As Bella stared out the window into the moonless night sky, she could not help but think about Edward. She thought longingly of him; where was he, what could he be doing right at this moment? Bella was of course thankful for the friendship and protection that Jacob and his friends had provided, but this was not enough. The Cullens had become Bella’s family and she wished to see them and be with them once again, if only for just one more time. But in her heart of hearts, she knew that none of the other Cullens really mattered; her absent love Edward Cullen was the only thing that mattered in the world.
As she sat there, hovering between fantasy and reality, she faintly heard what sounded like a knock on the door. Shaken from her daze, she walked downstairs and to the door to see who it could be. She wasn’t expecting anyone and in fact believed that she would be completely alone for the night. However, as she walked toward the door, her spirits started to lift with thoughts that maybe, just perhaps this could be her love Edward returning to her.
Overtaken by these hopes as she arrived at the door, anxiousness found a strong grip upon her, causing her to momentarily struggle with the locks. After what seemed an eternity to her of trying to negotiate this barrier between herself and her love, she finally opened the door. She had to squint for this was the night of the new moon and so this celestial body afforded no help in illuminating the dark sky. But then finally a tall figure walked toward the door.
But Bella quickly realized that she had no idea who this person was who entered the home. However, she certainly recognized the two figures that he carried, one in each hand. In one hand there was Jacob, and in the other hand, there was Edward, her true love. They both appeared to be completely lifeless and as this man tossed them effortlessly upon the floor, Bella could see that neither gave a hint of stirring. Stunned, she finally looked up at the man and asked, “Who are you?”
“My name is Viktor, but I shall do the talking now,” he said. “These pathetic abominations are what pass for vampires and lycans these days?! This weakness that has pervaded both species while I slept is unacceptable. I shall rally my Death Dealers and put an end to this debasement that has occurred to the immortals.”
Trying hard but unsuccessfully to fight back tears, Bella said, “He’s…he’s not moving… Did you kill Edward? Did you kill them?”
Viktor replied, “I did not give you permission to speak. But I will answer your question because you’ll be dead just as they are soon enough. But wait, perhaps I should grant you immortality, though you are not nearly as attractive or tough as my beloved daughter Sonja or my dear Selene. Perhaps you can be trained… I did kill them because they were weak. That vampire, and I hesitate to call him such, was a disgrace. He clearly spent more time applying makeup to his face and putting product in his hair than he ever did training to destroy the lycans!”
“But, but…” Bella stammered, now fully in tears.
Viktor continued, seemingly ignoring her, “I shall once again make the Death Dealers a force to be reckoned with in this world! We will hunt down these wretched cereal box-vampires and make the species strong once again! And we shall exterminate this pathetic rodent-like strain that these lycans have become. My old foe Lucian, I am thankful that you did not have to live to witness what has become of your brethren…”
“What, what…” Bella said, stunned.
Viktor now turned his attention back to the young lady and with his fangs elongated approached…
Epilogue: And what became of Bella next? The answer is unclear, but also irrelevant. Viktor, long thought dead, was able to reassemble his race of Death Dealers and was able to lead them, quite effortlessly, in wiping out the weak vampires like the Cullens that had infested the world. He then just as easily led them in destroying the lycans forever. With the task complete, Viktor sat upon his throne and contemplated his accomplishment. He thought about the ease in which it was all done (only taking eight days), and briefly longed for the time when he truly faced a formidable challenge.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
The Subterfuge - Part XVIII
We’re just moments away from the opening bell pitting East versus West. In the red corner, the newcomer on the championship boxing scene, standing 6’5”, and weighing in at 261 lbs is the imposing cyber-trained boxer from the Soviet Union, Ivan Drago! And in the blue corner, the heavy weight champion of the world, hailing from Chicago, Illinois, standing 6’1”, and weighing in at 235 lbs, The Southside Slugger, Clubber Lang!!!
Confused? Unsure about what is to take place and whether this scene is reality or fantasy? Perhaps it has elements of both. And it certainly has elements of the unknown (for you). But soon enough such will not be the case. For soon you will know the answer to the question: what if Sylvester Stallone had not created and starred as the Rocky character in the movies Rocky III and Rocky IV and thus created the completely implausible scenarios in which Rocky Balboa defeated Clubber Lang and Ivan Drago?
Several weeks ago…
While taking a hiatus from boxing for the time being, Clubber Lang was doing what he ordinarily does when not training for a fight, moonlighting as a soldier of fortune in the Los Angeles underground. For those who had a problem for which no one else could help, and if they could find them, Clubber Lang was part of a team that was for hire. But on this day, the team was gathered around the television watching what was sure to be an epic fight between Apollo Creed and Ivan Drago. The team, perhaps out of a deep feeling of patriotism, hated the Soviets and all Communists and so was firmly in the corner of Creed.
But Apollo was not the first choice to battle Drago. The Soviets had sought out the champion of the world, Clubber Lang, but could not find him. Not being able to land Lang, and rather than going with a fight with Rocky Balboa, the Paper Champion, Drago’s camp arranged to fight Apollo Creed, the Master of Disaster and the Count of Monte Fisto. It was not entirely clear why Creed had Balboa in his corner. Many speculated that it was because Balboa was annoyed with constantly having to deal with his whiny wife’s complaints about how her first husband used to beat her and how her brother had had him killed and all kinds of silly stuff that Balboa was never able to completely verify. It was theorized that Balboa finally got sick of it and just needed to get out of the house for a while.
As the Creed-Drago fight was soon to begin, and as Clubber Lang and his team kicked back to watch, all of a sudden the team’s pilot stood up and started screaming hysterically and pointing at the television. When the rest of the team turned to look, they simply saw that the camera was focused on Drago as he was preparing for the opening bell. But it soon became clear that the rest of the team would not be able to ignore the pilot forever, and so they turned the volume all the way down on the television and listened.
What the pilot said largely made no sense, but they could make out the words power, grey, skull, power again, and the pilot kept insisting that Drago had a sword. And the pilot also stated that Drago had spoken all of this in Russian. After clearly giving too much attention to this madness, the rest of the team finally came to their own senses and did the right thing; they gagged and tied up the pilot and focused on the fight.
Soon after the fight began, the team could see that something was going wrong. Creed was getting pummeled by Drago. And then in the second round, Drago knocked Creed down and out forever. Clubber Lang jumped out of his seat and yelled, “Nooooo! It should have been me that beat that has-been Creed!”
To be continued…
Addendum: After watching the rest of the coverage on television where it was confirmed that Creed was dead, the team got around to untying the pilot. As soon as he was no longer gagged, the pilot blurted out, “See, I told you! He took out his sword and pointed it at Apollo and a ray beam shot out at him and Apollo turned into a ferocious green tiger with armor and sharp teeth. Then he, man, he hit him with the sword and Apollo the green tiger went to sleep.” Clubber Lang then punched the pilot.
Confused? Unsure about what is to take place and whether this scene is reality or fantasy? Perhaps it has elements of both. And it certainly has elements of the unknown (for you). But soon enough such will not be the case. For soon you will know the answer to the question: what if Sylvester Stallone had not created and starred as the Rocky character in the movies Rocky III and Rocky IV and thus created the completely implausible scenarios in which Rocky Balboa defeated Clubber Lang and Ivan Drago?
Several weeks ago…
While taking a hiatus from boxing for the time being, Clubber Lang was doing what he ordinarily does when not training for a fight, moonlighting as a soldier of fortune in the Los Angeles underground. For those who had a problem for which no one else could help, and if they could find them, Clubber Lang was part of a team that was for hire. But on this day, the team was gathered around the television watching what was sure to be an epic fight between Apollo Creed and Ivan Drago. The team, perhaps out of a deep feeling of patriotism, hated the Soviets and all Communists and so was firmly in the corner of Creed.
But Apollo was not the first choice to battle Drago. The Soviets had sought out the champion of the world, Clubber Lang, but could not find him. Not being able to land Lang, and rather than going with a fight with Rocky Balboa, the Paper Champion, Drago’s camp arranged to fight Apollo Creed, the Master of Disaster and the Count of Monte Fisto. It was not entirely clear why Creed had Balboa in his corner. Many speculated that it was because Balboa was annoyed with constantly having to deal with his whiny wife’s complaints about how her first husband used to beat her and how her brother had had him killed and all kinds of silly stuff that Balboa was never able to completely verify. It was theorized that Balboa finally got sick of it and just needed to get out of the house for a while.
As the Creed-Drago fight was soon to begin, and as Clubber Lang and his team kicked back to watch, all of a sudden the team’s pilot stood up and started screaming hysterically and pointing at the television. When the rest of the team turned to look, they simply saw that the camera was focused on Drago as he was preparing for the opening bell. But it soon became clear that the rest of the team would not be able to ignore the pilot forever, and so they turned the volume all the way down on the television and listened.
What the pilot said largely made no sense, but they could make out the words power, grey, skull, power again, and the pilot kept insisting that Drago had a sword. And the pilot also stated that Drago had spoken all of this in Russian. After clearly giving too much attention to this madness, the rest of the team finally came to their own senses and did the right thing; they gagged and tied up the pilot and focused on the fight.
Soon after the fight began, the team could see that something was going wrong. Creed was getting pummeled by Drago. And then in the second round, Drago knocked Creed down and out forever. Clubber Lang jumped out of his seat and yelled, “Nooooo! It should have been me that beat that has-been Creed!”
To be continued…
Addendum: After watching the rest of the coverage on television where it was confirmed that Creed was dead, the team got around to untying the pilot. As soon as he was no longer gagged, the pilot blurted out, “See, I told you! He took out his sword and pointed it at Apollo and a ray beam shot out at him and Apollo turned into a ferocious green tiger with armor and sharp teeth. Then he, man, he hit him with the sword and Apollo the green tiger went to sleep.” Clubber Lang then punched the pilot.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
The Subterfuge - Part XVII
This is a big week for goats as I’m sure everyone is aware that the movie The Men Who Stare at Goats opens in theaters across the country on Friday. Well, I don’t know a whole lot about the plot – I have shied away from reading any reviews for the film thus far, lest the movie be ruined for me before I have the opportunity to watch it – but from watching the commercials, things don’t go particularly well for the goats. It seems that there are individuals in the movie that have the ability to stare at goats (and hence the name of the film) and have the goats drop dead. Poor goats…
This was unacceptable to me because as you are well aware, I have a huge admiration for goats. So I’ve decided to retell a more uplifting tale of goats, if you’ll indulge me. There once were three goats called the Three Billy Goats Gruff. The Billy Goats Gruff were of varying sizes, and one day the smallest of the three wanted to cross a bridge so that he could eat the grass on the other side. The problem is that there is a powerful troll living under the bridge who eats those who attempt to pass. But this smallest of the Billy Goats Gruff was really hungry and so he approached the bridge. Sure enough, the troll emerged and threatened to eat the goat. The goat, thinking quickly, convinced the troll that he was too small and that the troll would much prefer to eat his bigger goat brother. So the troll allowed the goat to go. Similarly, the middle sized goat approached the bridge and was stopped by the troll and pleaded that troll would much prefer to eat his larger brother. The troll allows this goat to pass as well. Soon the largest of the goats approached and again the troll jumped out, but rather than talk to the troll, this largest goat gored the troll and let him fall into the river. The largest of the goats walked across the river to join his brothers in eating the grass.
Now we’ve always heard that this was the end of the story, but this is utter nonsense. And so the story continues… Soon all of the other goats, not just the Three Billy Goats Gruff, crossed the bridge to join in the delectable grass. However, this is what the troll had planned all along. You see, this was a magical and clever troll (as most trolls are) and certainly couldn’t be outsmarted by creatures such as goats who routinely faint when afraid. After all of the goats were across the river, the troll calmly stood up from where he had fallen in the river. He then stared at the bridge, causing the bridge to explode. The troll was a little bit dejected about losing the bridge under which he had lived for a long time, but he knew that he had gained so much more: an almost unlimited buffet of goats.
Journal Entry: And in another alternate ending to this story, the third of the Three Billy Goats Gruff did actually kill the troll (in this case the troll wasn’t magical because you can’t kill a magical troll) and walked across the bridge to join his brothers. The smaller two goats were of course overjoyed that the troll was dead. However, the largest goat was quite a bit pissed off at his brothers for having sent the troll after him and so he chased them off (or gored them, I can’t remember this part of the story exactly) and enjoyed a life of eating grass all by himself.
This was unacceptable to me because as you are well aware, I have a huge admiration for goats. So I’ve decided to retell a more uplifting tale of goats, if you’ll indulge me. There once were three goats called the Three Billy Goats Gruff. The Billy Goats Gruff were of varying sizes, and one day the smallest of the three wanted to cross a bridge so that he could eat the grass on the other side. The problem is that there is a powerful troll living under the bridge who eats those who attempt to pass. But this smallest of the Billy Goats Gruff was really hungry and so he approached the bridge. Sure enough, the troll emerged and threatened to eat the goat. The goat, thinking quickly, convinced the troll that he was too small and that the troll would much prefer to eat his bigger goat brother. So the troll allowed the goat to go. Similarly, the middle sized goat approached the bridge and was stopped by the troll and pleaded that troll would much prefer to eat his larger brother. The troll allows this goat to pass as well. Soon the largest of the goats approached and again the troll jumped out, but rather than talk to the troll, this largest goat gored the troll and let him fall into the river. The largest of the goats walked across the river to join his brothers in eating the grass.
Now we’ve always heard that this was the end of the story, but this is utter nonsense. And so the story continues… Soon all of the other goats, not just the Three Billy Goats Gruff, crossed the bridge to join in the delectable grass. However, this is what the troll had planned all along. You see, this was a magical and clever troll (as most trolls are) and certainly couldn’t be outsmarted by creatures such as goats who routinely faint when afraid. After all of the goats were across the river, the troll calmly stood up from where he had fallen in the river. He then stared at the bridge, causing the bridge to explode. The troll was a little bit dejected about losing the bridge under which he had lived for a long time, but he knew that he had gained so much more: an almost unlimited buffet of goats.
Journal Entry: And in another alternate ending to this story, the third of the Three Billy Goats Gruff did actually kill the troll (in this case the troll wasn’t magical because you can’t kill a magical troll) and walked across the bridge to join his brothers. The smaller two goats were of course overjoyed that the troll was dead. However, the largest goat was quite a bit pissed off at his brothers for having sent the troll after him and so he chased them off (or gored them, I can’t remember this part of the story exactly) and enjoyed a life of eating grass all by himself.
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