At the time of this writing, I don't know what it is that will be the cause of my demise, but as I write in every update of this letter, I can only hope that it will be the noble death of a warrior. When the sole purpose for one's existence is to be a soldier, a soldier's death is the only one befitting him. I hope, insomuch as someone like me can, that nobody else but me will ever see the contents of this letter but if that is the way it turns out, then that, as they say, is that. My existence is a mystery to me, my first memory will not be much different than my last, I suppose. We have existed for such a short period of time as a race that our full capabilities will not be known for sometime yet. I have yet to hear of any of my people dying of old age and to be quite honest, I do not yet know how my body will age with time. We are born and bred, so to speak, to be warriors and that is the definition of my existence. I have thoughts in my head sometimes of living a life without a sword in my hand and a bow on my back, but I don't know yet if that will be possible. The war is over but the world is not safe, danger has lurked around every corner for my entire life. The desire to live a life away from all of that seems so distant that it's hard to think about.
I have finished some business and am hoping to start a new chapter in the city of Sharn. It is a bustling city and has been known to be home to many of my people, as House Cannith has an outpost here and as the creators of my kind, I am naturally drawn here. Many of my kind have chosen a life of darkness, embracing their role as pure warriors at all costs, sometimes even to the degradation of their own souls. I hereby state that we, as Warforged, owners of our freedom also own a soul, just as all other peoples in the land. I made a decision at one point to do good, to not follow the path of that abomination the Lord Of Blades and his kind, as I do not possess a desire to gain power at any cost. I have, at times, been forced to face my own kind in matters of life and death and fortunately I prevailed. But extinguishing the life of my own kind is not what I hoped to be doing with my freedom. I hope to embark on a new adventure from this point. I hope to gain a little bit more knowledge about my kind and work toward advancing my people's place in this world. My final thoughts at this time, as I sit in the public market and experience the city moving around me, are those of a man, yes, a man, who hopes to open this letter and update it at another time and place with more knowledge, more experience, and a more advanced place in this world. If I never update this letter, so be it. Live by the sword, die by the sword. My name is Ell. Don't forget me when I'm gone.
Monday, October 21, 2013
Sunday, October 20, 2013
New Music: BANKS and The Blow
I've been pretty obsessed with the L.A. based singer BANKS lately. Dark electro-pop goodness. I'm not much of a music reviewer, but check her out. Also, here's a dope spotify playlist from her that also contains James Blake, The Weeknd and Drake. If you know me, you know I was shitting my pants when I first played it.
The Blow also came out with a new album that is self-titled, late career S/T albums crack me up. It's dope though and I recommend checking it out as well. If you have Spotify follow me and I've got these playlists up. Or don't... is that a weird thing? Am I asking for creepers? Do I care?
The Blow also came out with a new album that is self-titled, late career S/T albums crack me up. It's dope though and I recommend checking it out as well. If you have Spotify follow me and I've got these playlists up. Or don't... is that a weird thing? Am I asking for creepers? Do I care?
Mondays are for Chaos
So I run two groups of D&D and my group that meets on Monday officially became bad people about two sessions ago. When they created their characters, the Lawful/Chaotic distinction kind of put them off. Not wanting to pigeonhole themselves, they all chose Neutral. This is understandable to me, but after a couple of months of murder and mayhem it's time to call it. They've gone to the dark side. Here, I'll give a brief run-down of the events that lead up to this decision:
- They met outside a burning inn and immediately decapitated and placed the heads on spikes of the kobolds who burned said inn.
- Robbed the wizard's house in the first town they visited, fled into forest.
- 3 die in forest, remaining two duel over belongings of everyone. Halfling leaves victorious and loot laden.
- Group meets back up in town after some hand waving resurrection that the Halfling is still pissed about, group murders more kobolds, revenge cited as reason.
- Halfling strangles street tough in broad daylight.
- Group flees murder charge across ocean, gets involved in Thieves Guild and starts race riots (against kobolds). 3 days of fire and carnage follow.
- After things die down they pull off massive heist of a bank and become rich as fuck.
- Group tries hand at dungeoneering, sacrifice all of their henchman, Halfling almost becomes wereboar.
- Group flees across ocean again.
- They meet tribal peoples, don't immediately kill them, but instead argue for 30 minutes over creating a slave trade.
- Raid on Imperial outpost 1 goes off way too easily, group super confident. Sends heads and testicles back to the mainland.
- Raid second outpost with help of druid/panthers. These troops have done nothing to them, just happen to be from same country where the Halfling is wanted for murder.
- Ambushed at third outpost, 45 minute argument about creating slave trade again.
Anyway I think this is enough. They now have at least 3 factions that could feasibly be hunting them. I'll give them one thing, they make my job easy.
Brie Larson's Feet
Working at a movie theater you might be surprised to learn I get into a lot of conversations about movies. These conversations inevitably lead to arguments about who was in what movie or who directed which trilogy or whatever. When this happens I immediately go to the internet to resolve the argument because I am determined to prove to everyone involved that I am right. I am rarely right. In one of these conversations the actress Brie Larson was brought up and I can honestly tell you I still have no idea what she looks like. I had to search for her to find out who she was, and I think she was in Scott Pilgrim and possibly played Ruxin's au pair in The League. Now to the title, whenever I search an actress' name within the top search suggestions is the option for "[Actress' name]'s feet." I find this hilarious, but a little disappointed because part of me knows it's probably for normal, sexual reasons. I like to dream that maybe it's just some large group of aficionados of shoes or the platonic aesthetics of feet.
Whatever reason here's an RPG table:
What's Up With That Foot Cult? (Roll d6)
Whatever reason here's an RPG table:
What's Up With That Foot Cult? (Roll d6)
- Guild of Cordwainers who are searching for the perfect pair of feet to adorn with their prized relic and leadership to bring about the return of personal luxury leather shoes.
- Minor politicians and upwardly mobile middle class leaders operating a not so secret foot fetish club rotating nightly between each other's houses and you just found the invitation with tonight's address.
- An Elk's lodge type thing. The foot fetish as mascot was a joke proposed long ago and now it has taken on a ceremonial significance most serious.
- A group of misguided architects looking for inspiration in all the wrong places - notably by kidnapping young people and cutting off their feet to trace the arches.
- Halfling worshiping hippies who drink and smoke all day while proselytizing the joys of bare feet.
- A mad wizard who is searching the world for the latest incarnation of the Traveler or similar god whom he believes can only be found by studying the dirt gathered in toenails. (Bonus points if you decide to use The Traveler from TNG, the weirdo.)
Fun Fact: Brie Larson's Feet was almost the title of this entire blog, but we decided that wasn't a great long term name.
Sunday, October 13, 2013
Movie Review: Escape From Tomorrow
The easiest way to describe Escape From Tomorrow would be: David Lynch does Disney World. There is all manner of evil and debauchery here behind the curtains at the happiest place on earth, problems that manifest as visions (or are they?) as well as physical ailments on one man having a very bad day in his already shitty life. He is married to a woman ("She's pretty in an Emily Dickinson sort of way") who barely tolerates him and his beer belly & Hawaiian shirts. He's the kind of guy who gets bullied by his kids. He's on vacation with his family in Florida when he gets a call from someone telling him he has been fired from his job doing who knows what. He leaves that information for a later time, wanting to let his kids enjoy one last day of vacation before they head back to who knows where. His wife nags and cuckolds him, not even giving up a kiss while enjoying a leisurely ride through the world of Winnie The Pooh. On the monorail into the park, the first hint of lechery seeps out of Jim (Roy Abramsohn), whose face devolves into a slimy grin when he sees two young, flirty Parisian teenage girls who giggle and flirt their way into the debauched mind of the bored, middle-aged, horny Jim, whose wife and kids are sitting right next to him. The strange journey that he goes on while not-too-stealthily following the two girls around the park ("Daddy, why are we following those two girls?") only begins on that monorail and doesn't end until Jim really sees what goes into making the happiest place on earth and what happens when you don't heed the warnings and blindly try to enjoy yourself.
Did I mention that this is for all intents and purposes a comedy? Writer/director Randy Moore gets plenty of shots of all the things that you see in a place like Disney World (Disney is only uttered one time in the film and it gets bleeped out); sneezing, coughing, hacking old men, obese Southerners in scooters eating chicken, lots of vomiting, lines that go for hours only to finally arrive at the cars and have the ride shut down. However, in this context, they're humorous, and watching our Jim try to navigate the sea of people and fake happiness lets us enjoy it instead of be victim to it. Moore and a small crew shot the film over a series of trips to Disney World and Disneyland and shooting among the crowds with no interruption from cast members. Abramsohn, on a recent episode of Doug Loves Movies, noted that that method was possible because the grounds are so hectic and there are already so many people with cameras that one or two cameras filming a family didn't raise any eyebrows. He noted that while Disney never gave permission to shoot there, they are aware of the film and are not going to plan any kind of interference upon its release. If they were remotely concerned about Escape From Tomorrow, the film would have never seen the light of day.
Perhaps the most interesting aspect of Tomorrow is the fun it has at the expense of Disney and its properties. Animatronic figures and beloved characters devolve into demonic creatures that start to unravel Jim's already fragile state of mind. A sultry woman sharing a bench in a playplace with Jim tells him over an oversized Emu drumstick as their kids play with each other that all the princesses are in fact high priced call girls and that Asian businessmen pay handsomely for private time with them. Jim witnesses this first hand and what starts out as a fun photo op for he and his son turns into a vulgar display that Jim can't believe what his eyes are seeing is actually happening. Another scene has fun showing us what really goes on inside that big Epcot globe ("It looks like a big testicle"). However, the more bizarre stuff is what really makes it interesting. A nurse clinging to the edge of her own fragile state of being, Jim's lust for the Parisians (as well as the effect they have on his young son) and their overt sexuality and infatuation with various phallic objects around the park, the threat of Cat Flu and a sinister plot involving naked women and the Siemens Corporation provide plenty to enjoy and ponder. The entire film is in black & white and it creates an eerie mood and even makes Disney janitors seem menacing. Having all the color and cheer taken out of the park makes it easier to see the weird and the creepy that is lurking in the shadows. At least for Jim. Everyone else seemed to be having a good time, and why wouldn't they, who doesn't love Disney World? Seeing Disney push a man to the brink of sanity is worth the price of admission alone. If David Lynch or David Cronenberg did tackle a project like this, it would be better and would bring the weirdness and quality to the next level but for now, we can enjoy this unique film and be glad that Disney is letting us.
It's A Popularity Contest
When we watch TV, those of us who are elitist pop culture aficionados, we seem to always be watching stuff that’s on the verge of cancellation or on the fringes of the ratings scale. We all pined for Arrested Development when it was prematurely shut down before it could even get through a full third season. But it went out like a champ, at least creatively, and reemerged seven years later as one of the most anticipated television events of the year. Among a very small portion of the population. So small that none of the networks wanted to touch it all this time so it had to go to the at-the-time uncharted waters of Netflix. Supposedly it caused a huge spike in subscriptions for Netflix but they don’t have to report their viewership so we don’t really know if that’s true. If we go on Twitter or talk to our friends or read blogs from people who live in LA or New York, shows like Mad Men and Girls dominate the conversation but the truth is, the general public does not watch those shows. If any of the shows on AMC were on a network, they would have been cancelled long ago. People watch and ABSOLUTELY LOVE shows like The Big Bang Theory and procedurals like Law & Order. The general public loves catchphrases and familiar titles. Do you know who Cote De Pablo is? Of course not. She is the star of NCIS and she will be leaving the show this season (its 11th)* and people are FREAKING THE FUCK OUT about it… but the people who are worrying about it are blue collar, middle aged and elderly people in the suburbs who don’t tweet or have pop culture blogs. Is she a good actress? Is NCIS a good show? The answer is probably not, at least not by the standards that the young, upwardly mobile, bi-coastal, Twittersphere judges pop culture by but CBS and Ms. Pablo are laughing all the way to the bank. There’s a reason they’re called “procedurals,” because they follow the same formula, the formula that people like, the formula that draws eyeballs and sells ad space. We are in or possibly coming out of the so-called Golden Age of Television. The shows that are on the Mount Rushmore of TV are over and the remainders are yet to be proven. Justified and Mad Men will go for a few more years and Game Of Thrones and Homeland will stay on and win some Emmys and then fade away but there will be multiple iterations of these bland procedurals to satiate the mass viewing public for years to come. Reruns of Two And A Half Men and sports almost always beat out what we have left standing in as quality TV. Will my parents ever care about what Don Draper‘s fate will ultimately be? Fuck no. But do they watch reality tv about rednecks who hunt for things in swamps? Yes they do. Personally, most of my favorite shows get cancelled** but there are more reality programs than ever and they’re taking over precious airtime like a plague.
This is nothing new, it’s not a novel argument, the distinction between popular things and quality thins has always been wide, for the most part. An article in Esquire cites some comparisons, the Duck Dynasty finale last season which drew 10 million viewers compared to the Mad Men finale that drew only 3 million and an unfunny midseason episode of The Big Bang Theory that drew 20 million viewers while shows from comedic geniuses like Louis C.K. and Amy Schumer have to be made for pennies because they’re always on the bubble. That article is much more interesting and in-depth than this one but I just used it as a jumping off point to start a conversation. This argument always comes up around Oscar season, as people wonder if any of the nominees will actually make any money.*** It’s not out of the ordinary for studios to spend more money on advertising campaigns for Oscar consideration than the films grossed or cost to make because acclaim is what keeps them going if they can‘t bring in superhero money. Hollywood stars aren’t the draw they used to be because by now, those stars are reluctant to jump aboard established franchises because they think their name and face is still the draw but franchise sequels are the only movies that make money nowadays. They can win Oscars by doing gritty indie films but studios would rather pay a newcomer a few dollars to be the face of an already established franchise because paying $20 million to Will Smith isn’t worth the risk anymore. A theater like Laemmle that is supposed to specialize in art-house and independent cinema rarely does, at least in Claremont, because art-house and independent doesn’t sell. There’s a reason we only show documentaries and foreign language films, films that will probably be shortlisted for Oscars, twice a week while The Lone Ranger gets 21 screenings per week. Even though people claim to like smaller films, they really don’t, but good for them for pretending to. Maybe they’ll stumble upon something good by accident on Netflix. The movies that sell tickets and popcorn for Laemmle are low to mid budget passion projects headlined by Tom Hanks and Meryl Streep that don‘t make a splash at the box office. Sometimes a film breaks through and makes a star out of someone but it’s rare. Most indie films open in New York and LA and if they do well MAYBE they’ll screen for our friends in Omaha or Fargo a month later because nobody in Omaha or Fargo knows who Ellen Page is until Juno comes to the local theater. Theaters and television networks are businesses and as much as we hate seeing shows we like get the axe and shows we hate, or worse, don’t care about at all, thrive, we wouldn’t have anything at all if they weren’t around. That’s why the old model keeps being used, the same reheated jokes and premises keep being served up, the same shows keep getting spin-offs, the same movies keep getting remade and sequelized: It’s not worth the trouble to try something new and they want to stay in business. Most people eat the same food every day, date the same kind of people over and over again, maintain the same routine because it works and it’s comfortable and it’s easy. When people break out and try something new, we get interesting art and it gets us talking and that’s when the magic happens.^
*Do you really think Louie will get 11 seasons?
**A list that includes such gems from the past few years as Happy Endings, BFF, Apartment 23, Bored To Death, The Killing and Terriers just to name a few.
***When I say “people wonder” I don’t mean people I know or talk to because nobody I know or talk to cares about box office grosses or awards shows or Hollywood trends so I have to get my info online and skirt that world via podcasts and the internet. I'm aware that nobody I know cares about this stuff but for some reason I think about it a lot and write blog posts expecting people to read about it.
^That was the most cliché sentence I have ever written.
This is nothing new, it’s not a novel argument, the distinction between popular things and quality thins has always been wide, for the most part. An article in Esquire cites some comparisons, the Duck Dynasty finale last season which drew 10 million viewers compared to the Mad Men finale that drew only 3 million and an unfunny midseason episode of The Big Bang Theory that drew 20 million viewers while shows from comedic geniuses like Louis C.K. and Amy Schumer have to be made for pennies because they’re always on the bubble. That article is much more interesting and in-depth than this one but I just used it as a jumping off point to start a conversation. This argument always comes up around Oscar season, as people wonder if any of the nominees will actually make any money.*** It’s not out of the ordinary for studios to spend more money on advertising campaigns for Oscar consideration than the films grossed or cost to make because acclaim is what keeps them going if they can‘t bring in superhero money. Hollywood stars aren’t the draw they used to be because by now, those stars are reluctant to jump aboard established franchises because they think their name and face is still the draw but franchise sequels are the only movies that make money nowadays. They can win Oscars by doing gritty indie films but studios would rather pay a newcomer a few dollars to be the face of an already established franchise because paying $20 million to Will Smith isn’t worth the risk anymore. A theater like Laemmle that is supposed to specialize in art-house and independent cinema rarely does, at least in Claremont, because art-house and independent doesn’t sell. There’s a reason we only show documentaries and foreign language films, films that will probably be shortlisted for Oscars, twice a week while The Lone Ranger gets 21 screenings per week. Even though people claim to like smaller films, they really don’t, but good for them for pretending to. Maybe they’ll stumble upon something good by accident on Netflix. The movies that sell tickets and popcorn for Laemmle are low to mid budget passion projects headlined by Tom Hanks and Meryl Streep that don‘t make a splash at the box office. Sometimes a film breaks through and makes a star out of someone but it’s rare. Most indie films open in New York and LA and if they do well MAYBE they’ll screen for our friends in Omaha or Fargo a month later because nobody in Omaha or Fargo knows who Ellen Page is until Juno comes to the local theater. Theaters and television networks are businesses and as much as we hate seeing shows we like get the axe and shows we hate, or worse, don’t care about at all, thrive, we wouldn’t have anything at all if they weren’t around. That’s why the old model keeps being used, the same reheated jokes and premises keep being served up, the same shows keep getting spin-offs, the same movies keep getting remade and sequelized: It’s not worth the trouble to try something new and they want to stay in business. Most people eat the same food every day, date the same kind of people over and over again, maintain the same routine because it works and it’s comfortable and it’s easy. When people break out and try something new, we get interesting art and it gets us talking and that’s when the magic happens.^
*Do you really think Louie will get 11 seasons?
**A list that includes such gems from the past few years as Happy Endings, BFF, Apartment 23, Bored To Death, The Killing and Terriers just to name a few.
***When I say “people wonder” I don’t mean people I know or talk to because nobody I know or talk to cares about box office grosses or awards shows or Hollywood trends so I have to get my info online and skirt that world via podcasts and the internet. I'm aware that nobody I know cares about this stuff but for some reason I think about it a lot and write blog posts expecting people to read about it.
^That was the most cliché sentence I have ever written.
Friday, October 4, 2013
First Date
A short story
-Have you ever thought about how you would die?
-Not really, Michael says, Not like, I think I’m gonna drown or fall off a building, nothing like that. But I always thought by the time I’m supposed to die, like 50 or 60 years from now, they might have invented something to give people so they just don’t die anymore.
-That, Janie says, or we’ll all be dead from a comet or something. Did you see that thing a few months ago, that comet that was so close to earth that it was inside the orbit of our satellites? I also always kind of thought I might die from a car accident, I mean, statistically, that’s probably the most dangerous thing I do multiple times every day. Janie sits up a little against the wall she’s leaning on, readjusts her skirt, stretches her legs. I always have these dreams where I’m driving too fast and I can’t make a turn in time and drive off a cliff.
-Do you think that’s a sign of something, are you living your life in the fast lane? What would Freud say?
-I don’t think so, I’m a pretty boring girl. Plus, I drive like an old lady, I would never be driving recklessly down a mountain road.
Janie was new to the job, today was her first day, as a matter of fact. Mike took note pretty fast as she was the only person on the staff who was under the age of 40. She was cute too, but he didn’t want to worry about that right now, he was just happy to have someone to talk to who was his contemporary. He had been introduced to her earlier in the day but he was terrible with names, he couldn’t remember hers. And he didn’t want to lean forward and turn to look at the nametag on her chest for fear she would catch him and call him out for being a pervert. So they just sat there, killing time.
-I’m hungry, I didn’t eat breakfast. I spent way too much time getting ready to come here today. I tried on about 5 outfits.
-You’re lucky, Michael offers, you have way more choices. My only choices every day are basically the white shirt… or the blue shirt.
-You’re making it work though. I like your tie, it gives it all a little extra flair. Guys look good in a nice shirt and tie.
-Thanks, he says. I’ve always envied women, you have so many choices in apparel that can look good. If men experiment too much, it can get a little touch and go.
-I wouldn’t dress like this anywhere but here, they have the whole business casual thing that is kind of limiting.
-Yeah but even with those limitations, you have a lot more to work with. You look nice.
-Well, thank you, she says. She unconsciously flattens her skirt on her legs and tugs at her collar a little bit. Are you one of those guys who likes the whole ‘women in a uniform’ thing? You know, the teacher or the secretary in the tight pencil skirt and tiny, halfway unbuttoned blouse.
-Maybe, he says with a smile. I mean, he starts, suddenly theatrically stoic, I don’t know what you’re talking about.
-Well, I guess you wouldn’t be interested in seeing my Halloween costume from a few weeks ago, she teases. When we get our phones back, I could show you, although you’re not interested so I guess I’ll keep it to myself.
He chuckles a little, keeping his voice low. Considering the circumstances, he was actually having a good time. Michael, who was basically sleepwalking through his job for the past year, was happy to have someone to talk to on this particular day. Hopefully, once they got back to work, his days would be filled with good conversation with this new, fun girl and not lunch in the break room with the middle aged moms and their stories about their husbands and children.
-You think they’ll bring us pizza or something?
-I hope so. You think we’re getting paid for today still?
-Hopefully. The ink is barely dry on my paperwork, I’m probably not even in the system yet.
-Look at it this way, he says, lowering his voice, anything that comes up in your training won’t be as bad as this right? Getting hit on by old men and counting a bucket of change from some crazy lady will seem like a walk in the park.
She slaps him on the leg and giggles. They take a look around the room. Everybody is basically doing the same thing as them, sitting against the wall, hands in their laps, occasionally leaning over to say something to their neighbor. In this day & age, it’s weird to see people just sitting, not staring at their phone.
-What do you think they’re doing? she whispers.
-I don’t know. I thought these kinds of things are supposed to go fast, in and out.
-You’d think so. They must be after something in particular.
Janie crosses her arms across her chest and brings her legs up close to her. Mike notices and has an internal argument with himself about whether or not to give her his suit jacket. She’s clearly a strong, independent woman who doesn’t need him to protect her or take care of her. He doesn’t want to come onto her in any way, after all, a gesture like that carries a symbolic meaning with it. He finally decides to be chivalrous and leans forward to take off his jacket and offers it to her. Without any hesitation or awkwardness, she leans forward as well and accepts the gesture, grabbing the coat by the lapels and covering herself with it.
It is quite cold in the room, as the cold November air is finally creeping in. If this went on much longer, it was likely to get uncomfortable.
-How long have you worked here?
-About two years.
-Do you like it here?
-Yeah, it’s not so bad, I mean, he gestures in front of them, stuff like this doesn’t happen every day.
-I always start a job and get excited about if for a while then get bored and start to resent the job and everyone I work with.
-Oh that’ll happen too. In 6 months you’ll despise me.
She laughs and hits him on the leg again.
-We’re like the only people here who aren’t middle-aged, she whispers to him. Do you get along with all these women?
-Yeah, they’re alright. I don’t have much in common with any of them but they’re nice enough.
-How about that one, she leans in again and whispers even more quietly, she looks like a cougar.
-She’s alright, he says nonchalantly, we hooked up a couple times.
She looks at him, mouth agape, Really?
-Yeah, and they’re fake, in case you were wondering.
She is still looking at him, wondering if he’s putting her on.
-I’m just kidding, he says, with a mischievous smile.
-I was gonna say, good for you.
-It looks like something is going on. You hear that?
Everyone quiets down and stiffens up a little. We all crane our necks in an attempt to see out the windows but they’re too high up. Men walk by quickly, speaking to each other, but it’s inaudible to them. Shortly, the door opens and a man in a black knit mask places two big, flat boxes printed with a little man tossing a pizza above his head on the floor.
-Lunch, he says, and walks out of the room and shuts the door.
-His manners leave a little to be desired, she says.
-Yeah, he didn’t even ask us what toppings we wanted.
She stifles a laugh, covering her mouth while looking at him. You’re funny.
-Thank you, but more importantly, I’m hungry.
He reaches to the box and opens it up and looks at an extra large cheese pizza from the place across the street. It’s still hot even. He grabs a slice in each hand then nudges the box to the group of women sitting in the corner. The other box had already been descended upon by the cougar, she picked it up and brought it back to her side of the room. He hands a slice to Janie and she takes it and offers thanks. They sit quietly and eat their lunch, enjoying themselves, considering the circumstances. He hadn’t really noticed when it happened but they were now sitting shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee. Michael discreetly smiled to himself as he bit into his crust.
After everyone’s hunger was temporarily satiated, they all descended into a long silence, the gravity of the situation finally setting in. They were becoming restless, the women stuck in their stockings and skirts and stiff business casual wear. A couple even started doing stretches and seated yoga maneuvers.
-Do you mind? Janie asks, as she rests her head on his left shoulder.
-No, go ahead, he says, masking his elation, wondering if she could somehow sense his elevated heartbeat from the contact they’re now making.
-You smell good. Is that Burberry?
-It is, you know your scents.
-I worked at the perfume counter at Macy’s before this. She opens the jacket to highlight her outfit. I bought these clothes there the day I found out I got this job and then quit.
-Nice, you got that employee discount one last time. I always hated walking by those counters at department stores, you get assaulted by a wave of 10 different colognes and perfumes that burn your nose.
-I think I lost my sense of smell working there, except for colognes and perfumes. She crinkles and squeezes her nose for effect. My nose has mutated so it only reacts to Dolce & Gabbana and Chanel now.
-Not the worst affliction, I suppose. I love those Chanel ads with Audrey Tautou.
-She’s gorgeous. Is she your biggest actor crush?
-No, but she’s up there, he says after running a few images through his head, probably top 5. I like the same girls everyone likes, Jennifer Lawrence, Scarlett Johansson, Snookie.
-Oh yeah, Snookie does it for you, huh? she says, laughing.
-Ooh, hell yeah, he says with a straight face.
She giggles and nudges a little closer to him. He has yet another debate with himself as to whether or not he should put his arm around her. The part of him telling him he shouldn’t do it yet was in the midst of an uphill battle when his reverie was interrupted.
The door to the conference room opened and a man stepped in. He held up an iPhone to one of the women Mike had passed the pizza box to and pulled a pistol out of the back of his pants and shot her in the forehead.
He spoke through his black knit mask into the phone as he held it out in front of him. Any attempt to apprehend us in this building will result in the death of the rest of the hostages. Goodbye. He then pushed a button and placed the phone in a pocket on his vest. He calmly stepped out of the room and shut the door behind him.
The women on each side of the headshot bank teller were screaming and speckled with blood. The exit wound was small yet still hideously grotesque. It went through her and blew a jagged hole in the thin wall of the room. They scurried in both directions along the wall away from the body.
Janie had grabbed his arm and was squeezing it and hiding her face in his shoulder. Michael adjusted himself and blocked her view of the woman. After a minute or two of holding her, feeling her weep into his embrace, listening to everyone in the room crying, she finally sat up and he held her face gently in his hands.
-Are you okay, he asks quietly, looking straight at her for the first time, her eye makeup smeared and running down her cheek.
-Yeah, she says, barely audible and confirms it with a slight nod.
-I’m going to take this, okay, he says, and gently removes his suit coat from her shoulders.
She grabs his hand and squeezes it before he turns around and crawls to Mary, the teller. She lies awkwardly on her side, face down, one arm underneath her at an unnatural angle, the other sticking straight out, as if reaching for something toward the middle of the room. Mike doesn’t touch or move the body in any way, swallowing back the bile threatening to rise up his throat, ignoring the shake in his hands, and places his suit coat over her torso and more importantly, the head, temporarily covering the gore and the slowly growing puddle of blood spreading from the wound.
From his vantage point on his hands and knees, he dares to peek out of the hole blown in the thin, wood paneled wall. He looks upon the scene in the lobby of the bank for the first time in hours. He can only see in the direction facing the stairwell that goes up to the managers offices and the room that houses the safety deposit boxes.
There is nobody in his limited vision of sight and he decides to lean forward over the body to get a wider range of vision. He can see a group of men discussing something just out of range of the front door. They are in all black but a couple of them were stripping down to street clothes that they had on under their cargo pants and pullovers. Beyond them was another room containing the customers who had the misfortune of being inside the bank when it was taken over. The first action the two men took after announcing their intentions was to separate the employees from the patrons and ask for the bank manager to present herself. A man took her away while the other man separated the two groups of hostages and stood guard.
But now, it seemed there were as many as half a dozen of them.
Michael felt a wetness on his fingers and he leaned back and pulled his hand up. The pool of blood had spread and stained the thumb and index finger of his left hand. He stared at it for a moment, watching it drip to the floor as he held it up, and finally wiped it on his pants leg. He crawled back along the wall to where Janie had moved to be closer to the other women and put his arm around her and told them all it was going to be okay, acknowledging to himself that it was a weak gesture of comfort, but it was about all he could muster at the moment.
-What did you see, the cougar asked him in a loud whisper, pointing in the direction of the hole in the wall above Mary.
-Not much, he starts, quietly. They were standing by the front door talking and they were taking their black clothes off and changing into regular clothes. That’s about all.
-What do you think they’re doing? Janie asks.
-I’d guess they’re done with whatever it is they came here for.
-Well how are they going to get out then? They’re going to have a shootout in regular clothes? Why not keep the bulletproof vests and the ones with all the pockets for guns and stuff?
-I don’t know, he says pensively, as a couple light bulbs started to flicker on and off in his head. I think they’re going to try something, some kind of escape. I think they were focusing on the safety deposit boxes, they probably came for something specific and now they found it and are putting together their plan to escape.
-How do you think they’re going to do it, the cougar asks. I mean, this place has got to be surrounded right?
He nods in agreement, still trying to catch up to the thoughts running through his head.
-There’s no way they would survive a shootout going out the front door, he says.
-But that’s the only way out of the building, isn’t it, Janie asks.
-It’s the only way out from ground level, he says, and lets it sink in for a minute.
-The roof, the cougar asks, unbelieving.
-Probably not, there’s got to be snipers nearby, and besides, like you said, the building has to be surrounded. Michael cranes his neck to see if their sentry is checking on them, but he can’t see anyone. And the police would hear a helicopter coming from a mile away.
-So what then, Janie asks.
As if on cue, there is a blast outside of their building that sends a shockwave through them. The glass front door shatters and their ears are ringing from the sheer volume of the explosion in the moments following the blast. The first thought Michael has is, it must be the building across the street.
He rises to his haunches and edges across the room and finally peeks over the paneling to look through the glass top out onto the lobby. People are streaming out of the other holding pen, the bigger conference room where the guests were held. They are running out and rounding the corner and sprinting toward the shattered front door.
Michael turns back to the women in the room and for the first time all day speaks above a loud whisper, I don’t know what’s happening but they’re gone, the customers are free. They’re running outside.
Janie sits up and rushes to his side. Oh my god, she says, holding onto his arm.
-I think they blew up the building across the street and used it as some kind of diversion. I’m sure things are nuts out there.
-But how-
Janie stops short when SWAT officers in riot gear rush in. One spots them in the glass room and aims his rifle directly at them. They quickly raise their hands in a surrendering gesture, and the black-clad officer makes his way to them and tells them to get on the ground and not to move.
Face to face yet again, Michael whispers to Janie, It’s going to be okay now.
She gives a small smile and whispers back, I know.
The next day, Michael sits at the diner down the street from the bank, only a few blocks from his apartment, and sets the newspaper on the table next to the glass of water and coffee mug that his hostess is already filling up. She says she’ll be back in a few minutes and he takes a sip of the brew. He had finally been cleared to go home after giving his statement multiple times and leaving all of his contact information. When he had asked if they could tell him anything about what had happened there, the police only said that they would probably contact him soon to come to the station and talk further with detectives. He had waited at the site until he saw Janie walking to the parking lot. He caught up with her and gave her his phone number and told her to call if she needed anything. She had called him the next morning and asked him if he wanted to get breakfast.
He picks up the paper and of course, the bank heist is plastered all over the front page. He reads:
A downtown branch of Union National Bank was the site of a daring daytime heist yesterday that claimed the lives of one bank employee and three police officers. Police say that two men entered the bank at 11:47 pm and proceeded to blockade the front door, disable the security system, keep employees and bank customers hostage, and finally make an escape at approximately 4:45 pm when an explosion rocked the building across the street from the bank, causing three police officers to lose their life due to debris from the explosion. It is unclear what the thieves were after, as initial reports say there was no attempt to acquire any of the cash on hand and that there seemed to be none missing. Police have been slow in releasing information to the media and will not release any details of the investigation or the names of the victims until their families have been notified. Initial reports also cite no information on the culprits, but someone with knowledge of the incident anonymously stated that there were no suspects in custody and investigators were still trying to determine how they might have escaped. One theory is the explosion in the adjacent building was used as a diversion meant to disorient and-
He senses someone in front of him at the top of his vision and looks up into the face of Janie, freshly showered and cleaned up from the day before. She has swapped her work wear for jeans and a light sweater and looks comfortable and relaxed. He looks at this woman in front of him, a stranger 24 hours ago, their bond built on a tragedy. But having a hand to hold through tragedy, that had made it possible for them to come out of it, however ridiculous, improbable and macabre the whole thing had seemed.
She smiles and leans forward, her chin in her hands. Sorry I’m late.
-No problem, Janie. I just got here. He holds the paper out in front of him. Wanna read the story?
-Maybe later, she says and grabs a menu from its holder at the end of the table. What’s good here?
-Have you ever thought about how you would die?
-Not really, Michael says, Not like, I think I’m gonna drown or fall off a building, nothing like that. But I always thought by the time I’m supposed to die, like 50 or 60 years from now, they might have invented something to give people so they just don’t die anymore.
-That, Janie says, or we’ll all be dead from a comet or something. Did you see that thing a few months ago, that comet that was so close to earth that it was inside the orbit of our satellites? I also always kind of thought I might die from a car accident, I mean, statistically, that’s probably the most dangerous thing I do multiple times every day. Janie sits up a little against the wall she’s leaning on, readjusts her skirt, stretches her legs. I always have these dreams where I’m driving too fast and I can’t make a turn in time and drive off a cliff.
-Do you think that’s a sign of something, are you living your life in the fast lane? What would Freud say?
-I don’t think so, I’m a pretty boring girl. Plus, I drive like an old lady, I would never be driving recklessly down a mountain road.
Janie was new to the job, today was her first day, as a matter of fact. Mike took note pretty fast as she was the only person on the staff who was under the age of 40. She was cute too, but he didn’t want to worry about that right now, he was just happy to have someone to talk to who was his contemporary. He had been introduced to her earlier in the day but he was terrible with names, he couldn’t remember hers. And he didn’t want to lean forward and turn to look at the nametag on her chest for fear she would catch him and call him out for being a pervert. So they just sat there, killing time.
-I’m hungry, I didn’t eat breakfast. I spent way too much time getting ready to come here today. I tried on about 5 outfits.
-You’re lucky, Michael offers, you have way more choices. My only choices every day are basically the white shirt… or the blue shirt.
-You’re making it work though. I like your tie, it gives it all a little extra flair. Guys look good in a nice shirt and tie.
-Thanks, he says. I’ve always envied women, you have so many choices in apparel that can look good. If men experiment too much, it can get a little touch and go.
-I wouldn’t dress like this anywhere but here, they have the whole business casual thing that is kind of limiting.
-Yeah but even with those limitations, you have a lot more to work with. You look nice.
-Well, thank you, she says. She unconsciously flattens her skirt on her legs and tugs at her collar a little bit. Are you one of those guys who likes the whole ‘women in a uniform’ thing? You know, the teacher or the secretary in the tight pencil skirt and tiny, halfway unbuttoned blouse.
-Maybe, he says with a smile. I mean, he starts, suddenly theatrically stoic, I don’t know what you’re talking about.
-Well, I guess you wouldn’t be interested in seeing my Halloween costume from a few weeks ago, she teases. When we get our phones back, I could show you, although you’re not interested so I guess I’ll keep it to myself.
He chuckles a little, keeping his voice low. Considering the circumstances, he was actually having a good time. Michael, who was basically sleepwalking through his job for the past year, was happy to have someone to talk to on this particular day. Hopefully, once they got back to work, his days would be filled with good conversation with this new, fun girl and not lunch in the break room with the middle aged moms and their stories about their husbands and children.
-You think they’ll bring us pizza or something?
-I hope so. You think we’re getting paid for today still?
-Hopefully. The ink is barely dry on my paperwork, I’m probably not even in the system yet.
-Look at it this way, he says, lowering his voice, anything that comes up in your training won’t be as bad as this right? Getting hit on by old men and counting a bucket of change from some crazy lady will seem like a walk in the park.
She slaps him on the leg and giggles. They take a look around the room. Everybody is basically doing the same thing as them, sitting against the wall, hands in their laps, occasionally leaning over to say something to their neighbor. In this day & age, it’s weird to see people just sitting, not staring at their phone.
-What do you think they’re doing? she whispers.
-I don’t know. I thought these kinds of things are supposed to go fast, in and out.
-You’d think so. They must be after something in particular.
Janie crosses her arms across her chest and brings her legs up close to her. Mike notices and has an internal argument with himself about whether or not to give her his suit jacket. She’s clearly a strong, independent woman who doesn’t need him to protect her or take care of her. He doesn’t want to come onto her in any way, after all, a gesture like that carries a symbolic meaning with it. He finally decides to be chivalrous and leans forward to take off his jacket and offers it to her. Without any hesitation or awkwardness, she leans forward as well and accepts the gesture, grabbing the coat by the lapels and covering herself with it.
It is quite cold in the room, as the cold November air is finally creeping in. If this went on much longer, it was likely to get uncomfortable.
-How long have you worked here?
-About two years.
-Do you like it here?
-Yeah, it’s not so bad, I mean, he gestures in front of them, stuff like this doesn’t happen every day.
-I always start a job and get excited about if for a while then get bored and start to resent the job and everyone I work with.
-Oh that’ll happen too. In 6 months you’ll despise me.
She laughs and hits him on the leg again.
-We’re like the only people here who aren’t middle-aged, she whispers to him. Do you get along with all these women?
-Yeah, they’re alright. I don’t have much in common with any of them but they’re nice enough.
-How about that one, she leans in again and whispers even more quietly, she looks like a cougar.
-She’s alright, he says nonchalantly, we hooked up a couple times.
She looks at him, mouth agape, Really?
-Yeah, and they’re fake, in case you were wondering.
She is still looking at him, wondering if he’s putting her on.
-I’m just kidding, he says, with a mischievous smile.
-I was gonna say, good for you.
-It looks like something is going on. You hear that?
Everyone quiets down and stiffens up a little. We all crane our necks in an attempt to see out the windows but they’re too high up. Men walk by quickly, speaking to each other, but it’s inaudible to them. Shortly, the door opens and a man in a black knit mask places two big, flat boxes printed with a little man tossing a pizza above his head on the floor.
-Lunch, he says, and walks out of the room and shuts the door.
-His manners leave a little to be desired, she says.
-Yeah, he didn’t even ask us what toppings we wanted.
She stifles a laugh, covering her mouth while looking at him. You’re funny.
-Thank you, but more importantly, I’m hungry.
He reaches to the box and opens it up and looks at an extra large cheese pizza from the place across the street. It’s still hot even. He grabs a slice in each hand then nudges the box to the group of women sitting in the corner. The other box had already been descended upon by the cougar, she picked it up and brought it back to her side of the room. He hands a slice to Janie and she takes it and offers thanks. They sit quietly and eat their lunch, enjoying themselves, considering the circumstances. He hadn’t really noticed when it happened but they were now sitting shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee. Michael discreetly smiled to himself as he bit into his crust.
After everyone’s hunger was temporarily satiated, they all descended into a long silence, the gravity of the situation finally setting in. They were becoming restless, the women stuck in their stockings and skirts and stiff business casual wear. A couple even started doing stretches and seated yoga maneuvers.
-Do you mind? Janie asks, as she rests her head on his left shoulder.
-No, go ahead, he says, masking his elation, wondering if she could somehow sense his elevated heartbeat from the contact they’re now making.
-You smell good. Is that Burberry?
-It is, you know your scents.
-I worked at the perfume counter at Macy’s before this. She opens the jacket to highlight her outfit. I bought these clothes there the day I found out I got this job and then quit.
-Nice, you got that employee discount one last time. I always hated walking by those counters at department stores, you get assaulted by a wave of 10 different colognes and perfumes that burn your nose.
-I think I lost my sense of smell working there, except for colognes and perfumes. She crinkles and squeezes her nose for effect. My nose has mutated so it only reacts to Dolce & Gabbana and Chanel now.
-Not the worst affliction, I suppose. I love those Chanel ads with Audrey Tautou.
-She’s gorgeous. Is she your biggest actor crush?
-No, but she’s up there, he says after running a few images through his head, probably top 5. I like the same girls everyone likes, Jennifer Lawrence, Scarlett Johansson, Snookie.
-Oh yeah, Snookie does it for you, huh? she says, laughing.
-Ooh, hell yeah, he says with a straight face.
She giggles and nudges a little closer to him. He has yet another debate with himself as to whether or not he should put his arm around her. The part of him telling him he shouldn’t do it yet was in the midst of an uphill battle when his reverie was interrupted.
The door to the conference room opened and a man stepped in. He held up an iPhone to one of the women Mike had passed the pizza box to and pulled a pistol out of the back of his pants and shot her in the forehead.
He spoke through his black knit mask into the phone as he held it out in front of him. Any attempt to apprehend us in this building will result in the death of the rest of the hostages. Goodbye. He then pushed a button and placed the phone in a pocket on his vest. He calmly stepped out of the room and shut the door behind him.
The women on each side of the headshot bank teller were screaming and speckled with blood. The exit wound was small yet still hideously grotesque. It went through her and blew a jagged hole in the thin wall of the room. They scurried in both directions along the wall away from the body.
Janie had grabbed his arm and was squeezing it and hiding her face in his shoulder. Michael adjusted himself and blocked her view of the woman. After a minute or two of holding her, feeling her weep into his embrace, listening to everyone in the room crying, she finally sat up and he held her face gently in his hands.
-Are you okay, he asks quietly, looking straight at her for the first time, her eye makeup smeared and running down her cheek.
-Yeah, she says, barely audible and confirms it with a slight nod.
-I’m going to take this, okay, he says, and gently removes his suit coat from her shoulders.
She grabs his hand and squeezes it before he turns around and crawls to Mary, the teller. She lies awkwardly on her side, face down, one arm underneath her at an unnatural angle, the other sticking straight out, as if reaching for something toward the middle of the room. Mike doesn’t touch or move the body in any way, swallowing back the bile threatening to rise up his throat, ignoring the shake in his hands, and places his suit coat over her torso and more importantly, the head, temporarily covering the gore and the slowly growing puddle of blood spreading from the wound.
From his vantage point on his hands and knees, he dares to peek out of the hole blown in the thin, wood paneled wall. He looks upon the scene in the lobby of the bank for the first time in hours. He can only see in the direction facing the stairwell that goes up to the managers offices and the room that houses the safety deposit boxes.
There is nobody in his limited vision of sight and he decides to lean forward over the body to get a wider range of vision. He can see a group of men discussing something just out of range of the front door. They are in all black but a couple of them were stripping down to street clothes that they had on under their cargo pants and pullovers. Beyond them was another room containing the customers who had the misfortune of being inside the bank when it was taken over. The first action the two men took after announcing their intentions was to separate the employees from the patrons and ask for the bank manager to present herself. A man took her away while the other man separated the two groups of hostages and stood guard.
But now, it seemed there were as many as half a dozen of them.
Michael felt a wetness on his fingers and he leaned back and pulled his hand up. The pool of blood had spread and stained the thumb and index finger of his left hand. He stared at it for a moment, watching it drip to the floor as he held it up, and finally wiped it on his pants leg. He crawled back along the wall to where Janie had moved to be closer to the other women and put his arm around her and told them all it was going to be okay, acknowledging to himself that it was a weak gesture of comfort, but it was about all he could muster at the moment.
-What did you see, the cougar asked him in a loud whisper, pointing in the direction of the hole in the wall above Mary.
-Not much, he starts, quietly. They were standing by the front door talking and they were taking their black clothes off and changing into regular clothes. That’s about all.
-What do you think they’re doing? Janie asks.
-I’d guess they’re done with whatever it is they came here for.
-Well how are they going to get out then? They’re going to have a shootout in regular clothes? Why not keep the bulletproof vests and the ones with all the pockets for guns and stuff?
-I don’t know, he says pensively, as a couple light bulbs started to flicker on and off in his head. I think they’re going to try something, some kind of escape. I think they were focusing on the safety deposit boxes, they probably came for something specific and now they found it and are putting together their plan to escape.
-How do you think they’re going to do it, the cougar asks. I mean, this place has got to be surrounded right?
He nods in agreement, still trying to catch up to the thoughts running through his head.
-There’s no way they would survive a shootout going out the front door, he says.
-But that’s the only way out of the building, isn’t it, Janie asks.
-It’s the only way out from ground level, he says, and lets it sink in for a minute.
-The roof, the cougar asks, unbelieving.
-Probably not, there’s got to be snipers nearby, and besides, like you said, the building has to be surrounded. Michael cranes his neck to see if their sentry is checking on them, but he can’t see anyone. And the police would hear a helicopter coming from a mile away.
-So what then, Janie asks.
As if on cue, there is a blast outside of their building that sends a shockwave through them. The glass front door shatters and their ears are ringing from the sheer volume of the explosion in the moments following the blast. The first thought Michael has is, it must be the building across the street.
He rises to his haunches and edges across the room and finally peeks over the paneling to look through the glass top out onto the lobby. People are streaming out of the other holding pen, the bigger conference room where the guests were held. They are running out and rounding the corner and sprinting toward the shattered front door.
Michael turns back to the women in the room and for the first time all day speaks above a loud whisper, I don’t know what’s happening but they’re gone, the customers are free. They’re running outside.
Janie sits up and rushes to his side. Oh my god, she says, holding onto his arm.
-I think they blew up the building across the street and used it as some kind of diversion. I’m sure things are nuts out there.
-But how-
Janie stops short when SWAT officers in riot gear rush in. One spots them in the glass room and aims his rifle directly at them. They quickly raise their hands in a surrendering gesture, and the black-clad officer makes his way to them and tells them to get on the ground and not to move.
Face to face yet again, Michael whispers to Janie, It’s going to be okay now.
She gives a small smile and whispers back, I know.
The next day, Michael sits at the diner down the street from the bank, only a few blocks from his apartment, and sets the newspaper on the table next to the glass of water and coffee mug that his hostess is already filling up. She says she’ll be back in a few minutes and he takes a sip of the brew. He had finally been cleared to go home after giving his statement multiple times and leaving all of his contact information. When he had asked if they could tell him anything about what had happened there, the police only said that they would probably contact him soon to come to the station and talk further with detectives. He had waited at the site until he saw Janie walking to the parking lot. He caught up with her and gave her his phone number and told her to call if she needed anything. She had called him the next morning and asked him if he wanted to get breakfast.
He picks up the paper and of course, the bank heist is plastered all over the front page. He reads:
A downtown branch of Union National Bank was the site of a daring daytime heist yesterday that claimed the lives of one bank employee and three police officers. Police say that two men entered the bank at 11:47 pm and proceeded to blockade the front door, disable the security system, keep employees and bank customers hostage, and finally make an escape at approximately 4:45 pm when an explosion rocked the building across the street from the bank, causing three police officers to lose their life due to debris from the explosion. It is unclear what the thieves were after, as initial reports say there was no attempt to acquire any of the cash on hand and that there seemed to be none missing. Police have been slow in releasing information to the media and will not release any details of the investigation or the names of the victims until their families have been notified. Initial reports also cite no information on the culprits, but someone with knowledge of the incident anonymously stated that there were no suspects in custody and investigators were still trying to determine how they might have escaped. One theory is the explosion in the adjacent building was used as a diversion meant to disorient and-
He senses someone in front of him at the top of his vision and looks up into the face of Janie, freshly showered and cleaned up from the day before. She has swapped her work wear for jeans and a light sweater and looks comfortable and relaxed. He looks at this woman in front of him, a stranger 24 hours ago, their bond built on a tragedy. But having a hand to hold through tragedy, that had made it possible for them to come out of it, however ridiculous, improbable and macabre the whole thing had seemed.
She smiles and leans forward, her chin in her hands. Sorry I’m late.
-No problem, Janie. I just got here. He holds the paper out in front of him. Wanna read the story?
-Maybe later, she says and grabs a menu from its holder at the end of the table. What’s good here?
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