A simple pair of lists...

What I did this year:

• Reconnect with old friends
• Make new friends.
• Say goodbye to some friends far too soon.
• Finally say a few things to certain people that I never thought I would get the chance to say.
• Start my own podcast (for better or worse).
• Keep up my blog, despite some dry spells (for better or worse).
• Continue writing, most notably completing my Script Frenzy and NaNoWrimo goal (mostly for sheer insanity).

What I plan to do next year:

• Continue to learn from the mistakes of my past.
• (As always) try to be a better friend, a better son, a better brother, and a better person in general than last year.
• Try to have more of what resembles a social life, despite sometimes just liking quiet evenings at home.
  
• Finally get around to publishing something.
• (As always) try to have a better year than the last year.

As Time Goes By...

Okay, color me stupid here.

I don't think that a month has gone by when I haven't actually thought to myself in idle passing, "What are you going to do for the one year anniversary of House Rules?" I was probably thinking about it after the first few weeks, the first few months... heck. Two months ago I was trying to figure out if I was going to make a compilation book of some sort.

So it comes as a shock to me as I pondered what I was going to post this month and how to squeeze it in between bouts of mad writing sessions, that I would stumble across fellow blogger Ivan celebrating his six year anniversary (and congrats to you again on making it this far... your site rocks). And as it reminded me of what I should do when I achieve my meager but still impressive goal of one year in, it also reminded me of yet another thing...

That happened two weeks ago.

October 19, 2008. The first post at Casa de House (albeit a repost of a previous post from another page. Still, it was the start of this whole thing, and even if it wasn't, the first post after that would still have been in October. So I missed my 1 year anniversary this year. I'm sorry, baby. Do you forgive me?

Anywho, I'd be a lot more formal about this (and maybe I will later), but the truth is I just don't have the time to spare on it right now. But thanks to the many people, here and there, near and far, gone and yet to come, that have made the creation of my little corner of cyberspace worth the effort by checking it out from time to time.

Revisionist History: Part 2c

(The final chapter, wherein we actually go back to earlier in the story to see how Edith and Lake socialize and interact. They're really the best of friends, they are. Here in one of the opening stanzas, we get a look into the inner workings of what a clan meeting for the city's Hunter's Guild looks like. Although arguably, you probably wouldn't call this meeting typical...)

“Abernathy.”

“Here.”

“Anderson.”

“Here.”

“Andrews.”

“Present.”

Roll call. Arguably one of the single most annoying periods of time in the history of creation. It begins at childhood, and proceeds to be a nuisance until death. Or at least that’s how some would view it.

“Barnard.”

“Here.”

“Laraby.”

“Yeah, I’m here...”

“Kendricks”

“Here.”

“Montayo.”

“Uh, he’s dead.”

“Really. Cripes, that’s a shame. I already wired his pay for this week. That’s gonna be a pain to get recalled.” Edith Fortunado was always the first to display her own special brand of sympathy. If she remembered, she’d probably use part of the recalled wages to send a wreath or something else fitting. Roll call continued for the ragged bunch, missing names being skipped over and recalled again until the wary midget of a woman just couldn’t stand to do it anymore. “Aw, screw ‘em. Let’s get the meeting started. Any old business to resolve?”

Barnard was always the first to chime in like the teacher’s pet he most assuredly must have been throughout most of his life. He caught himself just short of raising his hand for attention before coughing it up, “Well, Montayo had that one thing you were supposed to look into, but uh ... well, he isn’t here.” His shoulders bobbed in a brief shrug before glancing back over his contact sheet.

Edith gritted her teeth at the smattering of murmurs and chuckles that protruded from the crew. If nothing else, she hated the lack of order that always presented itself during these meetings. Heck, she hated the meetings altogether. But they were a necessary evil if she wanted to keep the guild in a state that remotely resembled solvent. Not that she always cared about that, but like most people she appreciated when the lights and appliances worked. Edith waved a hand dismissively. “All right, pipe down you yahoos. Anything else?”

She took the momentary lapse of comments as reason enough to move on. “Okay, then. We can move on to new business. We’ve had a drop in our capture rate over the past quarter. This coincides, surprisingly enough, with an increase in our hunter injuries and fatalities. I don’t have to explain this to any of you, do I? Now I know there have been things going on in the guild, and far be it from me to get bent out of shape by a few of you bums getting put into the ground, but it’s affecting business. The bottom line is the bottom line, and right now we’re leaning more towards red no matter how you look at it.”

Edith gave her small play on words time to hit some of the slower witted members over the head a few times before continuing. “The important thing to remember is to be careful. I know half the city thinks that we’re expendable, but we are actually providing a service here. Contrary to popular belief, if we don’t do our jobs right, the city does suffer. But enough with the pep talk…” The woman had to resist the urge to smirk at the notion before continuing, “On to other business. We have a walkabout today.”

The statement drew more attention than any other one in the morning had. Just about every head in the assemblage perked up and directed its attention to the front. Even a few of the sleeping folks snapped awake at the word. It had been a while since there had been a walkabout in the guild. It had been long enough that some people had never encountered one in their entire career. For anyone familiar with the process, there was the usual mix of emotions flowing through the room. There was the standard order of idle curiosity. There was a sprinkle of novelty. But mostly, there was the fear. The horrible, all enclosing fear of the words that would next be spoken.

“I need a volunteer.” Edith timed the comment for the appropriate mix of drama and amusement. The amusement was mostly hers, of course, but there were a handful of people masochistic enough to find potential joy in the outcome. She brushed her hand in a dismissive fashion. “Aw, don’t cry, ya bunch of babies! I’m not stupid enough to expect any of you putzes to actually volunteer. In fact, I’ve come up with a method that’s more than fair. I think I’ll just consider the lucky victim to be the next person to walk through the door. Yep, that’ll do it. The very next person to walk through that door will be our lucky volunteer.”

There was a certain anticipation in her proclamation that had eluded some of the guild, but like a wave the realization of what was happening was starting to become apparent. A low-based murmuring linked itself to a pattern of individuals checking the clock that hung over the door. Anyone that checked saw that it was clearly twelve minutes after their meeting start time. Anyone with even a trace of sense knew that it was Wednesday. And everyone that knew a certain individual knew that by some manner of habit or heavenly decree, a certain member of their guild almost certainly showed up exactly thirteen minutes late for any Wednesday meeting. So it was with great revelry and a modicum of satisfaction that the group welcomed its tardy compatriot into the room.

Lake O’Bannon strolled into the room in matter of fact fashion. Neither his demeanor nor his appearance would indicate that he was in any rush to get inside. On the contrary, nothing that Lake did gave faintest hint that he was on the verge of either sneaking to his seat or apologizing for being late. It had already been well established that the time that Lake reported in on Wednesday was pretty much his own prerogative.

The popular theory was that Lake had some mystery rendezvous on Tuesday nights that kept him preoccupied, but his general lack of a good mood on Wednesday precluded them from associating him with the usual pleasantries that a “secret rendezvous” would entail. Others carried the popular theory that Lake had some early morning regimen on Wednesday that made him late, but again there were no outward signs that he was exhausted from workout, peaceful from meditation, or (as previously mentioned) in a pleasant mood from any other unsavory activity. A few guild members had bothered to attempt to track him on Wednesday morning to see just what the deal was. The few that remained intact long enough to report to anyone else brought the dismal news that Lake was late simply because he was, and it seemed to just be a matter of fate conspiring to make sure he was never on time on Wednesday. Whatever the reason, today it was bound to provide some much needed entertainment for the meeting.

Lake paused after entering the doorway, adjusting the cuff of his leather jacket as he mumbled something best left incoherent under his breath. It took him a handful of seconds to notice that something was out of sorts… more out of sorts than usual in the group. Too many people seemed pleased to see him. He had found in general practice that too many people happy to see him was rarely a good thing.

“Mr. O’Bannon. So lovely to see you today. And at such an appropriate time, too. “ Edith Fortunado grinned an impish smile that her lack of stature made appear even more so. A few of the guild members reflected the same mock enthusiasm that Edith did, and that was when Lake truly grasped how screwed he was.

Lake let a short huff of air slip out of his lips before starting his query. “What? Am I getting docked? Am I getting written up for that ganger I cracked last week? Am I getting docked for cracking that ganger last week? Am I getting cracked for docking that ganger last week?”

The room hung in silence for the reply of their leader. They knew this was just the opening volley in a classic exchange. Edith debated letting the noose tighten a little more before the big reveal, but decided that there was really no reason to drag it out too far. Besides, all of this pleasantry was wearing on her own nerves. Edith propped a hand against her podium. “I was just informing everyone about the walkabout we just acquired.”

Lake fought back a grimace at the mention of the word, a successful effort that he managed to bend into a small smirk. “Walkabout, huh? Haven’t we got enough crap floating around here without one of those making it worse?” Lake had absolutely no qualms about tossing a general insult out in a room of what should be his allies. Heaven knows they would be more than willing to do the same should the opportunity arise. Still, the comment seemed to raise the dander of at least a few of the assembled, many of whom showed their disapproval by shifting in their seats and glaring.

Edith coughed out a monosyllable of disapproval to the question. “Could be.” Edith had the same lack of regard as Lake did in the matter, but at least she had the pull to not be worried about reprisals, “But for better or worse, we’ve got one. And now that I have a volunteer for walkabout duty, I don’t have to worry about it all that much.

“Volunteer?” Lake’s smirk gathered a hint of actual amusement. “What poor fool would be insane enough to volunteer for walkabout du…” It was about that time that he managed to piece it all together. The pleasantries, the general joy he seemed to be bringing part of the room, the fact that he hadn’t been docked yet… there had to be a payoff somewhere for Edith, and there it was. His entire demeanor shifted to one of annoyance. “Oh, no. No, no, no. You are not shackling me with one of those... things for the week. I did my time two years ago and I was done. Find some other sucker with a death wish to do your dirty work for you.”

Edith’s tone took an abrupt shift of its own, “Now you wait just a minute! You think fair play applies in all guild matters? The truth is this has been coming for a long time. Breaking rules, not following protocols, damage tallies way beyond your class level allowance… and every time I try to call you on it, you have some half-cocked excuse or some convenient break of fortune that keeps my hands tied. You’ve slipped through more loopholes and backdoors than I can count, but not today, bucko! I’ve been waiting to screw you over for a long time now, and now you're gonna get what’s coming to you!”

For a brief moment, Lake seemed genuinely taken aback by Edith’s diatribe. His left eyebrow arched upward as he perused his employer’s face. His lips parted calmly as he carefully sorted out his response.

“Say… are you coming on to me?”

The smattering of chuckles from the audience was more than enough to break the tension for most of them. Some of the guild had gotten a bit restless in the brief pause that preceded Lake’s comment. A few foolish souls actually dared to assume it possible that Lake was honestly repentant and on the verge of apologizing for his past actions. They were more than pleased to see that that was not the case.

Edith Fortunado, on the other hand, was anything but amused. Her face began to flare an almost trademark shade of red, and it was abundantly clear to any of the guild members who had seen it occur before that it was not a blush of embarrassment.

“Do you think…” Edith fought to maintain anything that resembled civility as her temper railed against her better judgment, “… for one second… that I would ever… within the confines of my mind… “ Edith pointed towards Barnard, who flinched at the motion despite the lack of flames shooting from her fingertip, “… his mind… or within the very depths of hell itself even remotely consider coming onto you? In what bizarre freakshow of a world does my utter contempt and rage for you possibly translate into anything that even resembles attraction? You… you… you’re lucky I don’t leap off of here and throttle the life out you with my bare hands!” Her body began to slowly tremble, making some fear that she might actually leap from her podium in some kind of suicidal plunge at her contemptuous employee.

Lake, for his part, seemed unfazed by this new found rage. In fact his own demeanor had improved a good deal, though an apt observer could clearly see that he was by no means happy. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he mused aloud to no one in particular, “Well, I can’t say where it came from, exactly. It was just the wording there. ‘Half-cocked,’ ‘loophole,’ ‘backdoor.’ You know in some circles, even the word 'throttle'…”

Edith banged her fist on the top of her podium and pointed an aged finger at Lake. “All right! Not another word out of you! You’re taking the walkabout, and so help me if I hear anything other than rave reviews about your behavior, I'll bounce you out of here on your smug little backside!”

Lake clearly had something else to say on the matter, but he remained silent. Of his many social skills, the ability to know just how far he could push someone before he had crossed the point of no return was probably the most finely honed. It was clear he didn’t love this particular turn of events, but it was also clear that short of getting himself removed from the guild there wasn’t much else he could do to get out of this. With a certain sense of resignation, he turned and headed back towards the door he had so recently entered.

“And just where do you think you’re going, hot shot?” Edith queried to his back.

Lake didn’t bother to turn around, stopping as he reached the door. “In accordance with Article 4, Paragraph 8 of the Provisional Guild Agreement with the Free States, any member enacted into volunteer duty with a walkabout may, at their discretion, forgo standard guild protocols when interacting with said walkabout. Pursuant with this, I’m enacting a special preparatory meeting to prepare for said walkabout. This meeting, coincidentally enough, will force me to miss the rest of this one. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

As the door shut with Lake on the opposite side of it, Edith Fortunado quietly grinded her teeth together. “I am so docking him for cracking that ganger last week…”
...

(Now the one thing that occurs to me as I reviewed this was a rather obvious error I made in the storytelling. Because this is supposed to be the first time that you meet either Edith or Lake, and neither is particularly described in detail. That's a terrible throwback to the fact that I just didn't care about that particular detail when I started writing.

In fact, one of the things I have a bad habit of being deficient about is writing character and location details. If I'm not in the proper zone, I tend to skim over them and revisit them later, focusing more on advancing the story. But both do get described in more detail later, so I suppose I should just go back and drop some in here.)

Revisionist History: Part 1

Okay, so I'm allegedly still rehashing and editing some of the pilot I wrote earlier this year. It still remains the greatest pilot script I've ever written (ignore the fact that it's the only one I've ever written...), but it needs some serious cleaning to get anywhere close to presentable.

That's not entirely true. I could show you the whole thing right now, really. But I'd just as soon not, since my ego is fragile enough when I share complete works that I think are pretty solid.

So in an effort to make forward progress with revisions, to flesh out details that haven't yet been fleshed out, to present some insight into some of the plot and characters, and simply because I can count it as work on editing if I put it in writing, here is the first of several installments of post-first draft observations made by me on the pilot episode of Frak.

I've reread the entire script, and I already know that there are several plot holes that need feeling. Major filling. Perhaps a cream filling, but more on that some other time. The one thing that going back through it convinced me of was that a critical decision I made early on had to be revisited and revised.

Basically put: Chris needed to be more evil.

To explain, Chris is the lead character Charlie's alter ego. He is literally his alter ego, as they share the same thoughts and even the same body. But one thing I wanted to make sure of is that I didn't necessarily fall into the trap of making their relationship a Jekyll/Hyde one.

Chris should be incorrigible, rude, even have a mean streak, but he shouldn't be evil. In some respects he should be likable, but only as long as it takes him to open his mouth and remind you just why you hate him as a person.

The problem with that, though, is that it leaves Charlie out on a limb. He's the protagonist, but by no means is he the nicest guy on the planet. Which means that when Charlie shows his mean streak, the line between he and Chris starts to blur. That wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing, but as I expanded on the story, I started to realize just how much both characters started to ride that "middle of the road" area.

So the solution (or a solution) to that is to make sure that Chris' base personality starts far enough down the pipeline of despicable that it's obvious that he isn't on the same page as Charlie. The danger of Chris becoming a caricature (which he shouldn't be) is my main concern there, but I think it's something I can handle.

And on the plus side, making the move lets me fix one of the plot holes from early on in the script. Because it means that Chris isn't above eliminating a witness that might later cause him problems. Which sets up a whole other scene that I haven't written yet, but that helps establish a few extra character traits for a few other people. So double bonus.

I know, I know. You're all, "We want to know more about the plot!" And you will. But not this time. That comes after I make sure that I know just what the plot is myself. Which is probably the nature of Part 2.

A Matter of Perspective

It's interesting just how different things can be when you look at them from a alternate point of view. Mind you, the first obstacle to this is that one tends to be trapped in their own personal sphere of perception. That sounds all fancy, but all I mean by that is that we tend to get stuck in our own heads.

Let's face it. In the big show that is life, we tend to cast ourselves as the star. And why wouldn't we? We spend every waking moment seeing the world through our own eyes, after all. And no matter how low your ego gets, I'd hope that no one qualifies their existence only through the life of someone else (undying affections to various offspring notwithstanding). Really, you don't have much choice but to put the world into your own sphere. Be it comedy, tragedy, musical, drama or some quirky mix of them all.

But it does have its down side. For one, it's easy to fall into the trappings of being self-absorbed. I'm as big a victim of this as anyone (as any good friend of mine can attest to), and while it can be good to be involved primarily in self for brief periods of time, you run the risk of shutting yourself off so far that you become blind to what's going on around you.

Which leads me back to point of view. One can attest to the principles of empathy and sympathy all they'd like, but they are poor substitutes for a true sense of stepping outside of oneself.

For example, I just recently had an interesting exchange with an old friend of mine (actually, I’ve had several interesting exchanges with several different old friends, but those are other stories…). Back in the olden days (Is high school really considered that now? Sheesh…), I always considered them someone that I enjoyed hanging out with. Of course, from my perspective, I was a burden to be around (which isn’t necessarily untrue), so I valued any time they’d actually break down and hang out with me at all.

The crazy thing is that from their perspective, almost the opposite was true. They were the younger, fish out of water in the group who ended up being grateful to me for letting them into my sphere. Believe me when I say that had I not heard such a thing, it would never occur to me that anyone would even think I could wield enough influence to be excluding, let alone be grateful that I’d accept them into the fold. Honestly, most social subsets I’ve ever been a part of by default have no restrictions. If they did, I wouldn’t be a part of them.

But my point here is just how one’s own perception of self can blind you to what the truth of what the world might be. Aside from bizarre truths like the fact that most people were far more popular in high school than they ever realized (which is incredibly useful to know after you’ve graduated, by the way…), what other things have you overlooked in life? How many times have you brushed off an opportunity to meet someone new, thinking in your head that there’s no way that someone would want to talk to you when the truth is that same person might see you from across the room and think that you’d never be bothered to give them the time of day? Have you ever been so busy trying to figure out the right thing to say to someone in a time of need that you miss out on the fact that someone may just need a sympathetic ear? A hand to hold? Another person in the room?

I’m getting a bit off track here, but my point is this. We will never be perfect people. By default, we will always have our flaws, hang-ups, and imperfections. And no matter how observant we try to be, our focus will almost certainly always be mostly on ourselves. We are, generally speaking, the most important people in our lives. But it’s probably not a bad idea, every now and again, to take a look at the world, and especially ourselves in the world, from another set of eyes. You never know what you'll see there.

The Story of My Week

Man, it's been a week.

Mind you, when I say that, I don't by any stretch of the imagination mean to imply that there was a terrible tragedy in my life this week. In fact, I can honestly say that one could consider themselves blessed to have only had to deal with the particular brand of crazy that I have over the past week.

There are highlights to the insanity. In particular, the odd adventure of the apparently deaf/mute man who first borrowed my lawnmower while only half asking, then managed to get 10 bucks out of me (and I'm still not clear on what it was for), then finished it all off by banging on my door at 3AM that same night looking for more money (which I did not provide).

This was one of many different side trips and distractions that somehow left me worn, sleep deprived, and wondering just how I got through an entire week's worth of work without pulling my hair out. It probably helped that I got my hair cut this week, preventing it from being anywhere near grasping length.

But even though I had a few minor additional stress factors, an abnormal amount of physical fatigue, and at one point I entered a state of emotional instability that I hadn't hit since high school (which is as glorious as it sounds like it might be), I really feel like I accomplished some things this week. What, you ask?

1) I learned that, despite what I may have convinced myself over the course of several years, I am still capable of feeling major emotions. Mind you, that sword swings both ways, but it's still kind of refreshing to know that.

2) I learned that I still have a pretty handy set of friends around that have my back. Mind you, some of my friends have an awful tendency to be unavailable when I sometimes think I need them, but I have a fairly stable corps of people of varying backgrounds and experience, and somehow the combination was just enough to get me through some stuff. But then really, sometimes you just need an ear to listen.

3) I think, but I'm not completely certain, that I may have become a better friend myself. Maybe getting more in tune with myself just makes me more likely to do the same with others, but I'd like to think... no really hope... that if I haven't returned the favor of being there to someone yet, that I will at some point in the future.

4) When you fall asleep with your lights on, strange people will see that as an invitation to knock on your door at 3AM. Although to be fair, the last time a weirdo did that, I'm pretty sure all of my lights were off. There shouldn't be a lot of people doing that, you know?

So what now? I couldn't say. Honestly, I feel fairly good for someone that had the week I did. And while I know that I'm always just one rogue event away from entering yet another cycle of self doubt and/or anxiety, I feel like I should have a better grip on it now. And it's very rare to say that in the course of a week, you can actually feel like you may have grown as a person.

(Although I'm inclined to note, strictly for gambling purposes, that the over/under for this new enlightened age of being is 14 days. Man, Vegas will take odds on anything...)

Natural Selection

While I work on putting the finishing touches on the last of my weekend projects (hopefully), and focus on what's next on the agenda, I have a side task that I'm working on. Of course, I've been horribly dragged into the Facebook lately, and one of the apps that I've been goofing around with is one by the name of NetworkedBlogs. Basically, it lets you link your blog to a network available on Facebook. In theory, it can save me a little time and effort if I ever want to link something from here to there (assuming I can get those elusive last few followers I need to get my links properly feeded.

Anywho, one of the things you can do while setting up the profile of your blog is to add a few select posts as sample work. And while I have no doubts I could find some interesting stuff on my own, I figured I'd put it out there. So if there's anything yu've seen or read,r ecently or otherwise, that stands out to you as exceptionally unique, entertaining, or interesting, let me know. But don't stress too much over it. Thanks in advance.

Abstract Thought of the Day

Sure, everyone wants to accuse someone of being the Anti-Christ, but no one wants to point out that Green Day seems to be freakin' everywhere these days. I'm not saying that there's a connection, but... hmm...

5 Animated Shows That any Adult Can Enjoy

(...and that kids will probably enjoy, too.)

Once upon a time, the world of animated shorts was designed exclusively for adults. What? You think those old Loony Tunes shorts were actually made for consumption by children? Have you seen some of the in jokes in those things? But somewhere, over the course of time, people decided that kids made perfect targets for animated television. So much so, in fact, that it was practically a stigma for an adult to admit that they watched a "silly cartoon."

Fortunately, over the course of time, there have been some exceptions. Shows that, while targeting children, were actually written like the kids had brains and might enjoy some decent storytelling. Not to mention that some adults (with or without children) might be able to enjoy the higher level they present themselves on.

With that in mind, I present this: a hearty handful of all ages animated programming that I feel that any grownup (especially one in my age range) would enjoy. Note that the list is restricted to shows that are currently airing new (or newish) episodes, and that for the sake of not sparking a tremendous level of debate, I have completely omitted anime from this list. It's the only way to keep five different mech based shows from being listed here.

The list, not necessarily in order of preference (although the latter part of the list does contain my favorite of favorites).

5. Johnny Test: This is an odd choice, and arguably the "kiddiest" of the kid's targeted shows on the list. But while I don't watch the show religiously, I have never seen an episode that I haven't enjoyed a great deal. It's in the vein of the Powerpuff Girls and a few other shows of a similar ilk, which may explain why it hits its points the way that it does.

Who would think that a show about a boy who ends up a guinea pig for his two sisters’ crazy laboratory experiments would have legs? Really, the show is eight shades of insane, but within the insanity and gags is a solid foundation of writing. Well, as solid as you can get in a show that does two 10 minute shorts per episode.

4. Ben 10: Alien Force: When I first heard of this show (which would technically be the in the series Ben 10), I honestly thought it sounded stupid. Okay, to be fair, I heard it pitched as effectively being a version of the old DC comic series Dial H for HERO except that the lead was a kid. So the first thought I had was, "Lame. Why not just do the actual show?" Even I have my weak moments.

But much to my surprise, this quirky little series is pretty deep. There's plot progression, overlying story arcs, and as evidenced by the show's transition to Alien Force, the main characters actually get older and wiser. I honestly like teen Ben and Gwen more than I ever did kid Ben and Gwen. And they finally get Gwen a boyfriend so that her and Ben don’t have that creepy “cousins” vibe going on. Or was that just me?

3. Transformers: Animated: This is one of those shows that took a ton of flak for being too "kiddie looking." Apparently, some people viewed that as a poor style choice for a show targeting... kids? Yeah, geeks are weird sometimes. But overlooking that one thing (made irrelevant by the fact that the style works for the show), this show is well put together.

Sure, it gets a bit goofy at times, but it doesn't play down to some imagined child's story level. And the show manages to forge new ground while paying homage to the shows that preceded it. I'm a big fan of the theme song that throws back to the original animated series. And if that doesn't work for you, the Constructicons talk with New York accents. How can you not like that?

2. Batman: The Brave and the Bold: Oh, the gripes that were heard when this show was first teased. "The art looks bad." "It's nothing like the Timm/Dini series." "Why does Batman have a lightsaber?" But once you get past all of that, what you end up with is a jazzy series that highlights some of the more over-the-top, campy facets of Batman as a superhero. Yes, it draws some very clear parallels to the old Adam West show (the Robin episode, in particular), but some would argue that that show had its serious moments at times, too.

And don't be fooled. Beneath its campy exterior, the show has some very grounded and serious overtones. Even in the middle of a comic moment, the characters still manage to display their personalities and motivations in compelling ways. And the characters... the show makes a conscious choice to go outside the box and pair Batman up with heroes and villains that only the most hardcore of Bat-fans (and even ardent DC comics readers) could ever hope to identify or recognize. Seriously, who would ever think to form an entire episode around the exploits of Crazy Quilt?

1. Spectacular Spider-Man: When what's probably my favorite super-hero of all time gets his own animated show, that's normally all I need to get hyped. But Greg Weissman and company bring something very special to the table with this one. Given the difficult task of trying to balance the early high school life of Peter Parker with a hearty helping of Peter's friends, foes, and supervillains, the crew here manages to bring it all together in a refreshing mix of drama, action, and comedy.

Some might argue that there are way too many convenient characters floating around, but that just makes it more fun to me. The fact that many of Spidey's foes start out as common hoods that he ran into before they had powers actually makes more sense in the long run, and the constant group of references from and to other cast members only serves to pay proper homage to the characters’ history and possibly set up future storylines. What else can I say about a show that makes me actually care about Venom again?

Of major note is that season 2 of Spectacular Spider-Man is set to premiere on DisneyXD very shortly, and that the potential for there being a season 3 may well depend on whether the new season gets good ratings. So make sure to check it out. I've seen most of it already, but I'll be watching it again on general principle. The show is just that good.

So that’s it. There’s a bit of a running theme with many of the shows in that they all seem kiddy on the surface but end up being deeper. They’re hardly the first shows to pull it off, but if you’re going to be stuck sitting in front of the TV with your ki… er, spend valuable family bonding time with your children, or if you’re going to be ragged on by your friends for “watching some stupid cartoon,” you might as well be caught watching a good show, right?

Abstract Thought of the Day (with Video Assist)

If you're going to make a flash mob, then you might as well make one that counts.



And when you're done, make sure you follow it up on the street outside. No one's going to call the cops on you. What would they say to them?



"This mob of people are doing the MC Hammer dance in the streets. No, I am not on any medication..."

Also, where do you bulk order those pants from? Not that I'm thinking of anything nefarious... No...

"You're hurt..." / "Lady, I'm ****ing dead!"

Or... why Dead Heat is, in fact, ridiculously awesome.

You may recall my previous commentary on this film, a half-sleeping daze of a remembrance that made me question if such a film actually existed. For that purpose (and also because during a vacation week, I am much less picky about how I spend my time), I not only made note of when it was airing again, but also recorded on my DVR. I was that dedicated to watching it in full.

What to say about this film...? As mentioned before, the plot revolves around detectives Mortis (played by Treat Williams) and Bigelow (played by... Joe Piscopo). The two get dragged into a robbery ring being committed by zombies. Yes, that is the premise, and at no point in time does the film make any apologies over it. The only thing more insane than its premise is its execution (pun, intended). It's a film that both doesn't take itself seriously yet at the same time makes its characters almost seem to care.

The writing leaves much to be desired. In fact, I will add this film to the list of things I think about when I feel like I couldn't be a professional writer. There are any number of moments that look like they came straight out of a first draft. Case in point: there's a moment mid-film where Bigelow, while attempting to enter a restricted area, shorts out a card reader using the plastic visitor's badge he was given at the entrance. No jimmying or anything; he just sticks it into the card slot and short circuits it.

Really, this film is cheese-tastic. It's rated R, but it have to have been skirting the line for PG-13. And someone should have cut the handful of sharp obscenities and graphic (but mostly comedic) violence down so that all the teens could have checked this out... wherever it was shown. I can't believe that it existed in theaters; it had to have gone straight to cable or something. I mean it wasn't Troma Films bad, but it was close.

And yet, there is a certain quality to it. Williams' Roger Mortis, who becomes unfortunately undead, faces his impending doom with a stoic, carefree attitude that eventually gives way to bouts of regret about his life and then fades completely into a delicious episode of, "F*** this!" As a side note, someone should make a TV show called, "F*** this!"

But don't let that last part convince you that the film is there for anything other than camp value. It's clearly in the "so bad it's good" category, and the only thing more amazing than the fact that it was made is that supposedly, someone actually wanted to greenlight a sequel (which, if you ever see the film, you'll know would be highly impossible to pull off). Still, I must convince someone to see this, if only so they can share in my combination joy/pain.

Having a Price

Someone really annoyed me a while back by making what they thought was an idle observation but for some reason I took personally. The accusation: that I have a price.

... No, it's not a Redford in Indecent Proposal type of price. Because if that were involved in any way, I'd be sitting on some beach somewhere counting my money right now. I never said I'd be proud of myself.

In this particular case, the question was whether or not I'd be willing to sell out the intellectual rights on a story or characters that I had if the price was right. For some reason, the notion that I might be attached to the characters personally and emotionally was insane. There had to be some number, the guy surmised, at which my principle on the matter would simply fade away. I think I ended up settling at somewhere around half a million based mostly around A) my inability to believe that any idea I had would be valued at that high a price to anyone and B) the fact that I could always pull an end around, doctor some names and details, and reinvent the main focus of the concept later. Heck, I'd have a half a million to pull it off with.

But the more I've thought about it, the more I realize it just wouldn't work. Something about the whole thing would just bother me. Now don't get me wrong. I have a ton of ideas (sane and otherwise) bouncing around in my head, and I'd wager that maybe 5-10 percent of my concepts are things that I have anything emotionally invested in. But in that group... there's some beautiful stuff. Life's dream "this is what I'd want to be remembered for when I die at the ripe age of 247 ("Take that, science!")" type of stuff. And for that, I just couldn't compromise.

It's one of the reasons that I figure that I'll never be a big Hollywood writer. I'm sure they have to bite the bullet on a regular basis. I've heard the stories where a TV series or a film ended up gnawed and prodded by its producers to the point where it was barely a shell of the show that it started out as and it makes me shudder. I wouldn't... couldn't do that to something I cared about.

So at best, I'd have to go the long route. I'd have to either establish myself with some unattached works or be financially stable enough that I can produce my own items. That way, no one can tell me what to do with my pure, precious concepts. Granted, I could probably use a little feedback here and there, but the do or die stuff stays in. That's how I feel about it.

Unless you have a half mil or so laying around. Then I just might be your word-whore. Just for one night.

...

I never said I was proud of myself.

A Brief Primer on Leaving Comments

Now, don't get me wrong. I love a good comment as much as anyone. In fact, probably more than anyone. Nothing makes my day more than seeing that a post I've made has a comment attached to it. I almost always try to post a reply (for people that might stop back by), and I'm usually so thrilled that someone's dropped by out of the blue that I will visit their page(s) and even follow them if I so choose. But that doesn't mean that I'm not paying attention to what gets said. As such, I'd just like to make this clear for the official record:

1) Any and all comments are welcome, so long as they are the opinion of the commenter and don't contain any excessively vulgar or offensive language. I retain the right to loosen or restrict this policy as needed (although I doubt I'll need to).

2) I'm perfectly fine with links being provided in comments, so long as A) they are in some way related to the post and B) they are not blatantly obvious spam posts/links. Again, this is at my discretion, but it's fairly obvious when someone has or hasn't bothered to read a post prior to making a comment.

3) Along those same lines, I could not be bothered to care about a ridiculously long rant someone generates over... well, anything. Especially if it looks like they just did a mass search for related topics, then cut and pasted said comment into every place they possibly could. Especially if they do so anonymously.

In fact, while I love a good anonymous post as much as the next person, but it goes without saying that they may come under more scrutiny. I shouldn't have bothered with this, since I know that anyone that bothers breaking any of these rules won't manage to read this anyway, but I figured I'd just put it out there.

Goooooooool!

With just a scant hour before the official end of the operation and with me seemingly not in any big rush to put any big push of work into the effort, I'm going to officially call it. With an unofficial (but what I'm calling final) count of 108 pages, I hereby claim victory in the month long crusade that was Script Frenzy. A winner is me.


After some initial trepidation over the whole thing, I have to say that it was much easier to settle into the pace of Screnzy, and overall I'd say that the goal of 100 pages was much more workable a goal than the 50,000 words that are NaNoWriMo. Although honestly, I think I have love for both projects. It's probably just that I think it much more likely that some off script that I write will get produced somehow over a novel being published. But life is odd and strange, and the exercise isn't necessarily about making something producable anyway.

Still, I will persist in torturing the wary few that come here by sharing some odd snippets here and there. But given the response I've had from when I've shared before (namely none), that may well be an exercise for the sake of doing it, too.

But enough of that. I dedicate this victory to the late Sam Johnson, who I still think about every time I sit down to write something here. I'm sure he'd enjoy this victory, as well as this victory tune, provided courtesy of Earth, Wind, and Fire:



(And yes, I realize the song has no bearing at all on anything. But I already used Kool and the Gang's Celebration for my NaNo win, and I've had this song stuck in my head for most of the day. Best Elite Beat Agents level... ever.)

At a Loss for Words...

Considering that most of the people who have seen my page no doubt either came from his page, at some point visited his page, or just knew him personally, there's no doubt in my mind that I don't have to tell most people that visit here about the passing of Sam Johnson. I'll be the first to admit that we weren't horribly close, but through our web adventures I feel like we had established a kinship of sorts.

I'm still trying to find the right set of words to say on the matter (and believe me, I will have many more words about the man), and I almost don't feel like saying much until I do have those words, but I felt like I needed to say something in the meantime. So I'll leave you with these two things regarding the man. First, his encouragement is one of the things that prompted me to get this old page up and running. And secondly, his joy of life and his embracing of his own mortality is one of the things that keeps me working on my writing, both here and in what passes for real life.

So if at any point in time you've garnered any semblance of joy, amusement, entertainment, enlightenment, or just blind distraction from anything you've seen here at the old House Rules! site, you can offer a small measure of thanks to Sam Johnson for it.

Abstract Thought of the Day

You know what? I still don't like Final Crisis, and I'm still not rereading it five times to find the inner layers. I shouldn't have to read something five times to find the inner layers.

Why Do I Choose to Punish Myself?

So Nanowrimo is months in the past, and conversely also months in the future. That's assuming, of course, that I can bring myself to take the plunge for a second consecutive year. It was rewarding, but it was also painful, stressful, and full of chaos.

So why, after enduring that and probably needing a few more months to even convince myself that I'm ready to go again, would I think about subjecting myself to the nonsense that is Script Frenzy? Why? Why not?

I've thought about it, and I've decided that it can't be any worse than Nano was. In fact, for some twisted reason, I seem to think that it should be a little easier. Of course, I've been wrong before. But at least in this case I'm considering it a few weeks before the event starts at the 1st of April.

And for anyone else that might be considering it, you have a few weeks to mull it over, too. The only plus to this is that if you choose to, you can have a writing partner. In theory, that should be helpful, but I'd imagine the wrong one could be just as detrimental.

Unfiltered: Project Nano - Chapter 2

(After the overwhelming response to last week's installment (when I said read it in parts, I didn't mean to take a month... sheesh...) we continue with excerpts from my Nanowrimo project. In this installment, we meet Danielle Brightstar, the would-be sidekick who ends up more of protagonist than I expected her to. Behold the opus that is tentatively entitled: Enter the Walkabout...)

“You have to stand behind the line, ma’am.”

“I’m sorry?”

The man behind the counter made a pushing gesture with his hands. “Behind the line, ma’am. It’s for safety purposes.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Danielle took a small step back to accommodate the clerk, bumping into the person behind her in the process. She offered a quick apology to the disgruntled woman, who responded with a series of odd clicks from beneath her cloth-wrapped face. Danielle tried to play it off and focus on what was ahead of her: the city. It was an entirely new concept for her. She had heard the word and seen the pictures, but to actually be at the gates of one was a completely overwhelming feeling. She made a futile attempt at remaining calm as she waited behind the line for her chance to get her pass. In her mind she tried to convince herself that if she couldn’t keep it together long enough to get through the gates, she couldn’t possibly handle what was past them.

No. That’s not an option... She adamantly told herself. She had set out to prove that she could make this work, and it was the exact wrong time to start having doubts about it.

“Ma’am?”

“… Yes?”

“It’s your turn, ma’am.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Danielle bit the edge of her lip at having lost focus long enough to lose track of being next. She wasn’t even inside the city gates and she had already managed to irritate a man behind a glass and a female… she still wasn’t quite sure what the thing was behind her, except to glean that it was female. Or at least she thought it was. This would take some getting used to.

* * * * * * * * *

Having cleared the main gates, Danielle made her way out of the visitor’s center and into the city proper. If she had any prior knowledge of things like stadiums or coliseums, she might be inclined to compare the walkway with the entrance to one of those. As it was, she was more able to equate it with a clearing at the end of a forest trail. She would, naturally enough, have been disappointed had what met her at the end of the walkway been as simple as a field of lilies. Needless to say, she was not disappointed.

The confining nature of the visitor’s center only led to amplify the effect of being in the city’s open space. It was like letting out a big breath to be exposed to the open air again, and Danielle found herself stopping for a moment just to take it all in. The city spanned outward into streets and buildings of various sorts, the first ones being the obvious ones you’d expect to see at a city entrance. The main street (named appropriately enough Main Street) split the city in half as it ran in a straight-line north. Side streets led off to the east and west, as the wall’s curvature made the ones nearest to it simply fade into the distance. The vendors and the wares they had for sale were both varied, spanning from the mundane and practical to the flamboyant and bizarre.

Danielle fought the voice in the back of her head trying once again to convince her that this was a big mistake. She tugged awkwardly at the edge of her animal skin skirt as she watched the various individuals make their way into and out of the area. She had figured that with the city’s diverse cultural background she wouldn’t feel quite out of place in her tribal garb, but she couldn’t help but feel that way as she watched the way things moved about.

“Hey. Nice staff.”

Danielle heard the comment from behind her and turned her head to grasp what the source was. She almost expected the individual to be addressing someone else despite the fact that she was carrying a rather large wooden staff. She was so used to carrying it with her that half the time she barely remembered that she had it. Danielle regarded the man who had come up behind her with an odd expression. “I’m sor…" She stopped herself short of saying that same phrase for what felt like the one hundredth time and instead offered a gently spoken, "Excuse me?”

“I said, ‘Nice staff.’” The frail looking man darted his head around in an attempt to avoid eye contact. By his manner, he seemed worried about what he’d just said.

Danielle had noticed as she turned her head that the man had not been looking anywhere near the vicinity of her staff. In fact, his need to repeat himself seemed more an attempt to make her clear that he had said staff, although why he’d need to do so she wasn’t entirely sure. She couldn’t think of any words that sounded like staff that she might have confused with something lewd, but she didn’t have the largest vocabulary when it came to that particular dialogue. She decided to ignore the fact that the guy had been staring at her and focus more on the fact that he chose to speak. “Can I… help you with something?” Danielle offered as a safe avenue of conversation.

The man squirmed around the issue, his head continuing the same darty movement it had before. It only helped to emphasize his uncertainty. “Are you… Bright-Star?” He chanced to look her directly in the eye for a second before darting his gaze away again. “I asked the girl with a tail and the Amazon lady, but they weren’t Bright-Star. So, um… are you her?”

Danielle turned to face the man fully. Her staff, as it had many times before, pressed into the ground next to her as she planted her feet again. Her face pressed into a soft state of confusion as she replied, “I am. Did the Guild send you?”

“Guild?” The man treated the word like it was an obscenity. “I ain’t part of no stinkin’… uh…” He tried to adjust his tone along with his response. “No, no. I’m not with the Guild. Although the guy… you’re supposed to meet a… he said to… I…”

“Just relax,” Danielle interjected with the start of a smile. “So, Mr.…”

“Weasel. Not Mr.… They… just call me Weasel.”

She could at least see where he got the name. “So, uh, Weasel… someone sent you here, right?”

Weasel bobbed his head in a weak nod.

“And the person is connected with the Guild, right?”

“Yeah. That’s right.”

“Okay. So why did they want you to meet me here? I thought I was supposed to meet my Guild sponsor at the hall.”

“You are. You were. There was a change of plans.”

Danielle’s grip on her staff tightened a little. “Change of plans? What kind of change of plans?”

Weasel shifted a little as he noticed the slight change in the woman’s demeanor. Just when he looked like he was about to dart off, he began to blabber again, “O’Bannon. He said to tell you… change of plans… new meeting… since he’s not there… He’s supposed to…”

“Calm. Down.”

Weasel snapped to attention at the slow talk like it set off some kind of trigger in his head. He took a deep breath, then started over, “O’Bannon. He’s the guy that you were supposed to meet at the hall. He told me to find you and tell you to meet him somewhere else. Somewhere closer. More convenient. For him, anyway. Uh… but I wasn’t supposed to tell you that last part.” Weasel tried to play off his miscue with a weak chuckle.

Danielle surveyed the man cautiously. For all of the things he seemed to know, she really had no idea that anything he said was true. The guy had a nature that made you feel like he shouldn’t be trusted, but at the same time he didn’t seem to be all that dangerous, either. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt for the time being.

“All right. Where does he want me to meet him?”

(Yes, Danielle's entrance is deliberately designed to offset the initial dread felt by an entire clan's worth of hardened bounty hunters. Of course, maybe her presence in the city really is the beginning of something hazardous. Time will tell. Ooh, suspense...)

Finding the Balance

So Sam Johnson decides, almost eerily, to comment on the nature of his blog and how it does and doesn't embrace factors of his life. I say eerily because I've been nursing my own commentary on the matter for the past month or so. So I figure now might be as good a time as any to explain the nature of my page.

Many times, my blog is kind of a sticky board for my travels around the web. It's useful because I used to find myself running across cool, funny, or just plain informative things and then forgetting to recheck them or revisit them. You know how it is. You screw around and that funny clip you meant to tell everyone about slips out of your mind and your web history, never to be seen again. Not to mention as things that entertain me, they do say a good deal about me and who I am. So while it might be considered a cheat of sorts, I also consider them a form of my own expression.

And certainly, I have my page as a place that I can talk about my life. I do so mainly because talking about my life is yet another way to express myself. Not to mention that there are sometimes thoughts and stories that due to lack of time or contact I just don't get around to mentioning to the people around me. I can at least point them to here when I get the chance or just speak to my invisible friend, the Phantom Reader (I bet someone has that name copyrighted, too... dang) and get it out of my system.

But like Sam, there are things I just won't talk about. In general, I won't talk about my job, except in passing or to comment that I am or have been working. Part of that is just me being professional and not dragging any potential work issues into the open, and part of that is just common sense. My page is, after all, open to just about anyone. Given my job, it just isn't practical or wise to publicize anything related to it to the public. (And no, I am not a spy like my profile claims I may be.)

Likewise, because this is public, there are things I simply don't wish to share. I like to think that the small group of people I've alerted to the site's presence (who actually bother to stop by on occasion.... guilt trip!) are trustworthy enough not to go blabbing my useless business where it isn't needed, but all the same there are some times I won't roll the dice on that. I'm still debating whether or not I should have been so open about my political views, but I stand by that as a means of coping with a political environment whose logic was testing my sanity. Not that it's gotten much better. But I digress...

And of course there is a time issue. There are weeks when I've gotten so tied up with other stuff that I haven't bothered posting things that I've already got written. Now that's just sad.

So that's it in a nutshell. I try to express myself a little and be as open as possible about the little world I live in, but you're only going to get so much out of me. Live with it. Or don't. I'll get by either way.

Unfiltered: Project Nano - Chapter 1

(Now that I've got all of the nonsense of what might have been out of the way, back to what was. This is an excerpt from what I guess would chapter 1 of the project, a little ditty that I named "Roll Call". We enter the scene as Hunter Clan Sponsor Edith Fortunado brings her weekly meeting to a halt and resident Hunter Lake O'Bannon prepares to make drag it back to activity... the hard way.)

Edith gritted her teeth at the smattering of murmurs and chuckles that protruded from the crew. If nothing else, she hated the lack of order that always presented itself during these meetings. Heck, she hated the meetings altogether. But they were a necessary evil if she wanted to keep the guild in a state that remotely resembled solvent. Not that she always cared about that, but like most people she appreciated when the lights and appliances worked. Edith waved a hand dismissively. “All right, pipe down you yahoos. Anything else?”

She took the momentary lapse of comments as reason enough to move on. “Okay, then. We can move on to new business. We’ve had a drop in our capture rate over the past quarter. This coincides, surprisingly enough, with an increase in our hunter injuries and fatalities. I don’t have to explain this to any of you, do I? Now I know there have been things going on in the guild, and far be it from me to get bent out of shape by a few of you bums getting put into the ground, but it’s affecting business. The bottom line is the bottom line, and right now we’re leaning more towards red no matter how you look at it.”

Edith gave her small play on words time to hit some of the slower witted members over the head a few times before continuing. “The important thing to remember is to be careful. I know half the city thinks that we’re expendable, but we are actually providing a service here. Contrary to popular belief, if we don’t do our jobs right, the city does suffer. But enough with the pep talk…” The woman had to resist the urge to smirk at the notion before continuing, “On to other business. We have a walkabout today.”

The statement drew more attention than any other one in the morning had. Just about every head in the assemblage perked up and directed its attention to the front. Even a few of the sleeping folks snapped awake at the word. It had been a while since there had been a walkabout in the guild. It had been long enough that some people had never encountered one in their entire career. For anyone familiar with the process, there was the usual mix of emotions flowing through the room. There was the standard order of idle curiosity. There was a sprinkle of novelty. But mostly, there was the fear. The horrible, all enclosing fear of the words that would next be spoken.

“I need a volunteer.” Edith timed the comment for the appropriate mix of drama and amusement. The amusement was mostly hers, of course, but there were a handful of people masochistic enough to find potential joy in the outcome. She brushed her hand in a dismissive fashion. “Aw, don’t cry, ya bunch of babies! I’m not stupid enough to expect any of you putzes to actually volunteer. In fact, I’ve come up with a method that’s more than fair. I think I’ll just consider the lucky victim to be the next person to walk through the door. Yep, that’ll do it. The very next person to walk through that door will be our lucky volunteer.”

There was a certain anticipation in her proclamation that had eluded some of the guild, but like a wave the realization of what was happening was starting to become apparent. A low-based murmuring linked itself to a pattern of individuals checking the clock that hung over the door. Anyone that checked saw that it was clearly twelve minutes after their meeting start time. Anyone with even a trace of sense knew that it was Wednesday. And everyone that knew a certain individual knew that by some manner of habit or heavenly decree, a certain member of their guild almost certainly showed up exactly thirteen minutes late for any Wednesday meeting. So it was with great revelry and a modicum of satisfaction that the group welcomed its tardy compatriot into the room.

Lake O’Bannon strolled into the room in matter of fact fashion. Neither his demeanor nor his appearance would indicate that he was in any rush to get inside. On the contrary, nothing that Lake did gave faintest hint that he was on the verge of either sneaking to his seat or apologizing for being late. It had already been well established that the time that Lake reported in on Wednesday was pretty much his own prerogative.

The popular theory was that Lake had some mystery rendezvous on Tuesday nights that kept him preoccupied, but his general lack of a good mood on Wednesday precluded them from associating him with the usual pleasantries that a “secret rendezvous” would entail. Others carried the popular theory that Lake had some early morning regimen on Wednesday that made him late, but again there were no outward signs that he was exhausted from workout, peaceful from meditation, or (as previously mentioned) in a pleasant mood from any other unsavory activity. A few guild members had bothered to attempt to track him on Wednesday morning to see just what the deal was. The few that remained intact long enough to report to anyone else brought the dismal news that Lake was late simply because he was, and it seemed to just be a matter of fate conspiring to make sure he was never on time on Wednesday. Whatever the reason, today it was bound to provide some much needed entertainment for the meeting.

Lake paused after entering the doorway, adjusting the cuff of his leather jacket as he mumbled something best left incoherent under his breath. It took him a handful of seconds to notice that something was out of sorts… more out of sorts than usual in the group. Too many people seemed pleased to see him. He had found in general practice that too many people happy to see him was rarely a good thing.

“Mr. O’Bannon. So lovely to see you today. And at such an appropriate time, too. “ Edith Fortunado grinned an impish smile that her lack of stature made appear even more so. A few of the guild members reflected the same mock enthusiasm that Edith did, and that was when Lake truly grasped how screwed he was.

Lake let a short huff of air slip out of his lips before starting his query. “What? Am I getting docked? Am I getting written up for that ganger I cracked last week? Am I getting docked for cracking that ganger last week? Am I getting cracked for docking that ganger last week?”

The room hung in silence for the reply of their leader. They knew this was just the opening volley in a classic exchange. Edith debated letting the noose tighten a little more before the big reveal, but decided that there was really no reason to drag it out too far. Besides, all of this pleasantry was wearing on her own nerves. Edith propped a hand against her podium. “I was just informing everyone about the walkabout we just acquired.”

Lake fought back a grimace at the mention of the word, a successful effort that he managed to bend into a small smirk. “Walkabout, huh? Haven’t we got enough crap floating around here without one of those making it worse?” Lake had absolutely no qualms about tossing a general insult out in a room of what should be his allies. Heaven knows they would be more than willing to do the same should the opportunity arise. Still, the comment seemed to raise the dander of at least a few of the assembled, many of whom showed their disapproval by shifting in their seats and glaring.

Edith coughed out a monosyllable of disapproval to the question. “Could be.” Edith had the same lack of regard as Lake did in the matter, but at least she had the pull to not be worried about reprisals, “But for better or worse, we’ve got one. And now that I have a volunteer for walkabout duty, I don’t have to worry about it all that much.

“Volunteer?” Lake’s smirk gathered a hint of actual amusement. “What poor fool would be insane enough to volunteer for walkabout du…” It was about that time that he managed to piece it all together. The pleasantries, the general joy he seemed to be bringing part of the room, the fact that he hadn’t been docked yet… there had to be a payoff somewhere for Edith, and there it was. His entire demeanor shifted to one of annoyance. “Oh, no. No, no, no. You are not shackling me with one of those... things for the week. I did my time two years ago and I was done. Find some other sucker with a death wish to do your dirty work for you.”

Edith’s tone took an abrupt shift of its own, “Now you wait just a minute! You think fair play applies in all guild matters? The truth is this has been coming for a long time. Breaking rules, not following protocols, damage tallies way beyond your class level allowance… and every time I try to call you on it, you have some half-cocked excuse or some convenient break of fortune that keeps my hands tied. You’ve slipped through more loopholes and backdoors than I can count, but not today, bucko! I’ve been waiting to screw you over for a long time now, and now you're gonna get what’s coming to you!”

For a brief moment, Lake seemed genuinely taken aback by Edith’s diatribe. His left eyebrow arched upward as he perused his employer’s face. His lips parted calmly as he carefully sorted out his response.

“Say… are you coming on to me?”

The smattering of chuckles from the audience was more than enough to break the tension for most of them. Some of the guild had gotten a bit restless in the brief pause that preceded Lake’s comment. A few foolish souls actually dared to assume it possible that Lake was honestly repentant and on the verge of apologizing for his past actions. They were more than pleased to see that that was not the case.

Edith Fortunado, on the other hand, was anything but amused. Her face began to flare an almost trademark shade of red, and it was abundantly clear to any of the guild members who had seen it occur before that it was not a blush of embarrassment.

“Do you think…” Edith fought to maintain anything that resembled civility as her temper railed against her better judgment, “… for one second… that I would ever… within the confines of my mind… “ Edith pointed towards Barnard, who flinched at the motion despite the lack of flames shooting from her fingertip, “… his mind… or within the very depths of hell itself even remotely consider coming onto you? In what bizarre freakshow of a world does my utter contempt and rage for you possibly translate into anything that even resembles attraction? You… you… you’re lucky I don’t leap off of here and throttle the life out you with my bare hands!” Her body began slowly tremble, making some fear that she might actually leap from her podium in some kind of suicidal plunge at her contemptuous employee.

Lake, for his part, seemed unfazed by this newfound rage. In fact his own demeanor had improved a good deal, though an apt observer could clearly see that he was by no means happy. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he mused aloud to no one in particular, “Well, I can’t say where it came from, exactly. It was just the wording there. ‘Half-cocked,’ ‘loophole,’ ‘backdoor.’ You know in some circles, even the word 'throttle'…”

Edith banged her fist on the top of her podium and pointed an aged finger at Lake. “All right! Not another word out of you! You’re taking the walkabout, and so help me if I hear anything other than rave reviews about your behavior, I'll bounce you out of here on your smug little backside!”

Lake clearly had something else to say on the matter, but he remained silent. Of his many social skills, the ability to know just how far he could push someone before he had crossed the point of no return was probably the most finely honed. It was clear he didn’t love this particular turn of events, but it was also clear that short of getting himself removed from the guild there wasn’t much else he could do to get out of this. With a certain sense of resignation, he turned and headed back towards the door he had so recently entered.

“And just where do you think you’re going, hot shot?” Edith queried to his back.

Lake didn’t bother to turn around, stopping as he reached the door. “In accordance with Article 4, Paragraph 8 of the Provisional Guild Agreement with the Free States, any member enacted into volunteer duty with a walkabout may, at their discretion, forgo standard guild protocols when interacting with said walkabout. Pursuant with this, I’m enacting a special preparatory meeting to prepare for said walkabout. This meeting, coincidentally enough, will force me to miss the rest of this one. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

As the door shut with Lake on the opposite side of it, Edith Fortunado quietly grinded her teeth together. “I am so docking him for cracking that ganger last week…”

(Lengthy, sure, but I really like the entire exchange between the two. Besides, I haven't posted anything else all week. Read it in parts if you have to. Until next time, when I think I'll spend a little time breaking down some of the who, what, and why of the story elements...)