Untitled thing.

Int. A small seminar room, quiet and with little distractions. There are 3 people on a small table, each doing various bits of work. NICK is sat next to LUCY and opposite them on the table is KEN. (With me so far? Good? Good.)

Nick
Seven squared?

Ken
Forty-nine.

Nick writes this down

Nick
Fifty-five divided by eleven?

Ken (Raising an eyebrow)
Five...

Nick writes this down

Nick
Seventy X divided by twenty X?

Ken
...Malcolm X.

Nick writes this down. Lucy on the opposite side of the table looks up, bemused.

Nick
The root of six thousand?

Ken
Beirut.

Lucy
Nick, you are aware what he is doing?

Nick
Why yes Lucy...yes I am.

Nick shows his notepad to Ken, “YOU’RE A TWAT’ is written in capital letters.

Ken
Well...at least you managed to spell ‘you’re’ correctly. What’s up with that work anyway, it seems a bit too easy and/or patronising for university.

Nick
It’s a ‘maths refresher’. We’re meant to do some stripped down basic sums to remind us of the ‘beauty of maths’.

Lucy
Is that like The Power of Love?

Ken
Huey Lewis and the news, or Frankie Goes to Hollywood?

Lucy
What’s the difference?

Ken (air-quotes)
The type of ‘Love’ involved...

Nick
I don’t see the point of this; I don’t care for the beauty of maths.

Ken
Nobody does. The only people who care for the beauty of maths, let alone use that phrase ‘non-ironically’ make chairs out of skin.

Lucy
At least the angles would be accurate...

Ken
Ooh, well played.

We hear a door open and GID appears, he throws his bag onto the table.

Gid
Shit. Shitting shit! Shitting shitballs.

The Screen freezes, the boss music from Mega Man 2 plays (youtube it) and the words “GID” “CURRENTLY ANNOYED” appear.

Ken
That’s very upbeat. What’s up?

Gid
Hamlet! Again! Sodding Hamlet, I’ve done Hamlet the past two years, yet once it appears in the curriculum like a fucking poltergeist. Seriously, if I have to do any more Hamlet I will, appropriately, kill myself.

Ken
Context relevant...

Gid
I hate Hamlet more than the degrading remains of Saxo Grammaticus.

Nick
Isn’t that a car manufacturer?

Gid
He’s 12^th century Danish Historian, Shakespeare ‘borrowed’ a lot of his story elements. See! See what it does to you! You know that idea that new knowledge pushes something else out? That’s what is happening, I know that bloody fact which will appeal to Danish people, lecturers, and Danish Lecturers, but it’s probably meant I’ve now forgotten something tedious and minor but to me, incredibly important, like secondary Batman Villains or how fast it took the Millennium Falcon to do the Kessel run.

Ken
The what...run?

Gid (Despair)
I don’t know!

Lucy
At least you haven’t spent the past 2 months watching ‘Crash’ for your media course.

Gid (Sitting down)

Isn’t that the racism movie?

Ken
I imagine it’s a bit more ‘in depth’ than that.

Lucy
No, Gid’s absolutely right. It spends 2 hours telling you how all races are equal, and that hey...black people aren’t bad! And Latinos aren’t lazy, and white people aren’t all racist. And then you’re supposed to be surprised and awestruck at this knowledge, even though it’s common sense. It’s the most patronising, smug piece of crap I will ever see. I expected it to end with Ebony and Ivory playing at the credits. Although, I now hate racism more than I did before, so it had a positive effect on me. Urgh!

Gid
So...apart from my Shakespearean contempt and Lucy’s ‘after school special’, what are we all up to?

Ken
I’m just killing time till my next seminar.

Nick (head in his work)
I’m learning about the beauty of maths...

Gid

The beauty of maths? Don’t people who say that make chairs out of-

Ken
We already discussed that.

Gid
Oh, right.

Lucy
Have you seen Kenneth Branagh’s version of Hamlet? It’s 3 hours long, but really good. We watched it last year in theatre. Although not as good as the Romeo and Juliet with Leonardo Dicaprio.

Ken
What happens in that version?

Lucy
He does things....in a shirt. I think that outweighs the fundamentals of it.

Gid
How generically ‘woman-like’.

Nick
Isn’t Kenneth Branagh the bad guy in Wild Wild West, with the metal legs?

Gid
It’s a shame your first port of call for Kenneth Brannagh is a film with a giant metal spider...

Nick (oblivious)
Will Smith did the sound-track!

Gid
That is true...

Lucy
It’s amazing how you can be so...simple Nick.

Gid
Well it’s an odd world...we’ve got wars, paranormal events, and people who find it perfectly acceptable to give Gwyneth Paltrow an academy award.

Ken
What for?

Gid(Contempt)
Shakespeare in Love.

Lucy
Ooh, full circle.

Ken
That beat Saving Private Ryan for best Picture...just let that sink in.

Gid (Starts off accusatory, shifts into depressed)
It’s sad how that affects you...and me for that matter.

Nick (in his work)
Isn’t Saving Private Ryan based on a true story?

Ken
Not really.

Nick (lifting his head)
Yes it is...world war 2.

Gid
Ooh, reversal.

Lucy
Hey, can we even be in this room?

Nick
Nobody’s here.

Ken
Evidently...

Gid
Yeah, when you text me, I found it a bit odd. But whatever, I’ll just blag it...

Lucy
You’ll blag it?

Gid
Yeah, anyway, why this room?

Ken
We all sort of just had time to kill and the door was left open so, why not?

Gid (raised eyebrow)
Why not?

We hear a door open and a voice off-screen say ‘hello?’. Gid shrieks and flails dramatically (GET IT?! GET THE COMEDY THERE??!)

Ken
Can we help you?

Girl at door
Is this the spelunking club?

The group look at each other awkwardly for a few seconds.

All at once (Minus Nick)
No.

Nick
Maybe.

Girl at door
Oh right, never mind.

She closes the door and leaves.

Gid
We have a spelunking club? When did this happen?

Lucy
What’s spelunking?

Nick
Cave exploring, odd because she seemed too attractive for it.

Ken
I don’t even think that’s a stereotype.

Nick
Name one attractive cave explorer, apart from Lara Croft.

Ken
I can’t even name one cave explorer full stop, and you know...that’s never kept me awake at night.

Nick
I reckon I’d make a good cave explorer, and we were talking about WW2 earlier, I reckon I’d be pretty good at that aswell.

Lucy
Really?

Nick
Me and Tom Hanks, taking down Nazis, I’m pretty sure that’d be great.

Gid
Even I could kick your arse.

Nick
Oh yeah? Please explain.

This next bit will make a lot more sense if you’re a fan of Hong Kong Cinema, but...deal with it. Nick and Gid, on opposite sides of the table, now wearing shades, both draw guns in a very obnoxiously ballet-esque slow motion. (Easy to film, I’ll make sure of it)
Cut back to Gid thinking and then Zach.

Zach
Were you thinking the same as-

Gid
John Woo movie?

Zach
John Woo movie.

Lucy
John Who?

Nick
John WOO.

Lucy
That’s what I just asked!

Gid
Don’t do this to yourselves...

Lucy
I have no idea what you guys are on about.

Nick
You never have any idea-

Gid
Stop it!

Nick
Stop what?

Gid
That...that back and forth ‘whimsy’ snappy dialogue...it’s like a tedious sitcom. Except you two lack the necessary sexual tension to be entertaining, that said ee all know that sitcoms are ruined after the two leads do it. Under no circumstances should they, apart from the expected pornographic parody. My flatmate bought one as a joke, and let me tell you, everybody certainly does love Raymond.

Lucy
The Frankie goes to Hollywood kind?

Gid
If only...wait..that didn’t come out right.

Ken
You know that an in-depth discussion about something quite thin and low-brow, like a sitcom, is a staple of most sitcoms...so you’re not doing yourself any favours.

Gid
Alright ok from now on, let’s just do some work. No catchphrases, no wacky over the top shenanigans, let’s just be boring meat-and-potatoes individuals, no stereotypes or whatever.

We cut to somebody standing near the table, wearing a backwards hat and a manner of ‘wacky clothing’.

Stereotype

He’s damn right, Ri-dunk-u-lous!

Cut to black

Gid (Voice only)
Right, I’m leaving.

We hear the door close, and a few seconds of silence.

Lucy
Everybody else can see this guy right?

Nick
I’m sorry...who are you?

Ken
Just be quiet, maybe he’ll leave.

Roll credits.

After credits sequence, we see the back head of a soldier crouching on a sloped hill on a field, (Easy to film, just need to get some props for the top half of the two guys). We hear his voice off-screen and then see NICK awkwardly clamber into show in front of him.

Nick
Tom... Tom... Tom! Tom hey! Isn’t this war crazy, by the way, I loved Forrest Gump!

Cut to Black, we hear an explosion

Nick( Slightly flustered, but nonchalant)
Oops, Shrapnel.

Show Lutube TV logo, AND END.

Oliver Twists town of bloody awesome.

Oliver Twist opens his windows as the morning breeze beats outside, the sun punches him in the face with a glare far removed from the soot ridden shag rug that we’re used to, with the occasional bursts of fleeting yellow, like a squatters arse above us as he periodically farts out sunny delight....so yeah, it’s a nice morning. This morning is a bastion of utter emotion tickling joy, in a world devoid of hopeless feebs and Jersey Shore. Oliver Twist looks outside and sees all manner of passerby and whimsical salesperson, and then BAM, they all start dancing, not as if some hilariously inappropriate coincidence, but a full on Broadway chorus with impressive simultaneous choreography as if such giddy moves are a natural part of everybody’s DNA; as opposed to the image of an ironic dictator forcing the populous to perform these routines vigorously at gunpoint...that’s a tad bleak for Oliver Twist’s BLOODY AWESOME MORNING. But amongst this saccharine drenched cascade there’s presumably one solitary individual who stands taken aback, shrugging their shoulders as they walk awkwardly past and muttering to themselves ‘Shutup...shutup...shutup’.

"Shut your goddamn mouths you whimsical shits"

That bedraggled ‘fish-out-of-water’ of ineptitude is usually me when I’m out.
I’m not saying that any town I’m in is a whimsical carousal of sugar-coated fun, but it may aswell be when I’m there.
This general dislike isn’t based on anything other than my own beleaguered awkwardness, which I’m sure quite a few people get, the sort of feeling you get around large groups of people that deflate your self esteem and give you the demeanour of a tight-lipped serial killer amongst a crowd or a midget at a stilt convention.
Perhaps it’s to do with own awkwardness around people, put me in a room full of folks and I’ll become some awful guffawing ‘aw-shucks’ bullshit ‘class clown’, all the while wanting to punch myself in the face. I hate the term class clown; it often denies some ‘zany’ prick that won’t shut his mouth and farts loudly before blaming somebody else to chorus of idiotic applause. But as is my personality, I’ll automatically put on a completely different front because I’m ‘delightfully befuddled and as self criticising as any neurotic Woody Allen character.’...urgh. CHARMING STUFF INNIT?
Anyway, yeah back to town. I was about 4 minutes off the bus when I saw a man that can only be described by the term ‘brick shithouse’, he must have been as wide as a garden shed and as tall as one of the smaller idols of an Egyptian god. Alongside him, off a leash was perhaps the largest dog I’ll ever see, it was essentially an Alsatian bred with a bloody panzer tank, it’s teeth were the size of dinner plates and I’m pretty sure it had a small boy wedged between its mouth. But somehow, nobody apart from me found this as slightly out of place, everybody took it in stride as if this was a swords-and-sandals Schwarzenegger movie.

It was also October the 30^th yet I saw plenty of people dressed in Halloween costumes, when did this happen? When did we start celebrating an event the day before, thus ruining the actual ‘specialness’ of the day due to our own impatience? As I was queuing in McDonalds (It’s as if somebody constructed a building out of a nervous breakdown and seething hate) somebody came up behind me dressed as a vampire and proceeded to be a complete and utter tit in the queue; odd, I don’t recall McDonalds ever selling pints of blood or fair haired virgins. Something that got my attention though, was when McCount Dracula lamented to his friend‘I wish it was Halloween everyday!’ which, ignoring what a logistical nightmare it would be, opened up plenty of bloody amusing scenarios in my head whilst I queued. Imagine David Cameron addressing the nation as Worzel Gummidge or JFK getting shot whilst dressed as the ham-burgler by a ‘Charlie Brown’ attired Lee Harvey Oswald, it’d certainly make crime-watch far more unintentionally hilarious than it already is, no mean feat.

"Let's take the open roof today Jackie"

Speaking of Halloween, the cash point I needed to use was surrounding by a group of awful 14 year olds as, presumably, one of them had got their first debit card and they were apparently so ‘like totally stoked man’. They cordoned it off for about 5 minutes wailing and flailing their arms like some pre-pubescent un-dead horde fighting over the entrails of some poor bastard. It’s a tad depressing though to see their exuberance over this; unaware of the incredibly stressful emotional synapses that will break and tear in later years due to the very thing they were so excited over, money. This of course made me chuckle.
To be honest I don’t know where this rant’s going, I’m probably like one of those crotchety old men who yell at pigeons for no discernable reason other than the fact they exist. So yeah, town makes me awkward, people make me awkward, and any activities that don’t involve breathing out of my nostrils make me awkward. And to be honest there’s a small part of me that thinks everybody else feels the same, everybody and their horrifyingly large dog.
Why are you even reading this? It’s a lovely day go outside.

Ryu's day off 'to-do' list

• Wake up in clothing from past 4 days. Only change clothes if player presses X or Y.
• Make a sandwich. Try to enjoy sandwich but become weighed down by the crushing knowledge that my sandwich making skills just aren't good enough and I must push myself harder with regards to aforementioned sandwich making skill.
• Delete insulting facebook messages from Sagat.

"You are a fag-TIGER!"

• See Ken.
• Begrudgingly agree to watch 'Dog the Bounty Hunter' with Ken
• Constantly refuse to high five Ken during 'Dog the Bounty Hunter'
• Be bemused at why 'Dog' simply does not shroyuken these criminals.
• Yell "DOWN, DOWN-FORWARD, FORWARD PUNCH" at fanboys in the street.
• Try and swap theme music with Guile. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jLJLyneZGKc)
• Call Dhalsim 'Stretch Armstrong' on forums. Feel pride at such an original insult, then proceed to make jokes about him giving people 'strangers'.
• Remind self that Sakura is 16.
• Pilgrimage around Japanese mountains, harnessing power and chi from nature in order to forward my own inner peace and self preservation.
• Continue not wearing shoes.

I did this about 3 years ago..

...Discuss..

It took a good hour...

Underwhelming Movie death.

This might be a regular feature, I don't know.

I watch a lot of films and I'm easily enraged in a pedantic lonely manner so I guess this could work.

ANYWAY, I was watching Mission Impossible 3 a while back and one of the characters died such an UNDERWHELMING DEATH (*Sitcom audience cheer*) That I felt compelled to complain in a blog to about 4 people, I'll explain why, also there's spoilers here...so..you know...either watch the film or wikipedia it if you don't want to be a pithy whine.

Anyhoo, the character in question is the main antagonist is Owen Davian played by award-vacuum walrus in a sock looking Philip Seymour Hoffman.

"AROOOOOOO..I'd like to thank the Academy"

Now Owen Davian, apart from having a name like the..'questionable' member of a boyband, is an effective, well played character and in all accounts an unquestionable dick. He kills Ethan Hunt's protege, kidnaps his fiancee and threatens to kill her, and at some point probably finds the time to illegally download episodes of 'Shot of Love with Tila Tequila'

ANYWAY, the death itself. Right, so we've had 2 hours of Davian being a collosal arsehole and he finds himself in a fist fight with Hunt. Also worth a mention is that Hunt has had a bomb detonate in his brain that means he is writhing with agony at a blinding noise of intangible pain.

Kind of like listening to Poison...

Anyway, Davian and Hunt find themselves scrambling awkwardly throughout a Chinese street, with Hunt managing to hold his own and still kick ass, but it looks like Davian has the upper hand and Hunt needs to come up with something, anything to make it out alive, so what does he do?!

.....Bugger all. Absolutely nothing, because Davian gets hit by a car whilst Hunt rolls out the way.

A car.

He gets hit by a car.

No luck or skill or Action hero-esque smarts involved, just shit perception to acknowledge incoming traffic.

Needless to say, WHAT THE HELL. I just spent 2 hours seeing this guy carving his own tombstone for one hell of a brutal and well deserved send off, and what do I get? A bloody PSA, a sodding short minute film they show in assemblies so kids look both ways before skipping into traffic.

I demanded more, I needed some sort of send off that Davian deserved, a gunshot and a witty quip, an ironic death, or maybe even Hunt nailing Davian to a chair and making him watch 'Cocktail' till his blood ejected itself through every available orifice like a punctured sewer pipe.

"Where's the plot?! OH GOD WHERE'S THE PLOT?!

So, to alleviate some amount of lonely, LONELY rage I have, I have written an alternate and probably far more awesome send off.

We see Hunt and Davian in an abandoned factory, Davian has Hunt at gunpoint and is edging towards him.

Davian: It's over Hunt, looks like you won't be killing anybody today...except those henchmen of mine, and your friend who was a mole in the government...ok, as from this moment onwards, you won't be killing anybody today..because you'll be dead. By me. They should never send a boy to do a man's mission....IMPOSSIBLE THREE!.

All hope appears lost, but Hunt spies something in the corner of his eye and begins to laugh.

Davian: What's so funny Hunt?

Hunt: You don't know?

Davian: Know what..?

Hunt: Oh, I thought that you XEE-KNEW!

Hunt pulls out a copy of Dianetics from under his shirt and tosses it at a metal container above Davian, releasing the angry thetans from millions of years prior who ensnare Davian and drag him upwards towards a celestial ship that has appeared as he screams in fury, yet his logic and scientific reasoning do nothing as he is pulled inwards and all is quiet.

Hunt: Looks like that wasn't Impossible....MISSION IMPOSSIBLE......THREE!

*80s freeze frame as the credits roll over 'Pour some Sugar on me'*

So...far superior right? I eagerly await Hollywood's embrace.

Also generic Scientology jokes never get old.

Superprickery

“What do you call a Geordie superhero?”
Silence and anticipation loomed, the reveal taking as much time as it needed to unveil itself.
“Why-Aye Man”
BAM! Laughter, raucous, life affirming delicious, nutritious vitamin filled laughter flooded the auditorium. Two thousand voices joined together in a delightful harmony that’d make even the Bee-gees think about packing it in.
Wade Whitman was a comedian; he’d been one of the greatest comedians in the world for the past decade, just behind George Bush and tonight demonstrated why. His dry British wit, insightful musings and ability to make people chuckle to no end was something he’d most been proud of in life and it created one hullaballoo of a show and the atmosphere was electric; no seriously, literally electric, there were a lot of faulty wiring problems...quite dangerous actually.
BAM ANOTHER JOKE!
BAM! BAM BAM! He didn’t relent with the torrent of humour.
“Doves mate for life....must take a while”
LAUGHTER! BAM! WHAM! ZAMBOOZLE! This was one hell of a show and numerous subjects were touched upon, as Wade bobbed and weaved into various areas.
“I think the only chances of me getting married are if I have my wife shipped from overseas, and learn English from a crude cassette tape. No seriously folks, I’ve been single for so long even my right hand’s stopped talking to me”
Self deprecation always seemed to hit home, and Wade absolutely nailed it, like a lovable tramp musing on his failures in life.
Wade was about to go onto his routine about obesity, something that’d been hugely successful the previous shows this tour before suddenly becoming deadly silent. He could sense something wasn’t right, and it was unrelated to the itch at the top of his thighs, that was just generally awkward.
The floor began to shake aggressively, lights spasm-d on and off and the very floor itself began to crack and strain and towards the middle of the auditorium the floor rose between the aisles, it pushed upwards like that chestburster scene off Alien, except with concrete and carpet replacing skin and Sigourney Weaver. A hand punched through the floor and dragged part of it down as it pulled up the body attached to it, this most certainly wasn’t part of the show, but Wade knew what was coming, he had suspected as much this would happen.
The figure that had rudely interrupted Wade’s show pulled itself from the crater that now lay in the auditorium; he was a tall lanky figure wearing what only could be described as brightly coloured red rags and blue, like a rainbow crossed with a homeless person. He had a beard clung to his face with all the strength and determination of a midget at a urinal whilst he had eyes that were gateway to sheer unbridled hatred and evil, like a window at the Rooney household.
He rose fully, broadened his shoulders and pointed at Wade.
“Well Sarcasm-man, sorry to DROP IN!” He hissed with a generic ‘prickish’ voice.
Wade hesitated for a few seconds, a flurry of expressions running across his face, anger, frustration, puzzlement, deep thought, basically everything but arousal really. He then rose the microphone to his mouth and grinned.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, my arch nemesis...the comedic Terrorist.”
Silence as members of the audience began to wonder if this was part of the act, Wade began to talk, as if delivering a comedic monologue.
“Yes, It is correct, I AM the superhero known as sarcasm man, for all 6 of you in the audience who still don’t know this. The comedic-head terrorist over here is my arch nemesis, also kudos for messing up the intro pun there fella, his powers involve being a general unfunny prick who can do supervillain-esque stuff. Also as demonstrated when he entered, he isn’t funny, at all... In the slightest.”
The comedic terrorist advanced forward and raised his fist.
“After constantly being foiled by you Sarcasm man, I have finally resolved to my most cunning plan yet. To humiliate you...in front of a paying audience!” His laugh roared, full of malice and hate.
Wade raised an eyebrow.
“How...do you plan on doing this?”
“By having a JOKE OFF of course!”
Wade fell to his knees and imitated shooting himself, he banged the microphone against his head and muttered to himself.
“Oh sweet holy hell.....really? REALLY?! I mean seriously? This isn’t an 8 mile rap battle; I will actually physically decimate you. You’re the Nazis and I’m the Russians here pal. I’ve got more lines than Pete Doherty’s coffee table”
The comedic terrorist launched himself into the air and levitated above the terrified, yet oddly intrigued audience members.
“You’re scared. You know I’ll win SarGAYsm man. You suck at most things, you fail at comedy and women hate you!”
Wade leapt to his feet, visibly agitated.
“HEY! Like Me in relation to those women, that was not called for. Fine...go nuts, whatever”
The Comedic Terrorist descended to the ground and leapt onto the stage opposite Wade, he spread his feet and thrust his finger at Wade.
“Your mother...is so fat, that it’s a serious health risk to her!”
Quiet silence, no response, even tumbleweeds would feel ashamed to drift aimlessly in this awkward silence.
Wade rolled his eyes.
“Your mother is so fat, she fell down the stairs and I thought Eastenders had finished”
The crowd roared hard. Even the fear of a subpar super villain holding them hostage was overwhelmed by that zinger.
This back and forth continued relentlessly for a good...oh 15 minutes, Wade getting the upper hand over every single joke Comedic Terrorist could muster up.
“You suck so hard, that things stick to you easily” The Comedic Terrorist spat out, still revelling in the applause he imagined in his head.
“Just give up seriously, you’ll never be half the man your mother is” Wade sighed.
The crowd hollered and hooted and all manner of verbs Dr Seuss probably used, the comedic terrorist looked around exasperated, he realised he could never win this and did the only thing he could logically think of, burn the crap out of things.
He raised his arms and screamed, shards of flame sprang out of his finger tips and sped towards Wade. Would he be able to escape them in time?!?!....
....Yes, obviously....he’s a superhero.
Wade dashed out of the way and the flames simply hit an usher, no problem there. Not the artist called Usher...although he had a song called burn, so that’d be kind of ironic wouldn’t it?
ANYWAY, Wade was now in Sarcasm-man mode and strode towards the comedic terrorist and pulled his arm back.
“Here’s the punchline”
His hand connected with the comedic terrorists jaw with the sort of strength and violence only reserved for ex wives of OJ Simpson, resulting in him speeding upwards and crashing through the roof, until he resembled a small blip in the sky.
Wade sighed and silence ensued for a few seconds before he grinned and turned to the audience, he raised the microphone.
“Well, I’ve had some heckles in my time...”

Nania part 2

The elderly welcoming party beamed at Eric and Shawn as they walked towards them, one of the taller women began ruffling Eric’s hair, dishevelling it further. What a fun word, Dishevel, in fact we hardly ever use ‘sheveled’, just think about that. Eric snapped and batted her away
“Stop your irritating politeness! We’re not children, we’re adults, albeit with the mindset of somebody suffering middle age”
The smallest woman spoke.
“Are you two just visiting then?” She sighed
Shawn hesitated “....Yeeeeeeeees”
“Oh never mind, fine go about your business. We were expecting meals on wheels or a visit from our relatives” She rolled her eyes, specifically at Eric for some reason.
“That seems kind of redundant, what with you living in a different world accessed through cheap badly made furniture. Surely it’d be easier to at least establish some sort of reliable transport system between the two worlds” Eric’s suggestion of a cohesive inter-dimensional travel seemed far too high brow for such a simple parody. One of the elderly men grabbed his braces and raised his eyebrows.
“Well we tried that, but we didn’t trust them foreign builders, and getting English workers is mighty hard I tell you”
“You’re mighty hard” Shawn spat out
“Excuse me young man?”
“Sorry, knee jerk reaction. You were saying?”
An awkward silence crept over the conversation as both parties stared at each for a very uncomfortable amount of time, almost uncomfortable as this excessive ellipse use I will now use..............................
.......
The smallest woman broke the silence, like she’d kung fu chopped it, or something funnier than that.
“So are you boys courting?”
Eric raised his eyebrow, bemused.
“Pardon?”
“Are you boys dating?”
Eric once again raised his eyebrow.
“Like...each other?”
“No, no do you two boys have any women in your life?” She probed
Shawn responded with a nod.
“Yeah I’ve got a girlfriend, Eric doesn’t.”
The elderly woman took a step back and became defensive.
“You’re not one of them...queers are you?”
Eric was obviously pissed off, some old midget woman had accused him of being gay, and he would not tolerate this!
“Dear Zeus no I’m not, and you don’t even know me old woman, ok so step off. I have no qualms with beating a woman in public. I will literally murder your face off”
One of the old men spoke “What about the pub?” And was promptly ignored.
Shawn turned to Eric with a look of disdain.
“Did you just say ‘step off’? Wow. Not even Ice-T says that...”
The old man spoke once again ‘I’d like some Iced Tea” and was once again promptly ignored.
The elderly woman seemed to ignore this threat and laughed to herself.
“Well, we’ll leave you two boys to get your bearings. We’re just a in a small village beyond those trees over there, you should see a sign that says ‘no solicitors’, that’s us. To the west of us is the Co-op in the great mines, and over there is the black tower.” She pointed to a shape in the distance, a large space black obelisk that stabbed the winter sky, a contrast to the white vegetation that lay scattered about. “The black tower is where the enemy of the elderly lives, and we urge you to avoid it, like we avoid having any respect for those younger than us. And with that we must depart, Bergerac starts in 20 minutes and we’d hate to miss it”
And on that unsurprising note the elderly group shuffled back through the forest towards their village on the other side, leaving Eric and Shawn alone in the snowy clearing.



“We have to go to that dark tower” Shawn exclaimed
“Why? The old midgets said it’s inhabited by the enemy of the elderly” Eric replied...replyingly.
Shawn beamed, “And you know what that is?”
Eric paused for a second, stroked his chin and then raised his hand.
“...Harold Shipman?”
“No! Rock and roll! Although that was kind of close, oddly enough”
“I think I’m gonna head back home” Eric stated.
“BUH?! Why? Why why?”
“Because I’m not about to wander some fantasy-esque winter woodland to a dark tower on the spur of the moment, I am cold dammit! If I go back then at least I can come prepared with like...a coat and a thermos next time.”
Shawn sighed and pointed an accusing finger at Eric, like a cheesy cop movie.
“You know, it’s no wonder you’re awkward and boring and single. You refuse to have any ounce of fun or even live a little.”
“That is not true, I was perfectly having fun eating my tuna sandwich and watching Dawn of the Dead!” Eric yelled, his voice soaring above the snow drenched trees like a runaway weather balloon containing an American boy, only he wasn’t in there all along. I can’t even believe it was news, so what if some stupid American child was trapped on a weather balloon, ok, that’s called natural selection. Anyway yeah, Eric was pissed off...and stuff.
“Eric come on, stop being lame. Maybe if you started taking risks you wouldn’t be so unattractive to women”
“That’s uncalled for, come on”
“It’s true. Hell, you spend so much time in the friend zone you should buy a FUCKING VILLA THERE!”
Eric stared at his feet for a second, and looked up expressionless. He spoke quietly and without any anger
“You’re right, but that’s who I am, now I’m gonna head back. I’ll see you in a bit I guess”
He turned around and moped off back the way they had came from, Shawn opened his mouth but thought it was best to leave him be, he then began to make his way towards the dark tower in the distance.
After about 5 minutes Eric arrived at where the wardrobe was, and by ‘was’ I literally mean ‘WAS’, as it was no longer there. Eric hastily looked around, the footprints ended there so he was in the right place, but the wardrobe itself was nowhere to be found, like WMD’s in Iraq or humour in American Sitcoms. He ran his hands through his hair and groaned loudly.
“I’m never gonna be able to eat my fucking sandwich” He muttered before turning around to catch up with Shawn.