Anadeia 37

The plan was set into motion. Joelle’s PO Box was located inside a UPS store near a Baskin Robins and mattress store in some sleepy suburb of Reno. Dale concealed himself with a fake mustache and sideburns along with a pair of brown shaded aviators; a classic look. With the killing he made at the blackjack tables, he bought a blue Porsche 911 because it was named after his favorite holiday.

“I bought this Porsche so that I will never forget,” Dale said.

“Forget what?” I ask.

“9/11”

Old Jim came around and decided he’d like to participate in the stakeout as well. He shaved off his beard and dyed his hair jet black and it was then I suspected he was much younger than he appeared. “What year did your brother die?” I asked him.

“Nineteen hundred and twelve.”

“Goddamn Jim! How old are you ?!”

“I don’t think I’m that old.”

Dale was to park the brand new Porsche in front of the UPS store and lookout for suspicious passersby. Jim was to observe the whole operation from inside the Baskin Robbins. Meanwhile, I was disguised in fake dreadlocks and tattoos and a Liverpool FC jersey in front of the mattress store while carrying a sign advertising a reduced sale on mattresses. I was going over the plan while Jim ordered some ice cream.

“Vanilla please,” he requested from the server.

“Jim, we have all these flavors and you decide on vanilla?” I asked.

“I’m just a plain ol country boy,” he explained. “When I was a kid growing up in the bayous of Loosieana, an old Cajun man would give us some of his homemade vanilla ice cream. The kids would ask how he made this ice cream and he’d ask us ‘have you ever milked a bull before?’ and then he’d take us into the swamps and drop his pants…”

I cut him off. “I’m sure this is a fascinating story,” I said, “but we must get to work. Do you have your walkie talkie?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know how to use it?”

He holds up the walkie talkie. “Just press this button right here?” he said.

“Correct. I’ll be across the street. If you think you see Joelle, just radio through. Got it?”

“Yes sir.”

I exit the Baskin Robins carrying the large red sign and proceed to my position in front of the mattress store. As I cross the street, I’m nearly hit by oncoming traffic and a man rolls down his car window and yells at me.

“Cut off them dreads you honky ass mother fucker!” he yells.

“I’ll have you know, sir, that I’m half Pakistani!” I say.

The man speeds off and I finish crossing the road. I look to Dale parked in front of the UPS store and he nods.

The show was on.

I spin the sign with furious passion in front of my body and behind my back. I was a dancing fool. After a few minutes, cars began piling into the mattress store parking lot with customers searching for a great deal. The manager stepped outside and tapped me on the shoulder.

“Excuse me sir,” he said, “but I didn’t hire you and I’m definitely NOT selling mattresses for a $1.99.”

“This is official police business,” I lie. “Now kindly fuck off.”

“Police business?” he asks. “Can I see a warrant?”

“Yeah I have a warrant right here,” I say and I lift my foot and sock him right in the ballsack. While he was writhing on the ground, I give him a final warning. “There’s my warrant,” I say. “And if you have a complaint, you can take it up with the Washoe County Sheriff’s Department. Have a nice day.”

Figuring the Sheriff’s Department would show up at any moment, we didn’t have much time.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Diamonds r 4eva commentary (part XII)

There comes a point in every Bond movie where one tends to forget the plot and just sits back and enjoys the action. For me, and perhaps for many others, that moment comes at the arrival in Los Angeles. But if it doesn’t come there then it DEFINITELY comes during the Circus Circus sequence. And as a result, to my knowledge, I don’t think anyone has ever questioned the logic of this scene.

To set it up, after Plenty O’Toole is dispensed with, Tiffany seduces Bond into giving up the diamonds by convincing him that she’ll run off with him to Hong Kong. Bond plays along with this deception by instructing her to pick up the diamonds at Circus Circus, a major hotel and casino. To make any sort of sense in what follows, here’s what I think the plan was (which is never explicitly stated): Bond, a British Intelligence agent, was operating on US soil. For a foreign agent to legally do that, they must do so under the supervision of American intelligence which, in the case here, is the CIA and Felix Leiter. The rendezvous at Circus Circus was the contact point where Bond was to turn over the operation to Felix with Bond acting as a fail safe option should the CIA lose track of Tiffany Case by meeting her at the car rental agency. But Bond plainly stated that this is a 50/50 shot which explains why he was on Felix’s ass; if the CIA lost track of her, there was no guarantee that Bond would catch up with her. So when the inevitable happened and the Felix lost track of her and she subsequently failed to show up at the car rental agency, Bond took a blind guess and found her at her house.

If this is the case then the CIA did a piss poor job. Why would they make it painfully obvious to Tiffany Case that she was being followed? Was the plan to follow her or apprehend her? To my reasoning, it had to of been the latter in order to get her to cooperate with Bond in the British intelligence investigation. In that case, why not apprehended her immediately after she collected the diamonds? Did the CIA not want to make a scene?

I know what Cubby Broccoli’s response is: who gives a shit?

This is what they call in the biz “movie magic” where we don’t have to worry about things like “realism” or “plot”. We just have to shut our brains off and enjoy the spectacle.

And what a spectacle it is! Within the stretch of just over four minutes, we’re exposed to trapeze artists, elephants playing slot machines, human women transforming into gorillas, and even a cameo by the owner of Circus Circus himself as a mad scientist. It’s no wonder we lose track of the plot! This scene isn’t so much a part of a movie as it is an advertisement for the Circus Circus Hotel and Casino.

But there’s two moments I’d like to highlight. First is the moment where Tiffany collects the diamonds hidden in a stuffed animal. While at the blackjack table, she’s instructed to play the water balloons. She wins the “prize” (the diamonds) and a kid correctly calls out that the game was rigged. Tiffany tells the kid to “blow up his pants”, which is a line that could have only been written by Mankiewicz. To be honest, I’ve seen this movie more times than I care to admit but each time I think she’s gonna say “fart out your ass kid!”.

That’s all I got to say about that.

The second moment is when Tiffany realizes she’s being followed and enters the “Zambora” exhibit to elude her pursuers. An announcer explains “Zambora” as the “strangest woman ever born to live” which seems like a redundant statement.

But anyway! Back to the plot…

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia 36

I hitchhiked towards I-80 where Old Jim was holed up in a Motel 6. A cabbie picked me up and I climbed into the front seat where the driver tore me a new one. “Are you some sort of dumbass?” he shouted. “Don’t you know how dangerous hitchhiking is? I should beat the hell out you for being a moron!”

“Look brother,” I retorted, “I’ve been hitchhiking all my life and I’ve only been stabbed twice. Furthermore, I am armed with a Colt Python and a crisp $20 bill. So would you like the 20 bucks or a wadcutter to the belly?”

The cabbie shut his trap and put the vehicle in drive and we journeyed towards the interstate in cordial silence. When I arrived, I climbed out the passenger door while the petrified driver was itching to say something. When he did, he asked if he could have the $20.

“I see that the fare came to $19.98,” I said. “Do you have two pennies?”

The cabbie swallowed hard before reaching into his wallet to dig for two golden pieces of useless copper. He found plenty of quarters, dimes, nickels, and Iraqi dinars but only one penny. He held the lone coin silently while sensing his doom.

“I’ll tell you what bucko,” said I, “how about I shut this door and you go about your merry way?”

I took the cabbie’s non-response as an agreement so I closed the door and the cab slowly rolled out of the parking lot. It was another successful hitchhike.

Inside the motel room, I found Jim siting alone in his longjohns with a spit cup and playing solitaire. He left the air conditioning off which under the Nevada heat made the room unbearable. I sat the plastic bag of goods I bought on the dresser; some Rogaine, razors and shaving cream.

“How have you been holding up Jim?” I ask him.

Jim picks up his styrofoam spit cup and spits out a wad of long cut tobacco. “About as well as you could expect,” he said. “Where have you boys been?”

“Dale’s been killing it on the tables. I don’t know why but luck has blessed us here. We stayed in a suite last night.”

“A suite? Well Ain’t that somthin’” he said, spittin another wad.

“Look, I’m gonna need you to shave and dye your hair. We’re going undercover.”

“Shave? Dye?”

“Yes. That’s what all this shit here is for.”

His dead grey eyes hinted at a lack of comprehension. Perhaps being left alone in motel room for days on end resurrected his dementia so I folded on my demand. “You know what, nevermind,” I said. “Is there anything you can tell me about Joelle? Something we’ve never discussed?”

“Joelle?” he asked.

“Yes. The Madam.”

“Oh she’s a darlin’. How’s she doin these days?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t talked to her yet.”

“What’s she been up to?”

“Apparently pimping out whores again.”

Jim chuckled. “That madam, she’s a character.”

“What’s her relationship with Randy like?”

“Randy?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I mumbled under my breath. “Anyway, I’m gonna go see her soon”.

“What fur?”

I paused and thought. “I guess the day of judgement comes for all of us,” I said.

“Mmm,” said Jim, spitting again. “You know, I’ve been thinking about my own judgment. I suppose I should be thanking the lord for blessing me with a long life. I’ve watched so many of my friends die. They were good men. And they were evil men too. I think about them a lot. I suppose that’s all I do nowadays. But then I think, maybe there is no god. Why must my brother die of cholera at six years old while I, a man who slayed another for a pack of cigarettes, gets to live a long life? Then I think maybe my brother is the blessed one and that hell lies not below our feet but lasts as long as we breathe. Funny things a man thinks in his old age.”

That night, I made Old Jim stay with us in the suite.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia 35

The next morning, I watched the prostitute climb out of bed and put on her black brazier and panties and I laid in bed naked as she lowered her shirt and grabbed her belongings. “Can I know your name?” I ask her.

“No,” she said.

“Well, what if I want to get in touch with your services again?”

She reached into her purse and pulled out a white business card. “Just call this number,” she told me.

Without looking at it, I placed it on the nightstand and crawled out of bed to put on my underwear. “So what do I owe you?” I ask.

“$15,000,” she said.

“Jesus Christ!” I shouted out loud. Strangely, that was the exact amount that the Dr. Phil slot machine spat out the night before. So I handed her $15,000 all in 20 dollar bills and she was on her way.

“Can I at least get you a drink?” I ask her on the way out.

“Fuck no.”

And she closed the door behind her.

Meanwhile, Dale came cackling out of his bedroom door with two other sex workers. I stood in the foyer in only my underwear while that gaggle proceeded to the kitchen while grabbing each other’s asses and I scratched my ass and followed them in there. “Dale, it seems like you had a pretty good night,” I said.

“You’re damn right I did!” he said while pouring champagne into everyone’s glass. “Didn’t you?”

“Yeah well, ya know. I think I had the whiskey dick. $15,000 down the toilet.”

“Ah man, that sucks. Well anyway, this is Danica and Delilah,” Dale said, referring to the two women as they both gave me a flirty wave. “Ladies, I have enjoyed your company but it’s time to bid you adieu.”

The ladies sighed and Dale shoved numerous $50 bills into their bras and sent them on their way. He put on his silk robe and joined me in gaudy living room where the bright Reno skyline shown through the window. He poured himself more champagne then sat down on the couch where he briefly flashed his nutsack before crossing his legs. “All we have to do is maintain this level of luck and we’ll have Randy’s attention in no time! Easy as pie,” he said.

“Yeah,” I shrugged.

“Don’t feel so down,” he told me. “You’ll have your revenge. Maybe we need to call some more hookers tonight to cheer you up! Just don’t drink so much today.”

“Yeah. Yeah!” I tried to convince myself. “More hookers! That’s the ticket!”

I go to the bedroom to retrieve the business card. Before I could hand it to Dale, I catch a glimpse of a name: “For a good time, contact Joelle” it said on the card.

“Fuck,” I uttered.

“What?” asked Dale with his hand out waiting to receive the card.

“Does a name on here ring a bell?”

Dale took the card and tried to make sense of it. “No?” he said.

“Joelle was the name of the madam at the Candyland brothel!”

“And?”

“And? Are you stupid? This might be the same Joelle!”

“Does it have an address on it?”

“Only a PO Box.”

“Should we stake it out?”

“We’ve got to!”

Dale finished his champagne and scratched his nipple. Then a look of consternation fell over his face. “What do we do if we catch her?” he asks.

I hadn’t thought of that so I rubbed my chin and considered our options. “Well, I guess we corner her and question her,” I said.

“I dunno,” Dale said. “I say we tail her and follow her around a bit. We gotta know what we’re getting ourselves into.”

I agreed. “Then we need to find disguises,” I suggested. “We should have done that anyway before we came into town.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Dale said. “I’ll go put some pants on.”

“You do that,” I said. “I’m gonna go check on Old Jim.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia 34

In these dying days I sat staring at the loud floral carpet on the casino floor which concealed ages of cigarette stains and dried up vomit while the jolly jingles of slot machines and video poker provided a hallowed sense of revelry. Reno was a dime store conception of a good time. I thought my return to civilization after months in the wilderness and endless days in a desolate brothel would restore my joviality and lust for life. Instead it brought forth blitheness and disdain.

Perhaps it was the hidden presence of Randy who remained as a shadow in the streets which ceaselessly haunted me. Somehow I felt that he knew we were here. I wondered what I could say to the man who was the architect of my nightmare.

I dropped a quarter into the slot. The wheels on the “Dr. Phil” machine spun and landed on three mustaches in a row. An endless amount of silver coins spat out into the troth and the voice of Dr. Phil announced in his Texas draw “Congratulations! You won a lot of money! But you’re playing a slot machine in Reno, Nevada. It’s time to make a change in your life!”

Maybe this was a good omen, I told myself. I collect the coins and stop a barmaid. “Excuse me miss,” I say, “I’d like a rum and coke, a tequila, and a Bloody Mary please.” Then I drop a wad of 50s on her tray.

“Your drinks are already paid for sir,” she said.

“By whom?” I ask.

“By that gentleman over there.”

She points to Dale, decked out in a Tom Ford suit and stogie in his mouth, at the blackjack table. I should have known, I thought. The barmaid brought me the drinks and I immediately swallow the tequila and rum and coke and then I stumbled over to the table and take a seat next to Dale.

The croupier drops two kings in front of Dale and he laughs while cigar ash drops on his lap. “Hit me!” he says.

“Dale, you’re fucking insane,” I tell him.

“Yeah but look at all these chips!” he says. Indeed he had thousands of dollars worth of chips stacked on the table.

“But you pushed them all in you idiot!”

The dealer tossed him another card and he flipped it over. To my astonishment it was an ace. “Goddamn I’m unstoppable!” Dale declared. He doubled his earnings and hauled all his chips towards him. “Daddy’s eatin’ good tonight!” he cheers.

We cash out then waltz on over to the casino buffet. I get a bowl of ice cream and Dale slops heaps of mashed potatoes, chicken, and green beans onto multiple plates. We take a seat near the slots and Dale digs in. “You were fucking careless on that last hand!” I tell him.

Dale looks up from his plate. “What? You think I’m stupid?” he asks.

“Frankly, yes.”

He picks up his fork and points up to the ceiling. “Look up there,” he says. I look up and see hundreds if not thousands of cameras pointing down. “See those cameras?” he continues. “They see everything we do. I don’t know how much money I won tonight but it’s damn sure more than what I walked in here with. And the house knows that. At this very second, this establishment is losing money on me and they can’t permit that. Perhaps word will spread about me. Every casino will be looking out for us, which might, god willing, get the attention of Randy. Since we can’t go to Randy, we’ll make Randy come to us. Right now, I suspect management is trying to figure out a way to keep my money in the casino. So in a few minutes, they’ll probably approach us with their finest suite.”

I scratched my head. “So you think that’ll get the attention of Randy?”

“Of course!” he said while shoveling another heap of green beans in his mouth. “If there’s one thing I know is that all these gangster types are in with the casinos.”

“But what if we start losing money?”

“Well, we just have to make sure we never lose to the house,” he shrugged.

I raised one eyebrow.

But minutes later, Dale’s calculations were proven correct. A gaunt fellow with slick backed hair and a bright blue blazer approached our table with a smile and a handshake. “Congratulations gentleman,” he told us, “you two have had a remarkable night at our casino. As a compliment, we would like to welcome you to our hotel as esteemed guests. Our finest suite awaits you with champagne and all the usual refinements.”

Dale looked at me with a victorious expression and we got up from our table and followed the man into the hotel lobby where a porter escorted us to our top floor suite. The porter unlocked the door and we were greeted with all the garishness and extravagance that Reno had to offer. Dale was in awe as he looked around the room and then he looked at me with arms wide open. “What did I tell you? What did I tell you?!” he beamed.

“Is there anything else I can get you gentlemen?” the porter asked.

“Yes. Two whores please,” said Dale.

I looked at the porter wondering if such a request could be granted. Then the porter looked at me. “And for you sir?” he asks.

“Uh, I too would like two whores,” I responded.

The porter nodded. “Four whores coming right up,” he said.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Diamonds r 4eva (part XI)

Perhaps you wouldn’t believe me if I told you, but Diamonds Are Forever is one of the few movies where James Bond shags ONE woman only. It’s true. I’ve done the math. After years of research, I’ve concluded that Bond has bedded with absolute unambiguity 56 women across 25 films. This comes to exactly 2.24 women per film, meaning that DAF is well below the average. In fact, we don’t see these low of numbers again until Casino Royale and Quantum of Solace. Did you know THAT? Yes, in CR, Bond only has coitus with Vesper. He came close with Solange, but if you recall, that attempt was cut short by a trip to Miami. And in QoS, Bond only sleeps with Strawberry Fields and NOT the female lead Camille. Again, Diamonds Are Forever was ahead of its time. People THINK that prior to Daniel Craig, Timothy Dalton was the first to only sleep with one woman in The Living Daylights in 1987 (as a way to put a cap on 007’s promiscuity in a response to the AIDS epidemic). But this is a false assumption: in TLD, Bond DEFINITELY has sex with a bikini-clad woman on a yacht in the cold open IN ADDITION to sleeping with Maryam d’Abo’s Kara, meaning that Bond slept with TWO women in TLD which puts that film only slightly below the average.

The numbers don’t lie, folks.

Yet it seems like Bond is just as promiscuous as we have come to expect in Diamonds Are Forever. Why is that?

I think it’s for a few reasons: 1) it’s clearly the 1970s, the most disgusting and shameless decade in human history. 2) Bond interacts with a total of four bikini-clad women throughout the film, two of which kick the shit out of him. 3) Plenty O’Toole. 4) Bond is shown rolling around and implied naked TWICE in bed with a woman.

On the first point, there’s something scummy about the 1970s that give the impression that Bond is out raw-dogging every woman he comes across in Las Vegas (and perhaps he is, but it’s never shown on film). On the second point, while I haven’t ran the numbers on the amount of bikini clad women per film (if I had to guess, YOLT blows this average out of the water), it seems like DAF is a bit above the average. Astute observers of the third point will recall that Bond doesn’t actually sleep with Plenty O’Toole. And on the final point, while showing Bond shirtless and in bed with a woman TWICE is actually slightly above average for a Bond film, in DAF, both times it is with Tiffany Case.

Now let me drop another truth bomb: since we’re at the point in the story where Bond links back up with Tiffany in Las Vegas, he is seen briefly holding his signature Walther PPK. It’s one of the few moments in DAF where he does so. And throughout the film, Bond NEVER kills someone by firing a bullet and, indeed, never fires a bullet at all. I will admit my research may be a little fuzzy, but I will assert that this is the only film where this occurs.

Don’t believe me? Let’s break down the numbers shall we. According to my estimation, James Bond kills 8 people in DAF. Their methods of death are as follows:

2 by drowning. 1 by repeated stabbing. 1 by thrown off balcony. 1 shot in the head by grappling hook. 1 by aquatic vehicle bodily trauma (presumably). 1 by fire. 1 by explosion.

Total: 8 deaths.

If you will note, one individual is shot in the head. HOWEVER, Bond does not do this using a traditional gun but a GRAPPLING gun. That’s a huge distinction. It should also be noted that Blofeld’s final death could be disputed. We don’t actually see him perish and if you recall the cold open to For Your Eyes Only, Blofeld reappears badly injured only to meet his actual death by falling into a smokestack (is FYEO the direct sequel to DAF? You be the judge). This would be James Bond’s actual death toll in DAF down to 7.

For as much flack as DAF receives, it could be argued that this is where James Bond is at his most humane.

TO BE CONTINUED…

The Internet Ruined Everything

“You think people was meaner then than they are now? the deputy said.
The old man was looking out at the flooded town. No, he said. I don’t. I think people are the same from the day God first made one.”

-Cormac McCarthy, Child of God

The revolt of the bourgeois has beckoned the end of days because fame, fortune, and power begets not spiritual fulfillment but spiritual degeneracy. The Peter Thiels and the Sam Altmans and the Elon Musks of the world witnessed the warnings of science fiction and found inspiration; where others saw impending doom, they saw a reprieve from their crippling deprivations.

And the vehicle for their apocalypse is the Internet.

When you spend hours upon hours watching YouTube commentary about, well, other YouTubers, it’s easy to see how one could draw this conclusion; maybe the internet has exported this spiritual depravity onto the masses. One would have be devoid of their humanity to not feel heartbroken by witnessing others debase themselves for an audience’s amusement.

The legend of Chris Chan has permeated the internet for years, if not decades, now and perhaps it is the start of self-reflection for the legions online; Chris Chan’s followers encouraged their self destructive behavior and, after years later and the numerous real-world consequences that followed, the internet finally asked itself “did we go too far?”. For me, this legend is more than about Chris Chan; the audience, too, willed this upon the world.

Chris Chan ushered in the “lolcow” phenomenon which was my entry point into the world of long-form YouTube commentary. Spend any amount of time on the platform and you’ll find that there’s no shortage of video essays on this tale. But the authors of these essays not only cover the tragedy of Chris Chan, but they also explore the rise and fall of their peers. Here, I am specifically referencing Turkey Tom and Cruel World Happy Mind, two well-researched scholars of internet history.

But after months of mindlessly binging their videos, I have arrived at a concerning question: are all YouTubers, or indeed all content creators across all platforms, playing a dangerous game of thrones? Can one misstep lead to the summoning of wolves from their peers? I’m thinking of Turkey Tom specifically but this is true for all of us: we better make goddamn sure that we aren’t throwing stones from a glass house.

While the introduction of the internet has enriched our understanding of psychology, mental health, history, science, etc. it also has the unintended effect of dehumanization. To the creator, they are the main character to a scripted stage. And the viewer obeys, seeing the content through the prism of story and arc. In other words, the creator becomes another product among the plethora of objects to consume. And the platform itself, operated by the cold and hard calculations of value extraction, profits off our alienation.

But this is a tale as old as time. There is nothing new under the sun. The internet is only the latest tool of dehumanization used in the hands of the rarified elite. For millennia, kings and queens and billionaires have used religion, slavery, warfare, nationalism, and newspapers to other and dehumanize for their own gain. And we, the masses, have willfully adopted their cruel panorama of human affairs.

The skeptic might view the king and billionaire as a comrade to cynicism. But as it has been revealed, there is nothing cynical about the Thiels and the Altmans and the Musks. They see themselves as the arbiters of human value and the internet is a living avatar of this psyche.

Yet religion, slavery, warfare, and nationalism persist. There’s no putting the nuclear paste back in the tube. But we can restore our value and diminish our technological epoch’s stranglehold to fight against the violent bombardment from our nihilistic overlords. And we can save the day….

…until the next paradigm shift.

Anaideia 33

The eyes of the man, our captor, widened in awe at the horrifying and unbridled majesty of Penelope. He was slow to raise arms, not that it would have mattered, and his comrades scrambled to figure a plan of attack. The captor on the right opened fire but the speed of a bullet was no match for Penelope’s supernatural and inhuman powers. She lashed out at her attacker, reaching for his ankles and smashed his body into a bloodied mess on the cavern wall. The captor on the left panicked and attempted to flee but was met with claws burrowing into his belly and bits of stomach and intestines spewed out.

The man was speechless and three of us in the cage were powerless with him. He was alone and Penelope towered over him then hissed and the man fell to his knees to beg forgiveness from a seeming beast that knew no mercy. “Penelope,” he pleaded with tears streaming down his face, “you’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever witnessed! I never meant you no harm! Please! Can you find the humanity within yourself to let me go?! Your blood is my blood! You can have all this land! It’s been in my family for generations! It’s all yours! All I’ve ever wanted was a continuation of your kind!”

I looked deep into her glowing yellow eyes and for my sake and the sake of Dale and Old Jim, I prayed that there was a shred of humanity buried deep within her. But if there was, she wasn’t prepared to share it with the man on his knees. She raised her giant right hand and swatted it at the man’s head, knocking it clean off and it rolled towards the cage. When it stopped, it revealed to us that the last sensation that man ever knew was abject terror.

I looked at the head and then at Penelope. She approached the cage and glared at us intensely and it was the first time I had ever gotten a clean look at her face. She didn’t hiss or growl. She looked at me not with malice but with curiosity and while her alien features were apparent, I also saw the human. Though behind a cage and of no threat, I raised my hands in the air. “Penelope, I don’t know if you can understand me,” I said, “but I want to thank you for freeing us. I have a greater understanding of you now. I beg of you to let us be. We will not pursue you or harm you in any way.”

She studied us for what felt like eternity and then she placed her face close to the cage and I lower my hand. She sniffed at it for a bit before blinking then standing straight up and once again revealing her majesty. She blinked once more indicating her farewell then rushed out of the cavern like a fading dream.

I exhaled a sigh of relief and immediately crawled out from the bottom of the cage towards Vic. He was barely alive. His intestines were splayed out on the ground while his legs laid several feet away. I knelt down by his side to give him a sense of comfort before he died.

“Thank you for rescuing me,” I said as I laid my hand on his chest.

But in his dying daze he looked at me and with his last bit of strength, he reached up and grabbed me by my throat and blood spewed from his mouth he uttered his dying words. “I’m dead because of you!” he gurgled.

I struggled to pry his fingers from my neck and Dale rushed to my side to wrestle away his arm. But his strength slowly gave way and his eyes rolled back in his head and his hand fell flatly to the ground. And when he released me, I fell backwards and coughed uncontrollably to regain my breath.

“Christ!” I spat out.

Dale did a Hail Mary to mourn the passing of Vic then laid his hands on his eyes to close them. “Do we bury him?” he asked.

I look around to the cavern to the other bodies splayed about then I stand up to look at the carcass of the dead Scotsman once more. “Leave him,” I said. “This was what he wanted.”

I unlatched the cage to free Jim and the three of us traversed the narrow chambers of the cave and up to the opening where evening greeted us. On the outside we felt like three fallen angels that had escaped our hellish torment. Then each of us mounted one of the three horses deserted by our captors and proceeded down the trail.

We said nothing to each other.

As night fell and the moon hovered gloriously above the mountain tops, I saw Penelope silhouetted against the sky like a lone specter haunting the valley. She watched us trot away and then she disappeared into the darkness.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia 32

Vic wiped the blood of the knife on his faded pant leg. The body of the prisoner whitened as the darkened blood flowed from his body and mixed into the sand beneath our feet. Dale, usually calloused to these sights, growled and moaned. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he told Vic.

“I won’t say it again mate,” he warned, “I had little option.”

“You should’ve stabbed me instead,” said Old Jim.

Vic spat and knelt down in front of the bamboo which caged us in. He began sawing away at the hallowed wood and it didn’t take long to break it free. “You see this?” he asked. “This is all that stands in the way between Penelope and us once we unchain her. Do you want to be the next one in her belly?”

We said nothing as he finished the job. He began bending the sticks back to clear an opening then he placed the knife back in his boot. “Alright,” Vic instructed me, “once I’m out, drag the body through and place it as close as you can to Penelope. I’m gonna start pulling up those spikes. I don’t know how deep they go so I might need your help.”

I nodded reluctantly. “Vic, if we make it out of this,” I said, “you and me are through.”

“Just do as I say,” he spat.

Vic crawled through the opening and once on the other side, he stood up and quietly inched toward Penelope. I picked up the prisoner by the armpits and dragged his body towards the opening. I went through and reached back inside to pull him out. The prisoner, drained of all blood, was light. I finished dragging him as close as I felt comfortable and dropped him limply to the ground.

Meanwhile, Dale and Jim clutched the bamboo bars tightly as they watched the two of us on the outside. Vic was struggling with the spikes so I quietly move towards him and grabbed the top of the spike. While he pulled the chain, I lifted with all my strength. Despite the physical exertion, we tried not to grunt out of fear of disturbing Penelope who continued to rest soundly.

Finally the spike budged. Seconds later it was broken free. “One down, two more to go,” Vic whispered.

“We don’t want to loosen all four of the chains?” I asked.

“We might need a second of resistance,” he suggested.

We broke loose the second spike. Penelope was still undisturbed. But the third and final spike took some doing. With our strength nearly depleted, we started to loudly grunt. When it broke loose, the metal clanged against solid rock which echoed into the cavern. Penelope slightly shifted in her slumber which caused us to stop dead in our tracks. She rolled over and then grunted a loud snore.

“Fuck me, that was close,” Vic whispered.

“What do we do now?”

“We go back into the cage and we wait.”

With only Penelope’s hind leg chained, we tip toe back to Dale and Jim. When we reached the cage, Vic signaled for me to go in first. I bent back the bamboo and crawled inside. Then Vic got on his knees and did the same. When he was halfway through, the bamboo caught on the ass of his pants and broke.

It wasn’t a penetrating sound but it was enough to wake up Penelope. We froze as we watched her stand straight up and glare at us with glowing eyes. “Vic! Hurry the fuck up!” I yell.

But Penelope screamed that ungodly sound then effortlessly broke the last spike and charged toward the cage. Vic attempted to wiggle his way through to no avail. She went right past the prisoner’s body and latched onto Vic’s legs. She bit into his midsection and tossed him to the other side of the cave where he laid there with his torso separated from his lower half and bone and organs were exposed to all.

But Vic, still alive, begged her to eat the corpse of the prisoner. She responded with ear piercing screeches. But before she could finish him, our captors entered the cavern with guns ready.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia 31

The torches lit the tavern a burning red; this was literal hell. We were ordered to our feet and then rounded into the bamboo cage with the other prisoner. The captor locked the latch tight behind us and cackled. Then the leader placed his hands on the cage to give us one final warning. “Penelope’s got her belly full, so she’s fat and happy,” he said. “But in a few hours she’ll be up and at it again. So say your prayers and bid each other farewell. Cuz you ain’t got long.”

Penelope was balled up and sound asleep and the captors exited the cavern. Dale nudged the barely cognizant prisoner still shaken by his comrades death. “Hey buddy, are you hangin in there?” he asked.

The prisoner licked his lips and attempted to form words. “Water,” was all he said.

“Nah buddy. We ain’t got none of that.”

Vic was standing at the edge of the cage and looking at Penelope while out of earshot from the others. It wasn’t a mystery as to what he was thinking. “What’s the plan?” I ask.

“In my boot,” he said. “In my boot, I still have the knife. They didn’t think to check there.”

“So we cut ourselves free and then what?”

“All we have is the knife. They got the guns. We’re gonna need an extra set of hands. Specifically Penelope’s.”

“How do you plan to do that?”

“We’re gonna have to cut her free.”

“By pulling those spikes out of the ground?”

“You got it.”

I nodded. That seemed like the only sensible option. “How long do you reckon it’ll take to cut through the bamboo?” I asked.

“Shouldn’t take long.”

“It looks like it’ll take some doin to get those spikes loose. What if she wakes up before then?”

“She’ll need a distraction.”

“Like what?”

Vic rubbed his chin. He looked at the diminished prisoner and I knew right then I wouldn’t like what he had to say. “You’re gonna have to give her something else to eat,” he said.

“Vic, for Christ sake that man has gone through enough.”

He lowered his voice. “Look at the man! He ain’t gonna make it anyway.”

“So what do you expect me to do? Toss him at Penelope?!”

“Not if we put him out of his misery first.”

“You can’t be serious!”

“Look! We don’t have much time and there’s too many unpredictable variables. We can sacrifice him now so there’s no pushback when the time comes. The timing of this has to be perfect. There is no margin of error.”

“No. Absolutely not. I’m drawing the line here.”

Vic grabbed the back of my head and pulled me closer. “Listen mate,” he menacingly whispered, “I’m gonna do it if you like it or not. You can try to stop me but I’ll only end up using your body instead of his. So what’s it gonna be?”

Vic released me and I stepped back. “You’re a goddamn madman, you know that?” I say.

“Aye.”

Vic reached into his boot to pull out the knife. He sat calmly next to the battered prisoner and wrapped his arm around him. “You know, they used to tell us a story in the highlands when I was a boy. It’s about an old man visited by death. Do you know it?” he ask.

The prisoner did not.

“One day an old man overburdened by a bundle of wood on his back let the sticks fall to the ground. He cursed and called out to death to take him right then and there. To his astonishment, the prince of death appeared and asked the old man why he had called. Through fear and trembling, the old man asked the prince to load the sticks onto his back. But nay mate, it was too late. You see, the old man had unwittingly called for his final hour. So how will you respond when your time comes? By calm resolve or through fear and trembling?”

The prisoner shook his head in confusion.

“Aye mate,” Vic continued, “your prince has come.”

Vic plunged the dagger into the prisoner’s side and the prisoner gasped then fell to the ground. There were no cries; no final grasps for the last straws of life. He bled out and withered away.

The others were silent.

“Goddamn you Vic,” I said. “Goddamn you to hell.”

TO BE CONTINUED…