks, "Don't worry. It's just some lunatic with a tape recorder."
"Boy, some people are really SICK," you remark.
— — —
It just so happens that the theatre is next door. You stand in line amongst a few hundred acne-ridden boys -- most of whom seem to have pen protectors in their pockets. A few of them are waving calculators around, and you spot a lad wearing "Spock ears". One of the boys inspects Bill quizzically.
"You a Flashie?" he inquires in a garbled way, mouth full of candy.
Bill looks down at him. "No, this will be the first time I've seen a Flash Jetblast picture. But I've been told that it's a marvelously camp juxtaposition of the B-grade idiom and current effects-laden approaches to speculative fiction."
The boy considers this for a moment, then says, "I like the laser scenes!"
You survive considerable jostling as you manage to get a seat near the back of the theatre (very close to the exit). Let's watch the movie!
======================================
SOUND: (in the far distance) >bang<
Flash: Is that what I think it is?
SOUND: (in the distance) Bang!
Flash: I was right! Here comes Dagger Lord's Death Squad!
SOUND: BANG! BOOM! FvvvvzzzzzzzZAAAAP!!!
Flash: Look out, Dr. Jones! Get behind me, Amy!
======================================
Hey, what do you know? The heroine has the same name as you!
Back to the movie...
======================================
Amy: Oh, Flash, it's no use! We're surrounded!
Flash: (Stoically) You're right, Amy. (Shouts) WE SURRENDER!
[A panel opens in the wall and a grim, mustachioed figure steps out.]
[The audience boos lustily.]
Flash: Just as I thought.
Grim Figure: Yes, Flash Jetblast. [Pause calculated to outlast boos.]
'Tis I! Dagger Lord, Savage Power-master of Ultimate Evil Mega-Doom!
Amy: Ick!
======================================
"I guess I heard wrong," remarks Bill. "This ISN'T a marvelously camp juxtaposition of the B-grade idiom and current effects-laden approaches to speculative fiction."
"Yeah," you agree. "It's STUPID!"
"Uh-huh". You leave the movie, dodging spit-balls as you depart.
— — —
"Okay, but we'd better hurry," notes Bill. "It says here, 'Coming SOON to a theatre near you.' And it gives the time as -- only three minutes from now!"
You hop into the car and lay a little bit of rubber. "Ooops," says Bill, as a flashing red light appears in the rear-view mirror.
"Okay," bellows the officer. "Where's the fire?"
- I tell him, "The fire is the one that is burning in my heart!"
- I think I'll just let Bill do the talking!
— — —
OoooooOOooOoo! Listen, I know I'm not the world's greatest writer, but ... really! Why are you putting a line like that in MY story?
- Because it's my story, too!
- I'm sorry. Let's see if Bill can talk us out of this one.
— — —
Okay! Tell you what ... if you want to write the story, then all you have to do is buy the story-compiler program! Send $20 (certified cheque or money order) to:
P I N N A C L E S O F T W A R E
P.O. Box 163, Cartierville Station
Montreal, Quebec, Canada H4K 2J5
Didn't you just KNOW I'd figure out some way to slip in some advertising?Let's back up the story a bit...
— — —
Thank-you. You don't know how much better that makes me feel.
Let's find out how Bill handles the policeman...
— — —
Bill smiles at the officer. The officer doesn't smile back.
"No fire, sir," explains Bill politely. "I was just ... well, there's no real excuse. It's just that ..."
"Yes?" inquires the officer sternly.
"Well, we were just going to go see 'Kute Kitty Kuddles Katches Kold in Kalamazoo'".
The officer glances at his watch. "But ... that starts in only two minutes! You two had better get goin'!"
"Thanks, officer!" says Bill, waving as you roar off towards the theatre.
- Tell me more about that officer!
- Let's go see the movie.
— — —
That was no ordinary officer, you know! That was ... Sargeant Jake Barnes!
Who is Sargeant Jake Barnes?
Well! Sargeant Jake Barnes is an all-around swell guy. A real family man. Involved in the local Rotary Club. His wife does work for charity. His son George flings a mean football, and his daughter Brenda (now in college) was recently given a big award for demonstrating the link between the Theory of Relativity and the street map of San Franscisco (1972 edition).
But that's not all. Sargeant Jake Barnes seems to have an air of mystery about him. There is an element of the arcane in his manner.
And what is his secret?
I have no idea.
Just kidding! Actually, Jake Barnes is one of the world's top amateur pump experts. You name a pump: impeller, reciprocating, electrostatic, hydrofundibular, paratechnubular -- whatever!
Isn't that great? Isn't that exciting? Isn't that just ... so ...
Okay, okay, so it's not that interesting. But take my word for it: Jake is a one heck of a nice guy!
Let's go see the movie, shall we?
— — —
Dashing into the movie house, you realize that you've missed the beginning. Another couple arrive just behind you. She's decked out in furs and jewels, and he's wearing a slightly natty tuxedo.
"Damn!" he mutters. "If you miss the first few minutes you can never figure out the rest of the movie!"
"Shush, Winfrey," she advises. "Remember what the doctor said."
"What? What did he say? I forget."
"Come now. You remember: if you get upset your amnesia comes back!"
"Who are you?"
You depart from Winfrey & Wife and find a quiet seat in the back in the corner in the dark etc.
In accordance with copyright laws, I can only give you a brief excerpt of the movie. But since you and Bill are snuggling, this is about all you hear, anyway.
======================================
Kute Kitty Kuddles: Hi, Perky Puppy Poodle!
Perky Puppy Poodle: Hi, Kute Kitty Kuddles!
Kute Kitty Kuddles: Hey, let's go to Kalamazoo!
Perky Puppy Poodle: No, let's go to Pawtucket!
Silly Samuel Skunk: No, let's go to Saskatchewan!
Kute & Perky: No, YOU go there and we'll stay here!
[Much uproarious laughter from the other animals]
======================================
Suddenly, the film breaks.
Half an hour later, you both notice this and leave the theatre.
— — —
The theatre is only a few blocks away, so you decide to get a bit of exercise and hoof it on down to the movie.
The folks in line are quiet and reserved. Most of them look like they could use an antacid tablet. "What a strange bunch of people," you whisper to your date.
"I wouldn't say 'strange'," he whispers back. "They do seem pretty much lost in thought, but that's what this movie is all about..."
The ticket booth opens up and girl behind the glass somberly accepts the money and grimly proffers a movie pass to each person.
Once inside, you're struck by the brooding disposition of the other people. Something tells you that you're about to be either profoundly moved or profoundly bored.
The movie starts up. That is to say, the lights go down and there are some images on the screen. But given the content of the film, it's perhaps a little daring to say that the movie has actually "started up". Let's have a look...
======================================
IMAGE: Giant, limpid eye.
VOICE#1: Is this all there is?
IMAGE: Long-distance, inverted view of a pier.
VOICE#2: But ... who can say?
IMAGE: Swans taking to the air.
VOICE#1: THAT is the point.
IMAGE: Long-distance, inverted view of a pear.
VOICE#2: Yes, but ... CAN YOU MAKE CONTACT?
IMAGE: Same giant, limpid eye.
VOICE#1: Is THAT really the point?
======================================
You successfully fight a desperate urge to throw a tomato at the screen. Mostly because you don't happen to have a tomato with you.
You wake up Bill.
"I don't think this is really for us," you posit.
"This could be true," he avers.
You ultimately wend your way out of the theatre.
— — —
"Wait a second," interjects Bill. "A buddy of mine left the video for that movie in the trunk of my car." He flips open the trunk and rummages around. "Ah, here it is!"
"What good is that?" you ask. "We don't have a VCR!"
As you're saying this, Bill is pulling out a VCR. "I wired this to work with 12 volts. Pretty silly way to spend an afternoon, but I enjoyed it..."
This seems fairly impressive, but you continue, "Well, that's good. But we still need a TV set."
Bill stares into space for a moment. "Did I bring a branch connection?" He looks back in the trunk. "Ah, good." He pulls out a tangle of wire and what appears to be a sheet of paper.
He looks around with a conspiratorial air and waves the sheet in front of you. "I'm not supposed to show this to anybody, but ..."
With boyish exuberance, he leaps into the car and unfolds the sheet. This he connects to the VCR and the wires. The whole mess plugs into the cigarette lighter.
"There!" he announces triumphantly. "Let's fire it up!"
Well, more prophetic words have been spoken, but not recently. The whole contraption emits a vast quantity of smoke and sizzles into a blob of smelly goo.
Bill looks a bit upset. "Wait a sec ... POSITIVE is the RED wire on this thing. NEGATIVE is the BLACK wire! Hmmm. Well, let's go for coffee..."
So, you go for coffee, and chat amiably for 20 minutes. All in all, it's much more enjoyable than a movie. It's CERTAINLY more enjoyable than watching "The Return of the Brash Unbridled Vixen Nymphettes"!
By the way, when you were in the Coffee Shop, Bill got involved in an interesting philosophical discussion with somebody.
Is it likely that you would pay attention to such a conversation?
- No, I'm not interested in philosophy.
- I'm not interested in philosophy, but I'd listen anyway since it might give me some insight into Bill's personality.
- Philosophy? Yeah! I'd listen!
— — —
Well, that's okay. Philosophy is such a waste of time, isn't it?
Bill didn't notice you weren't listening, either!
— — —
You're sipping your coffee, minding your own business. Bill is playing footsy with you under the table.
Suddenly, you're approached by somebody who looks like a refugee from the 60's: longish hair, white loose peasant shirt, serious shoes -- and a flower in his hand.
"Are you ... Saved?" he asks cheerfully.
You study Bill carefully to note his reaction.
"You're asking me if I believe in God?" he says.
"Yes, that is the first step, of course," nods the missionary.
"I like to keep an open mind about these things."
"An open mind?" says the stranger. "You don't mean that you believe in evolution, do you?"
Bill ponders this question for a moment. "Let me explain my position on THAT subject." The stranger leans closer as Bill continues, "Picture the Earth. The whole Earth. With vast, rolling oceans. Soaring mountains. Trackless deserts. Mile upon countless mile of land and sea. Think of the giant forests. Think of the sprawling jungles. Are you with me so far?"
The missionary smiles and nods.
- My guess is that Bill isn't exactly going to agree with the other guy.
- My guess is that Bill doesn't like Darwin very much.
— — —
Ten points and a kewpie doll for Amy!
Good guessing!
Read on...
— — —
Tut, tut! Don't you know the #1 rule of multiple-choice questions? If you have to GUESS, always pick the longest answer!
Here's an example from a local driving-school test:
When you get to a stop sign, what do you do?- Speed up like crazy.
- Honk my horn THEN speed up like crazy.
- Come to a full stop, ensuring that my wheels have ceased turning entirely, look both ways, check the rear-view mirror, gas gauge, barometer (if available), listen for sirens, then proceed cautiously across the intersection, avoiding any squeeling of the tires.
- Take up skydiving.
If you chose #3, you're RIGHT!Back to the Coffee Shop... (read on)
— — —
"Now," continues Bill, "picture what's INSIDE the Earth. The crust. The mantle. The molten core." The stranger is looking a little puzzled, but says nothing.
"Try to hold that in your mind," says Bill. "The whole Earth. The whole vast, incredible, awesomely huge Earth. Have you got that?"
The stranger wrinkles his brow. "Yes! And it's amazing! Now, surely --"
"-- wait a sec," interrupts Bill. "I want to be sure you've REALLY got that image in your head. Have you got it?"
A long pause. "Y-yes. It's almost beyond imagining, but I think I've got it, more or less."
"Okay, then ... how much does all that WEIGH?"
The stranger is taken aback. "Weigh? What do you mean, 'WEIGH'?!?"
"How much does the Earth weigh? How many pounds?"
"I have no idea. It must be a HUGE number. What's your point?"
"There are roughly as many planets in the universe as there are pounds on and in the Earth."
"I see," says the stranger, grimacing. "This is a pro-evolutionary argument, then, isn't it?"
"Not necessarily," responds Bill.
"Not necessarily?"
"No. It's just that, with THAT many planets out there, I wouldn't be in the least surprised if SOMETHING funny happened from time to time."
The stranger smirks, nods forgivingly, and bids you goodnight.
- I liked his little joke!
- I hated his little joke!
- I question your statistics, author.
— — —
Bill catches your grin and smiles back.
"So you're an atheist, then?" you ask.
— — —
Bill notices your scowl.
"You probably think I'm a lousy atheist," he says.
"No," you reply, "you seem to be pretty good at it."
"Let me explain!"
— — —
"You shouldn't get the idea, from that little joke of mine, that I'm an atheist. I'm not. I'm not an agnostic, either."
"So what are you?"
"Well, as I said, I keep an open mind. I'm always listening to what people have to say --"
"-- Like just now?" you counter playfully.
Bill clears his throat. "Ahem. As I was about to say ... I'll take the time to listen ... unless they interrupt me when I'm enjoying the company of a beautiful girl!"
Boy, what a ham! Still ... who could disagree with the obvious?
Let's get out of this Coffee Shop before something else happens.
— — —
Well, I worked it all out on paper, so maybe I dropped a few zeros. Just because I WRITE on a computer doesn't mean I have it with me when I get these weird ideas.
Look, there are an estimated 100,000,000,000 galaxies in the universe, with an average of 150,000,000,000 stars each (give or take a few), and it's reasonable to figure that the average star has, say, five planets. So get out your paper and pencil, because most calculators can't handle a number as big as 750,000,000,000,000,000,000.
Now somebody once told me that if you could weigh the Earth, it would tip the scales at 6,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 tons. Get a fresh new sheet of paper, and figure out that that means it weighs 12,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 pounds. (And you worry about your diet!)
So what does this tell us? It tells us that Bill was WRONG! (Hey, you don't think I'm going to take the blame, do you?) He was off by a factor of a million or so, if those estimates are accurate. Of course, those estimates are probably off by a factor of a million, so he can still argue the point. Unless you have an irresistable urge to be smug about all of this.
But I still think you should forgive him. After all, he grew up in Europe, so he thinks in metric. Kilograms, not pounds. So he made a little boo-boo.
Let me put it this way: the universe is BIG. Really, REALLY big. But then, you've probably heard that one, before.
Let's see what happens next...
— — —
With caffeine coursing through your veins, raising you to new heights of peppyness, you decide to return to the car.
Now, you'd think that the car would be a mess, considering the conflagration that had transpired half an hour ago.
No need to worry! Russian agents have stolen the glop that resulted when Bill crossed his wires!
Just think! Russian agents have stolen the secret of the ultimate flat-screen video display! What will they do with it?
No need to worry. Right now, they're having their minds turned into a somewhat similar kind of glop. They're watching "The Return of the Brash Unbridled Vixen Nymphettes"!
— — —
