Doctor Who-20th Anniversary Redux

A little late, I had originally intended to release this back in spring, but other projects distracted me. No time, time, time, time…

…Oh no, not again!

…No time like the present

Password: timetimetime

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Bob’s Burgers-Full Speed Ahead

belchers

BOB’S BURGERS

FULL SPEED AHEAD

WRITTEN BY ZARIUS


Rudy dashed across the halls of the school in pursuit of his quarry.

Full speed ahead.

A sharp pain coursed through his chest.

He hadn’t slipped, he hadn’t tripped on his own laces, and it wasn’t his usual sort of allergies or anxieties taking hold of him as was his daily lot in life. It wasn’t even a real, physically taxing sort of pain, it was an emotional flutter.

He seemed very in control at this particular moment. Something had destiny written all over it.

This was his one moment in time. His eleventh hour.

And it was going to hurt like hell.

“Don’t do it Louise” he yelled as the troublesome young Belcher darted through the halls with her brother Gene and headed towards a familiar site.

“Someone smash the monitor, we’re surfing the stairwell” Louise yelled, “A prize cash for anyone who grabs him”

That was the kind of offer that motivated every lazily minded lout hanging around their lockers, and the meatheads and jocks all headed in Rudy’s direction.

Rudy eyed up his obstacles and made contact with what wasn’t there.

Someone always had to spread their legs when forming a human barricade.

He sneered and quickly executed a baseball slide between the empty space underneath the largest jock and emerged on the other side too late to prevent Louise and Gene climbing the stairs and preparing to slide down the banister.

This time Tina wasn’t there, she was monitoring Zeke as he entertained his grandmother back at the home, making sure he came back to school afterwards.

This was all on him now, he had to look out for Tina’s sister, and he had to make his hero proud of him.

As the siblings slid down the banister, Rudy leapt in and held out his hands as the full force of Louise’s frame crashed into his body, sending both reeling backwards. Rudy stood his ground, knowing if he fell to the floor he’d look humble to the rest of the gathering student body.

Gene came down next, Rudy motioned to push Louise out of the way so he could catch him, but Louise instead gave him a commanding look. Rudy nodded, and allowed Louise to catch her brother as he dived straight into them.

“I hit a girl” yelled Gene, punching the air in triumph.

“Now that’s the sort of abuse I can take” Louise remarked, patting Gene squarely on the back.

“Alright, you two are going to detention” said Rudy, “Louise, Gene, I’m gonna have to take names”

“You know our names already, in fact you just said them” insisted an annoyed Louise.

“It’s the system” Rudy insisted.

“A system that plays down what just went up” said Gene.

“Just give me a speeding ticket and I won’t do it again” Louise replied.

“Dang, my fountain pen isn’t working” Rudy replied, he asked Louise if he could borrow hers

“No” she said

“But it’s mine, you borrowed it a week ago because you snapped your pencil trying to pull out the built-in eraser at the back of it with your teeth” said Rudy.

“I’ll give it to you if you dash through that jock’s legs again” Louise remarked, and complimented him on his speed.

“That was pretty fast” Louise said, “What do you have? God speed or something?”

Rudy couldn’t answer; he was feeling a tight and fierce compression on his chest.

This time, it definitely was the physical sort of pain. The impact of both Belchers had proven too taxing.

“Oh god, Rudy, speak to me, are you ok?” a panicked Louise asked, squeezing his right hand.

“That’s ok, I feel total and complete relief…” he said as he tried to reach into his pocket for the inhaler, Louise helping him.

“…Because you’re ok” Rudy finished, his hand steadily losing his grip on the inhaler as he took it out

Louise smiled tenderly and took the inhaler from Rudy’s weakened grip and placed it into his mouth.

“Breath deep and inhale tough guy” she said, Rudy did as instructed.

“Gene, I don’t think I want to go down that thing again, that ok?” Louise asked, learning her lesson as she bore witness to the price paid.

“I’ll fly solo, and shoot first” said Gene.

Louise soon slid something else along Rudy’s wrist,

“What’s that?” He asked

“Friendship bracelet. Tine gave me it after I helped her with her dorky scout business. You want it?”

“Why?” Rudy asked.

Louise huffed and folded her arms.

“Gee, I don’t know, maybe because you’re my buddy you dork” she said, elbowing him on the right shoulder.

“Louise, you put a hit on me” Rudy reminded her.

“And you took a hit for me, even after all that” Louise added.

“Point taken, I guess with God’s speed comes God’s mercy. Did I blaspheme? Oh no, I totally did” he said.

“You’re hell bent on going downstairs aren’t you my little cupcake?” Louise asked, gently stroking the top of Rudy’s head.

Rudy kept his thoughts of this to himself, knowing Louise would probably recoil if he said anything too soft.

Louise could tell what he was thinking, and a part of her was already kicking herself for thinking the same things in return, another part of her was urging her to speak them.

But they were kids, this was school, and there was so much more to learn.

If there ever was such a thing as divine intervention, it was making its influence known now. There would be time in the future for their little slice of heaven.

For now, both hoped the road ahead would be a hell of a crazy one to travel down.

Full speed ahead.

Danger Mouse-‘Till The Cows Come Home

DANGER MOUSE:

TILL THE COWS COME HOME

Disclaimer: Danger Mouse (2015) and all trademarked characters are property of Fremantle Media and CBBC


Is that wicked Weevil gone?

“Yes, narrator” said DM.

Really? You promise?

“My word is my bound” assured DM.

Good.

Now that it’s safe to come out again, let me be the first to congratulate you, the reader, on surviving the relentless mystical onslaught of the Queen of the Weevils with the rest of us. That witch was a handful, oh if only I hadn’t been narrating that flashback, she may never have been imprisoned in the first place.

“Yes, but if this Dangerous Muppet over here hadn’t reassembled the crystal she had been trapped in, she wouldn’t have gotten out” replied a very badly tempered Professor Squawkencluck.

“Let’s be reasonable people about this Professor, there’s always two sides to every story” said DM.

“Yeah, and you’re the type who’s stories always stick out at the sides” noted the Professor sarcastically.

“At least the whole experience made a believer out of you right Chief?” said DM’s trusty assistant Penfold.

“He’ll believe in a whole different sort of world than that of magic once he looks into my eyes and asks me an honest question…whatever happened to my Conveniantium handcuffs?” asked Squawkencluck, her face glowing a crimson red.

“Ah yes, I was just getting to that, I wouldn’t want you to be cheesed off Professor” joked DM.

“Now’s not the time to play the clown Chief, you already did that on Monday remember?” said Penfold, trying to calm the Professor’s nerves by taking her red hot hand and dampening it with a cold wet sponge.

“Yes, well Professor, all I can ask you to do is wait until I’ve prepared a full and reasonably logical answer”

“You had until the cows came home” said the Professor, “That was Tuesday. This little crisis aside, you’re out of time, and I’m just about to nip over to the Baron’s cell and ask him directly what happened to the handcuffs”

“Look, why don’t I make both of you some piping hot cups of Tetley Tea?” asked Penfold.

“Product placement now Penfold?” said DM.

“At least products know their place” snapped Squawkencluck

“Oh crumbs Chief, can’t you two ever get along?” replied a frustrated Penfold, folding his arms and tilting his head up and frowning.

“Are you turning your nose up at us?” asked DM.

“Never mind, I’ve got it” said Squawkencluck, and pinched Penfold’s nose with her right hand.

Penfold instantly embarked on a panicked dash across the room, wondering just where his nose had gotten to, still unable to comprehend that it was still attached to his face.

Squawkencluck allowed her eyes to roll over at the sad sight in front of her.

DM, however, could detect she was enjoying it.

“I couldn’t help but notice how playful you were with Penfold today Professor” DM observed.

“Don’t push those buttons DM, we’re all professionals here, I have little time for opening up in that way around you, him, or anyone” said Squawkencluck.

“You saw fit to tell us about your fear of clowns, so that disproves that” said DM.

“Ok, so I like to pick on Penfold, at least he’s more amusing than the everyday migraine I get from you. Satisfied?” asked the Professor as she walked over to Penfold.

“Very, now are you going to reattach his nose?” asked DM.

“Are you going to tell me where my handcuffs are?” asked the Professor.

“I’d rather milk that for all it’s worth” said DM.

“You’re trying to give me clues to the explanation in your jokes aren’t you?” asked the Professor, gently pulling Penfold close to her and placing her hand on his nose, giving Penfold the illusion of having restored it.

“I should never underestimate your powers Professor” said Penfold.

“And I should not underestimate how impeccably skilled your best friend is at evading the simplest questions” said Squawkencluck

“Professor, I think that’s udderly ridiculous” said DM.

Suddenly, the holographic projection of Col. K illuminated the room.

“We’ve got dire problems DM, there’s been a looting at a Turkey airport”

“Don’t you mean Turkish airport Colonel?” asked DM.

“No, a Turkey airport, one of the species-specific terminals that just opened up in the city, we need you to get back their valuables”

“I’m on it Chief” said DM, promptly darting out of the room.

Before Penfold joined him, he gave the Professor a thumbs up.

“Next time we have a conversation, he’d better not be talking turkey” said the Professor.

“It’s probably for the best you take away the source of his sense of smell if you smell something very fishy” said Penfold.

“You know, Penfold, you don’t have to take my magic tricks at face value” replied the Professor.

“Then where does the fun go in magic if you don’t embrace the illusion as if it were reality?” asked Penfold, “You can take my nose any day, because I trust that your helping hand will put it right back where it belongs”

With that, Penfold dashed out of the room after the Chief, leaving Squawkencluck feeling much better.

In the meantime, I, your humble narrator, am glad the evil Weevil Queen has been sealed off and placed within the badge attached to DM’s whimsically white attire.

I’ve seen worse places she could have ended up in.

It could have been a Blue Peter badge.

Star Wars-Force Awakens Test

Thought I’d try something fun with Force Awakens. The idea was to switch certain scenes around to create a more captivating sense of mystery and urgency regarding the situation. I feel opening the movie on Poe’s interrogation is a good way of setting that up, and BB8’s introduction is more interesting to the viewer because we don’t know what this droid is doing out in the desert, finally (and this will require a lot of editing), we show how the horrors of war drives Finn to do the right thing as his squadron rein down destruction on a  village (with Poe and BB8’s involvement removed, this is not reflected in this sample though, it stops just before they land)

Ignore the fact I have no opening text crawl, It’s something I’m very useless at and may request help on it at Fanedit.org.

Password: star

Trust In The Hand

 

 

Snakes can harm us tender souls
Their bite is fierce and all seems grim
We question where their poison comes from
What keeps their venom in
For those who trust more in God’s nature, science just won’t do
They seek answers within their souls, and what thier words say to you
So if you believe in a mighty hand, reaching down with blessing
Trust in that hand to keep you close, and the serpent’s bite will lessen

Up Above The Beetles

 

UP ABOVE THE BEETLES

There had been a nagging thought sitting in the head of a young tender upstart of a thing as it paced up and down a garden centre stationed in the middle of nowhere, or anywhere that wasn’t where he wanted to be.

He fancied a stroll along the beach.

But that wasn’t the issue.

No, this thought occurred to him just as he spotted a beetle darting across the clear pavement.

It was the second creature he’d spotted that day. The first had been a robin. Tiny little thing.

He didn’t have this thought with that. He’d never allow it.

With a beetle, and with any insect, the thought persisted.

The thought that puts you between roles.

Roles that were vast and simple.

The simple action of the common man, acting with senior authority of a commanding God.

A God who need not say a word to cast judgement, and end days, short as they were already, for the insect.

It took but a simple step.

 It had to be quick, mind you, for the insect wasn’t going to just take a rest, they never do. They are always scurrying. Always.

You had to be sharp, make your decision within the time frame allocated, place that bold step forward, and smite the insect with all your might.

That’s the thought that persisted.

And it always did.

The boy fancied himself a good soldier, a servant of something he deemed fit to be God.  He likes to think he shared some kind of communion with it, or him, or her, or all three.

There wasn’t such a clear way of identifying it.  It had no shape, it had no number, nothing came before one, but people often say in circles a God is the one above all, so it can’t be nothing.

And yet others say the universe came from nothing.

What came before nothing? Was there a number nobody knew about?

That was the scarier thought, one that did not persist as much, but on this warm sunny summer day, it was all the boy could think about.

A number with no brand, no visibility, no shape.

No way of being judged.

The boy let the beetle scurry away, too distracted by all the other joyous thoughts he’d allow to process, thoughts that he was paranoid would be clouded by thoughts pertaining to what he’d been taught by the word of God, by the word of his parents, that life was sacred, and to take any life, ANY life, not one excluded, would see you judged, on the day you passed, or even, if you happened to be Stateside, were made to pass on.

The boy shouldn’t be thinking this way, he was too young.

But that’s just it…we’re all too young at this stage, aren’t we?

None of us have lived millions of years, at least not in our physical manifestations, no; no we live for the tiny little moments and to embrace the vast and simple notions that shape us as numbers of varying shape and stature

It’s just to take a bold step forward, and not step on something in the process.

No matter how small in importance it is, and how it may impact the waking world.

It is, after all, a number.

A number with shape, size, scale. Branding.

One.

That which you believe in, it has no shape, it has no number, it’s above that, it’s above all things. It leaves an impact on you, and you’re content with that, you want to feel good about that, you don’t want to cheat it; you don’t want to disappoint it.

And so the thoughts turn to simple things again, and the boy’s parents drove him home, and the boy thought to himself, ‘I could really fancy a stop by the beach’

And when the car drives past the beach, and that opportunity passes, he thinks to himself ‘was that because I complimented stepping on the beetle? Was that why my parents didn’t decide to stop for a bit and let me have my fun?’

Thinking it was one thing, saying it to a parent was another.

And so the boy asked when being put to bed, first he asked the mother, and she didn’t know what to make of it, so she asked the father, and he didn’t know what to make of it.

All they knew was the boy had spared a life.

And they were proud of that. They let him know they were proud of it.

And the boy went to bed feeling good about himself, feeling something had compelled him to show mercy that day, something trusted him that day.

He liked to think  the shapeless number, the one beyond or behind all recognizable numbers, was one worth counting towards, or very likely counting backwards to, so he too could be ultimately counted. To be said to matter in the final analysis.

For each step forward takes us back to these thoughts, these snap judgements of our own, it all comes back to the word of God. Which God you ask?

The one above the beetle or the one above the child?

Is there a difference?