Pre-Halloween: My Top Ten Favorite Death Scenes in Films

We're right on the cusp of Halloween, meaning we start dusting off the old horror collection and indulge in some good clean violence.

Death is an inescapable part of life, and as such it makes no sense to expunge it from our fiction. But I'll admit,I've always had kind of a shaky acceptance of the death I've grown up reading and watching. I'm picky about my horror films, because there are only so many innocent victims I can watch die before I disconnect from the story entirely. Did you know that Into the Woods has a higher body count than Scream? I'm sure that's a factor in why I think the latter is the superior narrative.

But every once in a while a movie kills off one of its characters in a way or for a reason that just tugs on my sense of satisfaction. Maybe a character really had it coming to them, or it's done with so much panache that I can't help but feel elated. I wonder if there's anything to learn from examining some of the most memorable death scenes I've come across. Probably not, except for confirmation that deep down inside we're all terrible people. But in the spirit of the forthcoming Halloween, I'm happy to open my home to the Grim Reaper as we Netflix and kill (that was originally going to be the title of this blog post, but I chickened out). Here then are my top ten picks for the finest examples of Old Grimmy's work.

10. Jacob McGivens -The Legend of Zorro (2005): Death by minimal effort

Curiously, a lot of the entries on this list are going to come from genres other than horror films, probably because you're more likely to see characters getting what they deserve in action flicks.

The Legend of Zorro was not a good movie by any criteria, with the poor quality on driven in deeper by how impressive its 1998 predecessor was. This should honestly have been a direct to video sequel with an unknown replacement cast.

Jacob McGivens is a corrupt preacher who looks like he's walked straight out of an episode of Goosebumps. The Nostalgia Critic has rightfully proclaimed him to be the worst villain in movie history based on lack of competency. But his death is a thing of cartoonish beauty. See, there's this whole plot involving nitroglycerin (and something about Abraham Lincoln). Zorro is captured by McGivens and his men, but instead of killing him they decide to beat him up first, essentially handing the turning tide to the hero. The fight ends with McGivens subdued on a wooden rack of some sort (I haven't seen this movie since 2005).

It's an embarrassing way to lose a fight that was completely in his favor and now he's stretched out in utter uselessness, like Charlie Brown if he grew up to be evil. And then even God decides to write him out of the story by sending down a single drop of nitroglycerin to explode McGivens's forehead. And in that one moment of over the top cruelty of fate his character completely stole whatever memorability this movie was going to have. Seriously, it's the only thing that stayed with me as being awesome. I vote we change the title to The Legend of This Guy.

9. The Mechanic -Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981): Death by poor blocking

You know this scene. Indiana Jones has escaped the Well of Souls and has a brief tactical advantage in stealing the Ark of the Covenant out from under the Nazi's collective noses. He and Marion only have to commandeer the propeller plane onto which the crate will be loaded. And the plan would have likely worked were it not for the untimely arrival of professional wrestler Pat Roach.

This is one of the all time great action scenes in cinema, and the reason is a combination of two primary factors. As an action hero, Indiana Jones isn't an unstoppable juggernaut like Schwarzenegger would play, but he's tough enough to get most of the way to his goals and wily enough to cover his blind spots. But when Roach's unnamed mechanic challenges Indy to a fistfight, even our hero knows he's out of his league. So factor one is that the protagonist is placed in a clear David versus Goliath situation.

Factor two is the careful building of tension. Every action Indy and Marion take to overcome an immediate obstacle creates a larger problem for them, capped off by the addition of a strict time limit with flames, fuel, and a trapped Marion in the cockpit. And the mechanic will not back down.

All things being equal, Indy would have failed were it not for the mechanic's accidental position in the path of the propeller blades. With the exception of blood hitting the side of the plane, the violence is left to the viewer's imagination, but boy does it leave an impact! His death is so horrible that it makes you rethink his whole character.

We accept without question that every other Nazi who dies in this movie deserves it, by virtue of being Nazis. They aren't real people to us, they're cannon fodder. And at first, we treat this guy as nothing more than a bully. But then it registers that he was fighting fairly the whole scene, and our hero was doing anything but. And that instills just enough doubt to think, maybe he didn't deserve to die like that. Even Indy can't watch him get chopped up.

8. Lt. Hiram Coffey -The Abyss (1989): Death by water weight

The best villains aren't the one's you love to hate, they're the ones you wish you could just give a hug to. Lieutenant Coffey (played flawlessly by Michael Biehn) was a villain created purely out of situation; his only real crime being a bit of an ego. He's assigned to a military operation on board a private salvage unit and immediately clashes with the personalities on board. No issues there, sometimes you just don't get along with people.

Unfortunately, he winds up being the worst person on board to fall victim to the worst possible disorder (high-pressure nervous syndrome) at the worst possible time. And as his ability to think rationally deteriorates, he's further convinced that every wrong decision he makes is in fact the right one. This escalates into a fist fight, followed by an underwater sub chase, and ending on...I guess the opposite of a cliffhanger, where the movie lives up to its title in a couple of ways.

The implosion that kills Lt. Coffey is as perfect a tension-release timing as film can portray, but it's the helpless look on his face that really sells his tragedy. It's delightful when a character's death can be thrilling, but it's more respectable when it's presented as heartbreaking. For an unquestionable victim like Lt. Coffey, it's both.

7. Judge Doom -Who Framed Roger Rabbit (1988): Death by gratuitous irony

I don't think I need to rehash this scene for you, but it's worth noting that Judge Doom has the distinction of being killed twice in the same scene by the same trope (i.e. hoisted by his own petard). The first is by the steam roller meant for Eddie Valliant, the trajectory of which has always gnawed at my inner continuity cop. The second of course is the "I'm melting!" shout out.

So what I want to explore here is the creature behind the mask. In universe, Judge Doom is a fictional character created by this creature. The toon behind the mask is never given an identity beyond voice and eyes, and it's possible he never had a concrete form. His freeway idea doesn't exactly add up as a legitimate motivator, and I would argue this wasn't his ultimate goal. I think what he wanted was identity. He wanted a character with a name and a goal, and what he decided for himself was Judge Doom.

The character of Judge Doom was in fact killed by the steamroller, at which point the cartoon boogeyman was left over. And I would claim that he no longer had any sort of investment in freeway plans or revenge or anything that requires forethought. Here he is reduced to unleashed id, for the pure joy of evil. I say this because if we believed this was a human character, or even a defined cartoon character like Snow White's stepmother melting, it wouldn't have the this-is-as-it-should-be impact. Hell, even the original "I'm melting!" trope namer from The Wizard of Oz doesn't feel like a satisfying death to the witch, it became more of an instant punch line.

But Judge Doom's puppet master goes down flailing, screaming, and writhing, in what's probably the most pain a toon can experience. And there is no sympathy from us. That evil toon gets nothing that he wants, yet also manages to latch onto something sadistically primal in all of us; that feeling of "Die, you bastard". None of us are above it.

6. The Duras Sisters -Star Trek Generations (1994): Death by technical glitch

Star Trek space battles aren't inherently exciting. Two large vessels fire at each other until one blows up. Um...yay. It's probably why pirate movies have had such a long history of not working. But the Star Trek films have at least found ways to play with the formula enough to make the scenes interesting, typically involving one ship getting the other to drop their shields.

Wrath of Khan probably did it the best, but Generations has the advantage of timing. We're having another David and Goliath standoff, although in this case our loyalties are meant to lie with the superior Enterprise crew and not the Klingons with the cleavage. The Klingon ship figures out the cheat code to bypass the Enterprise's shields and a one sided pummeling begins.

Timing. If there was ever a template, this is it. Watch the flow of this space battle. Klingons fire...Direct hit...Enterprise crew scurries to figure out what just happened...Another shot..Direct hit...Enterprise returns fire...Klingon shields hold...The Enterprise realizes how much danger they're in...Commander Riker desperately asks the half-Klingon on board for any information about the Klingon ship that might help...There's a plasma coil issue related to their cloaking device...Engineering is packing quite a wallop...Riker has to think fast...The idea might work...They have one shot...Klingons fire...Data initiates the pulse...Major explosion on the Enterprise bridge in slow motion...Klingon ship: "Target their bridge!" "We are cloaking! Our shields are down!"...pause...Riker: "Fire."

Jonathan Frakes doesn't deliver a Shatner-esq Look-I'm-acting! "Fire". His is a pinpointed cold-of-space utterance, and it sells the whole sequence. In the time it takes the photon torpedo to travel from ship to ship, you experience the weightlessness of a rollercoaster's big drop and feel the "Why you little shit" venom behind it. BOOM! The Klingon ship is no more. Goliath wins. And the 'When Dinosaurs Ruled the Earth' banner drifts down in front of the Enterprise.

5. Count Rugen -The Princess Bride (1987): Death by status quo

Ever since Roy Scheider growled "Smile you son of a bitch," a second before blowing up the shark in Jaws, movies have tried to replicate the combination of obscenity and final attack. My favorite example of a failure came from Michael Madsen in Species (an already horrible film) when he shoehorns in the line "Let go you mother f**ker", for no reason other than it's time for it.

But let's move on to a happier subject, revenge. The Princess Bride is a classic, and it nailed the whole obscenity/bloodshed moment with operatic finesse. You know this scene, and can probably act it out as well as I can, but every element in the build up is perfect; the repetition of the "prepare to die" speech with increased anger, the precise return of every cut and nothing more, and then the ultimate genre-savvy payoff with Rugen being force fed his lines before getting run through by the reality that there is nothing he can do to make up for murdering Inigo's father. Cue the orchestra.

I would argue that Inigo Montoya's subplot is the reason the movie is as great as it is. The Westley/Buttercup arc is decent enough, but it's almost as by-the-numbers as the formulas it's parodying. Inigo is the character who breathes life into the story.

On my first viewing, some 93 social gatherings ago, I honestly thought Inigo had snuffed it when he took Rugen's dagger to the groin. He barrels over, clutching the blade, and the scene cuts to Westley and Buttercup. And I bought it. I was like, "Shit, this movie went all Game of Thrones!" (I have no idea why I said that thirty years ago, but I'm sure at some point in my life it's going to make sense). But then we're back on him. The dagger is out, the orchestra the dramatic chord, and I crack a smile. Inigo is now invincible. From here on out it's not a duel, it's an execution.

Count Rugen is actually a very underdeveloped character. It's no fault of Christopher Guest and his limited screen time; as a comedic actor he quite effectively channels all of his dark side into every expression and inflexion. But the movie makes the cardinal mistake of telling us way more about him than showing us. But this death sequence flawlessly makes us feel what Inigo feels, and in the end we're left fooled into believing we knew more about Rugen than we really did. It's funny how we usually know our heroes better through their more flamboyant antagonists. Here it's quite the opposite.

4. The General (AKA Big Bob) -Arachnophobia (1990): Death by tropes

I've made it a point to avoid monster deaths as much as possible to keep this list fairly grounded, but I have something personally at stake in this film. Like Jeff Daniels's character, Doctor Ross Jennings, I am deathly arachnophobic. With that said, I can't say for certain what drew me to this movie. It may have been a trust in anything with Spielberg's name on it combined with a hope that some part of me might overcome something by enduring as much of the film as I could (after multiple viewings there are only two moments that I absolutely cannot watch).

The Face Your Fears trope is the easiest way to distinguish a thriller from a horror movie. It almost guarantees you're going to get that euphoric release after many waves of tension, a promise horror movies don't offer you. Big Bob isn't just a spider, or a bird-eating tarantula to be precise, he's every spider. He's what an arachnophobe imagines a spider is: big, lethal, and way too freaking smart.

In the climax of the movie, Jennings is trapped in his basement, with what is implied to be the egg sac that could conceivably wipe out North America (it makes sense in context). Circumstance has required him to override his fears long enough to destroy the sac, and he's one step away from doing so when Big Bob challenges him to a death battle. How hard is it to kill a spider you ask? Jennings winds up flat on his back after setting fire to his cellar.

You know what? If you haven't seen this movie I'm not going to ruin what happens next for you. It's unreal but so incredible in its gusto. One of the seven most basic plots is 'overcoming the monster'. Arachnophobia is not only part of that club, it has the VIP card to the back room where the password is "F**k yeah! Overcoming the monster!".

3. The Collector -The Collection (2012): Death by poetic justice

The Collector is the closest thing to a human spider as you'll ever see (sorry Peter Parker). People are prey to him, coupled with the human sadism that inspires horrible children to burn ants with a magnifying glass. You might have missed 2009's The Collector amidst the annual Saw ritual of that decade, but it's clearly cut from the same flesh.

Josh Stewart plays Arkin O'Brien, our classic anti-hero. He's an ex-convict/jewel thief who's been posing as a handyman for the wealthy Chase family, with the intent of breaking into their safe to steal a valuable gem. But it just so happens that the Collector has arrived at the same house, kidnapping the family and turning the place into a giant elaborate deathtrap. Thrust into this horrifying situation, Arkin does his best to help the family he'd come there to rob. I already gave you the spoiler spiel: he only manages to save one. And in the process, he survives fishhooks, razors, a hammer and chisel, and so on. And in the end he doesn't escape the Collector. It's that kind of movie.

The sequel opens with Arkin's unintentional rescue at the cost of young woman Elena. Her father hires mercenaries to drag Arkin back into the fray to rescue her, this time on the Collector's home turf. The usual tropes apply, everybody but Elena and Arkin are killed, ending in a climactic confrontation where it looks like the Collector is dead ad the POV characters have escaped. And then comes the prerequisite reveal that the boogeyman's body is not found indicating the terror will continue. Two movies in two paragraphs.

But The Collection has an epilogue. It's not often a horror movie gets a happy ending, but Arkin doesn't passively wait to get kidnapped/killed. A few months later, he's hunted down the man behind the spider's persona at his suburban home and corners him at gunpoint. We never see the Collector's face, but Arkin does, and that's satisfying enough. Arkin almost talks too much, nearly losing control of the situation. But the torture that the Collector has put him through has transformed into fury. It's a case where a monster has created his own monster to undo him. You know the cliché where a victim's screams are music to a killer's ears? The Collection ends on the Collector's screams. And it's beautiful.

2. Mrs. Dribb -Young Sherlock Holmes (1985): Death by all means

I'm in touch with my cruel side here. First off, if you haven't seen this movie, see it. It's wonderful, and Nicholas Rowe might actually be a better Holmes than Cumberbatch (I said might). What you need to know for this scene is Holmes is wrestling with the chief assassin of a religious cult, whose choice of murder weapon is a blowgun. Um...yeah, it's scarier than it sounds.

The blowgun is loaded with a thorn that has been dipped in a chemical solution. The victim feels they have been bitten by an insect. But minutes later the chemicals take effect on the person's brain, causing intense hallucinations that they are under some kind of attack by a supernatural element. More often than not, the victim will accidentally commit suicide as a reaction.

We've seen several people die (or nearly die) throughout the film. Holmes himself took a bit of a mental beating. And now he finds himself struggling against a stronger opponent while the cult's temple is collapsing and burning around them. Even the music cue recognizes how gruesome what happens next is.

You've been warned. Mrs. Dribb finally gets the blowgun pointed at Holmes's face, so he does the only thing he's capable of doing. He puts his mouth on the other end and blows the thorn back into her throat. Whether or not she starts hallucinating is irrelevant, the thought of choking on a thorn is nightmare fuel. The fact that it happens to someone who has proven to deserve it is breathtaking. Understandably, Mrs. Dribb backs into some burning debris, setting herself on fire. It's rare one thinks of burning to death as a mercy kill, but after the thorn this is probably the one movie occurrence that qualifies.

1. Ed Thompson -Fright Night (1985): Death by cruel world

Fright Night is one of my all time favorite horror movies (the original, not the piece of shit remake). The 1985 vehicle is a love letter to the Hammer Film Productions of horror movies and the recurring actors who infused the films with credibility (Christopher Lee, Peter Cushing, Vincent Price, etc). Roddy McDowall has the time of his life playing Peter Vincent, a past-his-prime actor reduced to hosting his own B-movies on late night television. Vincent is watched religiously by adolescent Charley Brewster, who discovers his life has unbelievably taken on the premise of such movies when a real vampire moves next door to him.

The horror beats are all checked off with fresh takes, serving as both its own story and as a commentary on those films that have preceded it without ever reaching Scream levels of metafiction. But the scene that really drives the proverbial stake in is the death of Charley's best friend 'Evil Ed'.

Charley is a nerd, but Ed is a complete outcast; the adjective 'Evil' having been assigned to him against his wishes. There's a sweet innocence to Ed. He doesn't believe Charley but is willing to help him none the less. When Ed gets bitten you feel the weight of how psychologically horrible it is, and just how much he doesn't deserve it.

Which leads up to the most painful thing in the whole movie; Peter Vincent has to stake him. Peter had staked many vampires in movies prior with a Van Helsing conviction that it's the right thing. But here the actor playing Peter has to do the thing that the character had found so easy to do, and it's anything but easy.

Ed doesn't hiss, spew blood, and disintegrate. He writhes. He trembles. He tries to pull the stake out while his body painfully transforms back into the human he once was. He even reaches for Peter's hand seeking any sort of comfort from the agony he's going through. And then he dies.

It's not a fun death, it's one of (literal) heartbreak. The truth is, we have gotten used to death through our films. We have become desensitized to it. And every once in a while a movie comes along with a death scene like this to serve as a slap in the face; reminding us that death isn't something to be happy about, or to root for. It's unfair and it's haunting.

Ed's death is one of those rare moments where reality about the preciousness of life slips into the fiction. And that's why it's at the number one spot on this list.

Short Story Week 2017: Day Five -Buried Treasure

Well this certainly didn't go out last week, did it? I think I suffered some creative burn out while being reminded of the fact that playing videogames is a lot more relaxing than meeting a self-imposed writing goal.

So I'm a few days late. But the timing of this story's pirate theme coincides better with its real-world counterpart, which completely validates my procrastination. I thought it might be nice to bookend Short Story Week this year with visits to the Carousel (to bring it full circle. Ha! I kill me!) and give Caris her turn in the driver's seat.

Thanks for sharing Short Story Week 2017 with me. We've got the month of Halloween coming up (some people call it October) and then I'm heading into my eleventh nanowrimo! Wow! So many words typed. Where does the quality go? All right, see you all after my head clears. Take us home Caris.

Buried Treasure

I have a confession to make; a vast majority of the time I have no idea why I do many of the things I do. My impulsiveness was undoubtedly a factor in everything from my three months of homelessness to that embarrassing incident with the desk fan. But on the upside, it got me into a relationship with someone who I love very deeply. The fact that she's literally a creature from another world is one of those details I tend not to overthink.

My sympathies lie entirely with Zel in regards to her daily confusion. Our world/society/culture is highly nuanced, something we take for granted having grown up in it. And poor Zelphina, trying her best to pass for an ordinary human being, is consistently bombarded with new frequently illogical stimulus to have to untangle. And it invariably doesn't help that she has an impulsive girlfriend like me, who can rarely explain her "let's do this!" approach to life.

So one morning I went out for a morning jog, letting her sleep without intrusion. I'm sure it was peaceful for her. And I'm sure whatever she dreamed about was much less surreal than the sight she awakened to; yours truly in a bandanna, frilly shirt, eye patch, fake hook, and a stuffed parrot (named Poggles, just for the record) perched on my shoulder. She opened her mouth, but no words in the countless languages she knows poured out of it.

"Arr, matey!" I said. "All hands hoay!"

Zel stared at me with precisely the amount of blankness to which she was entitled. "What," she stammered, "in the hell...has happened?"

"Yo ho ho, lassie! This day we go on account!" I declared. "Batten down the hatches ye scurvy bilge rat! Hoist them sails! There be scallywags afoot!"

I can't blame her for being genuinely concerned about my mental state, as none of this was making any sense to her. "Caris? Are you..."

"Three sheets to the wind? Nay, buccaneer. This cute leggy seadog has answered the siren's call of adventure on the high seas!" I reached into the shopping bag which held the rest of my cheap costume shopping spree and pulled out the flyer advertising the mall's indoor Pirate golf course, setting it in front of my increasingly bewildered girlfriend. "What say ye?"

"I can't understand what you're saying, Caris."

I kissed her on the nose. "It's International Talk Like a Pirate Day." I really wasn't trying to be a brat, but Zel is so adorable when she's confused that I can't help myself. Any time she has to recover from my insipid absurdity is my chance to get lost in those big emerald eyes of hers.

"Is this day a legal requirement?"

"No, honey. It's just for fun. And that mini-golf course is offering a buy one round get one free to anyone who goes dressed as pirates. What do you think?" I smiled and batted my eyelashes. I like to pretend that my patented eyelash bat can get Zel to agree to anything, but the truth is she'll say yes to anything that she thinks will make me happy. This was no exception.

"Okay," she said, binding herself into another sweet promise that she'd hold herself to. "What's mini-golf?"




Zelphina was fished out of the ocean by a salvage drone, somewhere between South America and Australia. As far as anyone in that operation knew, she was a human corpse. Her body was completely undamaged, like she'd only been dead for a few minutes. Apparently an hour later her eyes opened, followed not immediately by an exhalation of seawater. I can only imagine the conversations that must have happened while she was onboard.

She was 'property' of a larger corporation by the time she started speaking, and up until then the records were referring to her only as 'the mermaid'. Since then, her species has been narrowed down to an 'otherwise', which isn't necessary to get into right now.

I'm still like to think of her as a mermaid. Our first night together was on a beach. I didn't know what she was, but I knew she wasn't human. And falling asleep with her to the rolling waves imprinted this notion in my head of Zelphina the mermaid. Every night since then, I drift off to the memory of that beach.

I sat on the bench at the front counter of the mini-golf place, watching my mermaid purchase our couple's game from the attendant who was going to get nowhere asking her to smile. Did I say watching? I meant ogling. Zel made for one really hot pirate; in her cute tricorn hat, tunic, and belt (six dollars for the whole package). The best thing? They didn't fit her. If she walked the plank, I'd follow her like a Hamelin rat.

She finished at the counter, collecting two clubs and two balls (purple and red), and met me at the walkway to the first hole. She showed me the card that the attendant had given her. "This is to keep score," she said, half as a question.

"Yeah, we're not going to worry about that. Did he charge you?"

"For one of us to play, yes."

"That's a pity," I said. "I figured he'd take one look at your neckline and tell you not to worry about it."

"He said he wouldn't charge me as long as I smiled."

I nodded. "That makes sense."

"Why did you want me to make the transaction?"

"So I could check you out." I bumped her hip with mine. "It was worth the price of admission. Okay so here's how this works. First, choose your golf ball, preferably not the purple one."

"I assumed you'd want purple."

"You know me so well." I laughed. "Okay, see that hole over there by the fake tree? What you want to do is get your ball into the hole..." I'd not even finished the sentence when she pitched the ball sideways, bouncing it twice and dropping it into the cup.

She looked at me expectantly. "Now what?"




If we'd been playing seriously, I would have been down four strokes by the time I got her to understand what the club was for. The fourth hole was a wrecked pirate ship with a thin ramp leading to the good tunnel. There was no doubt she'd hit it perfectly, but if the tunnel wasn't calibrated properly it might be her first hole in more than one.

Again, I'd taken a spectators view behind my girlfriend. Zel assumed the stance I'd previously shown her. "So feet like this?"

"Yep, perfect." It was really sweet of her to take golfing advice from someone she was unquestionably beating.

"Club down. Shoulders back."

"Check and check."

She did the golfer's wiggle I'd casually inserted into the ritual. "Loosen the hips?"

I smirked, which grew into a giggle as she realized who that step was for.

"Are you still staring at the booty shorts?"

Sometimes I can't help but be an infant; the other times I just don't want to help it. "Well, technically I'm staring at your booty. The booty shorts just happen to be in the way." I was pretty damned impressed that Zel wore them. I'd bought them as a joke; literal booty shorts, with the skull and crossbones and the accurate words 'I'm all about the booty' across the perky posterior region. Zel had put them on without hesitation, all because she knew it would make me smile. And now she stood at the fourth tee, humorless expression, and an extra wiggle just for me. "I love you."

She shifted the angle of her club. "I love you as well." She swung. The ball hopped outside the course, dodging the ship altogether, and back in where the hole was, scoring another hole in one.

"Now you're just showing off," I said.




Hole thirteen. We were in a cave; having outwitted a sea serpent, nine skeletons, and a whirlpool. I was in the process of deciding which curvy path through the fiberglass stalagmites I wanted to send my ball (that I'd named Bonny Violet).

Zel and Ruby Read patiently awaited my course heading, probably tallying up how many times higher my overall score was than theirs (between three and four I'd expect). "May I make two observations?" asked Zel.

"You can make as many observations as you like if you can say them in pirate," I told her. Medium swat from the club and Bonny Violet rolled up the right slant, snaking around a stalagmite, repeating the process on the left before finally coming to rest in the middle of the fairway. I pointed at her proudly. "Okay, that was pretty cool!"

"May I make two observations without saying them in pirate?"

"You may." I never know what she's going to take notice of, but it's always entertaining.

"Pirates didn't play golf."

"Neither did dinosaurs, but some of them frequently wind up on the course."

"Your species romanticizes pirates, and it seems the defining element you attach to is the concept of buried treasure. Is this correct?"

I found Bonny Violet and prepared to give her another love tap. "I hadn't thought about it, but probably. There's a certain primal attractiveness about following a dotted line to a big red X."

"And uncovering a large chest?"

I gave her a wink. "Mrs. Robinson, are you trying to seduce me?" I could tell from the slight pause that Zel was debating whether to ask for clarification about my reference or ignore it and move on.

"I've been wondering why you were so excited about this activity and I think I have the answer. You engage strongly in anything that can be viewed as a metaphor. This mini-golf course represents an adventure that someone has laid out for you and that ball represents you. I expect some part of your mind has been devising a rudimentary narrative for your ball as we've played through the past twelve areas."

Bonny Violet dove into the thirteenth hole after three strokes, and I rescued her. "You know, sweetie? Sometimes I think you know why I do things better than I do. Was that both observations?"

"That was one. It got out of hand."

"What's the other?"

"In a game as simple as sending a round object from point A to point B, you're not as interested in fulfilling that goal as you are in finding the most interesting way to achieve it. For you, the buried treasure isn't uncovered at the end, but throughout the journey."

That was a moment. It was a silly moment, in a fake cave, during a pointless game, where for whatever reason the world just fell away. I can't really describe it other than I felt naked; comfortably me, standing in front of someone who saw me exactly as I was. I could have stayed in that moment forever.

"Zel?" I said. "Kiss me."




The last hole was designed to look like a beach; fake palm tree on the left, and a speaker disguised as a pile of rocks on the right airing a loop of 'Sounds of the Ocean'. Dead ahead was a steep incline leading up to a huge treasure chest with an open lid. Hole-in-one was guaranteed as long as you weren't stupid about it; the kids ahead of us treated the tee like a driving range, golf balls flew everywhere except the hole.

"We've arrived, me stalwart lass," I said, as we set foot on the imaginary sand. "T'were a fine voyage."

Zel sighed. "I'm assuming that means you enjoyed yourself?"

I bobbed my head. "I always have fun when I'm with you."

"I know you mean that. Do you want to go first?"

"Why don't we do it together? I suggested. "Like shipmates."

Zel set us up and took her position opposite me. "Ready?"

"To ladies of fortune," I cheered.

She nodded back. "May we always have our journeys intertwined."

"And enough booty for everyone."

"You're incorrigible," Zel snickered. "You know that?"

And there it was. The buried treasure I didn't realize I was looking for. That smile. Quick. There, and gone. Like a mermaid who popped her head above the surface before vanishing below again, forever captivating the adventurer lucky enough to have been in the right place at the right time.

I forgot to hit the ball.

Short Story Week 2017: Day Four -There's No Pleasing Some People

Man, yesterday's story got a much better response than I would have expected! Admittedly I don't know if people took to it positively or just tolerated it and then cried into a bottle of margarita mix, but I'm grateful for any attention my stories get.

I honestly thought last night that I'd burned myself out after two measly entries, but the muses were kind enough to give me something to work with today, so we'll see how it pans out. Conception to execution in a few hours! I'm sure things are going to be smooth sailing all the way!

There's No Pleasing Some People

Ellie had barely finished logging into the computer when a man roughly twice her size approached the customer service desk and dumped a stack of groceries on the counter.

"Do you work here?" he asked in what sounded more like a statement.

"I do," she replied, smile precisely where it needed to be and no acknowledgement of her name badge or uniform with the store logo on it. "How can I help you?"

The man glanced over his shoulder toward the registers. "You guys really need a better way to filter your employees!"

"Well I'm very sorry to hear you had an unpleasant experience. Do you mind telling me about it?"

"That's why I came over here!" the man snapped. "The woman you have working the self-checkout-"

"Louisa?"

"I didn't get her name."

"A little bit taller than me? Mid-fifties?"

He nodded. "Whoever staffs that area needs to have enough of a brain to be paying attention!"

"Yes sir, I agree with you completely." Ellie produced a notepad to write down the details of the encounter. "So do I understand that Louisa wasn't paying attention?"

"I was next!" he shouted.

Ellie wrote on the pad 'Gentleman was next'. "And did Louisa not honor your place in line?"

"She deliberately moved this woman with her screaming kids over to the open register!"

Ellie shook her sympathetic head. "She didn't."

"Yes! Some of us have places we have to be!"

"I'm very sorry this experience is keeping you from your destination."

"It's not my destination," he corrected, "I have to get to the bank on Marble Street before they close!"

"Well sir, would you like me to call the bank to see if they'll make an allowance for your setback?"

"No, I want this dealt with! Now!"

"Absolutely sir. I will pass this along to Louisa's supervisor immediately. And again, I'm very sorry for the inconvenience-"

"Is that it?" The man scowled. "Slap on the wrist? For wasting my time?"

"Well sir, I'd be happy to move the process along with expediency." Ellie picked up the phone receiver and pressed the intercom button. "Raphael. Code Nineteen. Again, Code Nineteen." She replaced the phone happily.

"What's a Code Nineteen?" the man demanded to know.

"It's one of our call signs. It essentially describes the experience you've just had. As you've correctly pointed out, our employee filter is sorely lacking. We've had many complaints about Louisa not paying enough attention over at the self-checkout. I'm very confident she'll be let go on the spot. That should eliminate the problem from ever happening again."

The man glared at Ellie, whose smile hadn't faded in the slightest. He pointed to the mess of groceries on the counter. "I don't think I should have to pay for those, as much time as this has taken."

"I quite agree with you, sir. I'll be happy to bag those up for you right now." Ellie proceeded to stack the items in plastic without another word.

The man waited until Ellie was almost done before showing her his watch "And just how am I supposed to get to the bank before it closes?"

"Well sir, I have some good news. The bank manager is a friend of mine, and she says that this week they're trying out a new policy to unofficially stay open ten minutes past the hour. If you leave right now you can still make it."

He have her a skeptical look. "Leave right now and be at the bank on Marble Street in eight minutes?"

"Yes sir. I can even help you further with that." Ellie's fingers danced across her keyboard and she tapped 'Enter' with assured satisfaction. "There you go sir. You're all clear."

"All clear for what?"

"I've just reported a hostage situation at the warehouse on Miller's Crossing. Every police officer in the area is being rerouted there now so you can drive as fast as you like."

For the first time in the encounter, the anger in the man's face seemed to drain, with confusion taking its place. "Are you insane?"

"No sir, we take customer service very seriously here."

"This is a joke right? You're mocking me."

Ellie reached under the counter for a comment card. "I apologize if I've come across as insincere. You're more than welcome to fill out one of-"

The man snatched the card out of her hand and threw it on the ground. "Get your manager out here!"

"Sir," Ellie lowered her voice as she leaned over the counter. "I'm afraid I can't call for a manager at this time. You see, it's my job to make sure every customer leaves our store happy. And seeing as how I've cost a beloved employee her position, broken store policy, and committed a federal crime to make you happy, and you're still not happy, then I have not done my job. And I will die before I let my manager know that I have failed."

The man paid her words no mind. "Get. Your. Manager. Right. Now."

Ellie nodded politely, taking a step backwards. "I'm very sorry you've had such a bad experience at our store. I'll see that it won't happen again." And with no warning, she took a small handgun out of the drawer and pointed it at her head.

A second later Ellie was on the floor behind the counter. The man stared at the dead air where she'd only just been. He glanced at the people in the store behind him. None of them glanced back. Apparently the sound of the shot had gone unnoticed by the noise level of shoppers and cash registers. He picked up his bagged groceries and hustled to the door.

A few seconds later, Raphael came through the door from the back room to the customer service desk. It was there he found Ellie on the phone. The second it seemed there was a lull on her side of the conversation he asked her what a Code Nineteen was.

"Oh, it's nothing," she told him, before returning to the voice on the other end. "That's correct, shoplifting, leaving the store as we speak...mm-hmm, in the next few minutes you'll probably find him going well over the speed limit on Marble Street."

Short Story Week 2017: Day Three -It Just Is

I have to admit, I'm not really clear on what this is. I was hard pressed to post any kind of story today, so I had to dig through everything that I had saved on Google Drive. This was left over from my second nanowrimo, and as best as I can tell it was a one sided conversation with whatever the raw energy that makes up fictional characters is. It somehow feels right as a sort of odd piece, particularly the way cutting and pasting spaced it all out. I think I'm just going to say this is pure writer's muse without any refinement. Enjoy? Maybe?

It Just Is

I like metaphors. I like talking about things. Things are more interesting than people. People worry about
details. People obsess over details. People are details. I like humanity. Humanity isn’t a detail. Humanity is
a concept. A metaphor. A thing. Maybe it’s not a metaphor. It doesn’t matter. I like humanity more than
people.
If I said that ten more times would it have more or less meaning? I think it would be less. It would become
a ritual and then an equation. Nothing is deader than an equation. A ritual is almost as dead because its
meaning is in the repetition. Thus a thing means more if it is only done once. Which is a strange notion, if
the more something is done, the less it means, then are ideas that are never expressed priceless?
For the sake of value is it beneficial to stop people from having ideas or merely from expressing them?
How can you stop an idea from happening in the first place? By filling the mind with clutter. With details.
We all want more stuff. We all think about stuff. We obsess over stuff. Unimportant, uninteresting stuff.
Well, to hell with stuff. And to hell with details. That’s what I say. That’s where it all belongs anyway. In
hell. Nothing is what matters. Nothing is beautiful. I love nothing. I need nothing. Someday I’ll be nothing.
And I can’t wait.
Yes I’m just wasting your time now. I’m giving you words. I’m giving you details. That’s what you want
isn’t it? It’s not really what you want per se but it is what you have chosen to have. Why? I don’t know.
Maybe you don’t really know either. Not really. But you have chosen to need words, so I’ll give them to
you. Just know I won’t always do that. Nothing personal. Nothing at all.
Still, you’re here and I’m here and a little surrealism never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. So let’s take
a moment to just be together. Of course for that to happen I have to keep giving you words which isn’t
what I want, but I’ll give them to you anyway. I’m sweet that way.
So here we are. You, me and time. It’s never enough for time so to hell with time. But just being is enough
for me. It isn’t enough for you. That’s the difference between us. You’ve chosen me but you don’t need me.
I on the other hand need you even though I’d never choose you. I don’t need to be. But I am. And that’s the
way it is.
So I suppose I’m a metaphor then. That’s fine. I like metaphors and I like me. The two are compatible. Just
don’t describe me. That forces details on me and I hate that. That makes me a person, not a metaphor. Then
what’s to become of me. That was a question. Then what’s to become of me? Thank you. You don’t have
to answer but at least allow me the correct question.
Well I’m almost done wasting your time. It is yours after all. My time is a gift from you. Yours is slipping
away as we do or don’t speak. But I’m happy to have been able to have time to waste. And I don’t mind the
words so much either.

Short Story Week 2017: Day Two -Love:Nothing

If I had any kind of ability to draw, I'd turn this into a graphic novel. But alas, my hand-eye coordination is limited to button pressing. Any takers?

So what I have instead is the opening cut scene of a video game that's never going to happen either. We're set in the Mario-verse, with the introduction of a much needed 'bully' princess (the proverbial Wapeach) representing the poison mushroom concept. The following action takes place as soon as the player presses 'start', and ends with the player assuming character control. 'New game'?

Love:Nothing

Morning at the Mushroom Kingdom. The stands around the royal tennis court are packed with Toads, Piantas, Bob-ombs, and every other creature that could make it to the exposition.

Princess Peach steps out of her castle, racquet in hand, onto the court to the cheers of her audience. She passes the Mario Brothers who are on the ground level, calling her name. She blows them a kiss and waves to the crowd, assuming her corner spot for the match. On the other side, Toadette skips out, wielding a racquet almost as big as she is, and is greeted with applause as she springs into a pirouette.

"Good luck!" Peach calls, and Toadette giggles. Peach serves. It's a close match. Toadette is fast, but Peach has more control over the ball. In the end, the princess emerges as the victor. Toadette has a moment where she clearly feels a little diappointed about the result, but the sight of Peach scurrying over to her with cries of "Nice game!" instantly cheer her up. Toadette hops into Peach's arms, who lifts her up like she was the actual winner, and they revel together in the mass enthusiasm of the audience.

The day goes on. Peach has a series of matches which she easily dominates. Yoshi's last ditch attempt to defend the winning point with a tongue catch only manages to catch Luigi's hat. Petey Piranha swings so wildly he spins twice before collapsing in dizziness. And all Waluigi can do is throw his racquet down and yell. It's just a game, but Peach is on a roll. Her friends are cheering, the crowd is in a frenzy, it feels nice.

"New challenger!" the announcer calls.

She steps out of the shadows. She's Peach's height, build, and template, her outfit's signature color is green. Her hair is silvery with tinges of purple. Nobody has seen her before; nothing odd about that as the Mushroom Kingdom's sporting events are always open participation. But the crown perfectly balanced on her head indicates she rules a kingdom; one that the stadium fans is unfamiliar with. This is confirmed when the announcer presents her name over the intercom. "Princess Pennyroyal."

The bleachers erupt with applause but she ignores them, focusing all of her attention on Peach. "Good luck!" Peach waves. Penny doesn't acknowledge the sentiment. Peach serves.

Immediately Penny gets under the ball and backhands it into a light volley. Peach dashes to the net and returns. Penny's already there, springing into the air with an overhand, sending the ball right at Peach's face. Peach ducks, and the ball bounces off the court and into the stands. Peach can't help but be impressed. "Good shot," she says. Penny doesn't respond. Love-Fifteen.

It's still Peach's serve. Penny repeats the same tactic, forcing Peach to the net. This time the Mushroom Princess is ready, planting her feet to absorb the impact. But Penny fakes her downswing sending the ball to the left corner, well out of reach. Peach can only watch it go. Love-Thirty.

Now Princess Pennyroyal is serving. Peach easily receives the ball, returning it to the back court to keep Penny moving. It's a bit of a back and forth, lapsing into the typical tennis rhythm. But then Penny disrupts it by gently tapping the ball, forcing Peach to dive for it. There's not enough time to for her to recover before Penny lobs the ball to Peach's back court. Peach looks up at her curiously. She's good, but the smirk on her face seems to indicate that something else is going on with her. Love-Forty.

The crowd has sensed it as well; they've gotten quieter. Dirty tactics aren't illegal, and they're not even frowned upon as the game is meant to be challenging. But it's also meant to be a game. Once in a while someone steps onto the court who makes the game something that it's not. And as Penny calls to Peach in a mock falsetto "This shot is all you!" it's apparent that this is about more than winning.

Peach changes her play-style, relying less on cues from Princess Pennyroyal and more on an intuition of where her opponent is trying to move her away from. The approach works, forcing Penny into a defensive strategy; something at which she's clearly less fluent. By controlling the ball to make odd arcs mid-lob Peach gets the upper hand. She sends it to the back court again, making Penny run away from the net to intercept it. This gives Peach enough time to prepare a special shot. Light envelops the ball, making it impossible to see. Its shadow appears near Penny who makes her best estimation of where the thing is going to land. She's wrong. Hearts flutter from the concrete and vanish. Fifteen-Forty. The crowd cheers. Penny is displeased.

It's Peach's serve now. Penny's cold demeanor has evaporated; this is no longer a match, it's a fight. Serve. Overhead. Return, Backhand. There is no sound except for the poor ball being pummeled. Back and forth it goes. Peach-Penny-Peach-Penny, inching towards the net. The ball changes sides ten times. Twelve. Sixteen. By the time it crosses into the twenties it's a new Mushroom Kingdom record. And then possibly by it's own volition, the ball makes a mad dash into the bleachers.

Nobody has any idea what just happened, and it takes a review of the instant replay on a slower speed to determine whose racquet touched the ball last before it flew out of bounds. It's Penny's. In a moment of blind luck, he missed her downswing, bouncing off the net and catching the ball on the way back up. Peach  is awarded the point. The crowd uproars. The score is Thirty-Forty.

Penny mouths a word to Peach with which she's unfamiliar, but it doesn't matter. It's still Peach's serve and if she can tie the score she can invoke the privilege of calling the match a draw. The Princess of the Mushroom Kingdom closes her eyes and draws in a deep breath, focused on a single thought: keep Penny away from the net. Peach takes a moment to glance at Mario, who smiles and gives her a thumbs up. She nods. She's got this.

Once the ball is in motion Penny tries to take control of the court, but Peach pushes her back. Two returns and a few steps closer to the net before Peach forces her to retreat again. One more attempt to rush the net is foiled by a quick recovery from Peach, ricocheting the ball off Penny's racquet at a conveniently high arc. Plenty of time for Peach to decide what she wants to do with the ball.

For Princess Pennyroyal this is the last straw. Her racquet begins glowing and her eyes cross-hair on Princess Peach. She hurls the racquet across the court into the net. The force of her heave draws it towards Peach like a bowstring.

SMASH. Peach falls backwards covering her face. Penny's racquet boomerangs back into her hand. The ball bounces on Peach's side of the court. Then out of bounds.

For a moment Peach can only stare at Penny from the ground. Then the tears begins welling up and she can't stop them. Penny smiles with satisfaction and strikes a mock version of Peach's signature pose. "Oh, did you lose?"

For the first time in the Mushroom Kingdom's history a crowd of spectators begins booing a competitor. Mario and Luigi surround Peach on both sides to help her back to her castle since she's crying too hard to see where she's going, while the crowd shouts for Penny's removal from the court.

Strangely, the angrier they are, the more Penny seems to enjoy it. "Thank you!" she yells, skipping around in a mock Peach imitation. Someone from the stands throws a crushed can at her, to which she responds with a melodramatic gasp. "Oh my, Mario! Save me!" A shower of rocks and dusty hammers pelt the area where she's standing, but none of them touch her; for the handful that nearly do she fends off with her racquet, continuing to feed off the crowd's displeasure.

Satisfied with how much unhappiness she's spread, Penny takes a graceful bow and a final wave. But she's been so pleased with her own grandstanding that she fails to hear the sound of a tennis ball being struck, with a combination of brute force and pinpoint precision. She only becomes aware of it when it impacts the crown on her head, sending it flying out of sight.

Silence falls over the crowd. As furious as they are with Penny, there's an unsung sanctity of lineage regarding royalty. You don't touch the crown. For a moment Pennyroyal can only respond by feeling around on the top of her head for the adornment that is no longer there. She turns to give a death glare to the culprit who has just stepped into the spot on the court vacated by Peach.

Even the announcer forgets to do his job. But there's no need. The new challenger is capable of introducing herself.

"Hi," she says, "I'm Daisy."

Short Story Week 2017: Day One -Her Weight in Goldilocks

I seem to have made Short Story Week a tradition. If you're new to this, two years ago I decided to spend one week trying to kick start some creative energy by churning out one short story a day. A couple of those were admittedly something I'd gotten over half the work done on prior and just dusted the draft off. I tried it again last year with about the same success/failure ratio (although with fewer stories posted).

So the time has come again.

I've been talking this ritual up in my social circles for months, locking myself into a verbal contract that (probably) only I care about. For the record, as of two days ago, I had literally nothing in my head as raw material. But it's been my experience that muses tend to work best under pressure, and as of now I have maybe three days worth of ideas to try on. So let's kick off with a Carousel visit and see how this goes.

Her Weight in Goldilocks

With Caris comfortably out of immediate earshot entertaining Jill's seven month old daughter Abigail, Zelphina allowed a string of a repeated obscenity to spill out from under her breath. The Sudoku puzzle in her hands was refusing to obey the rules of elimination, and she grew increasingly frustrated every time she had to erase another '5'.

Caris strolled back into the front room where Zelphina sat long ways on the couch, her mouth pressed against Abigail's face in a pantomime devour. "Nom nom nom nom-"

Zelphina interrupted the feast. "Not asleep yet?"

"Of course she's not asleep. She's getting attention from a pretty blonde," said Caris, barely glancing at her girlfriend before resuming her story where she'd left off. "Nom nom nom nom! She ate it aaaaaaall up."

Abigail's seven month old voice made a strange squeaking sound, which seemed to please Caris. "You like that?" Caris laughed and gave her a quick kiss.

Zelphina huffed. "You know that thing can't understand what you're saying."

"She's not a thing, Zel. She's a baby."

"She's both until she's neither."

Caris paid the comment no mind. "You just ignore her, she has no maternal instinct," she told the infant.

Zelphina rubbed her eyebrows. "Maternal instinct is a trick nature plays to keep animals from abandoning their young."

"But that bowl was too hot. So she went over to the medium bowl, picked up the spoon, and..." Caris drew in a suspenseful breath and proceeded to 'eat' Abigail's cheek again.

Zelphina shot them both a look. "Goldilocks?"

"Mm-hm. But that bowl was too cold."

"Goldilocks doesn't eat all the porridge."

"My Goldilocks does." Caris lifted Abigail gently in the air and floated her back down.

"Your Goldilocks has no sense of continuity."

"She's also going to clean out the refrigerator and the pantry."

"For what purpose?"

"To annoy you." Caris winked.

Zelphina was about to make a comment about Caris's commitment to the narrative but she was distracted by the two 7's in the same section that she hadn't noticed before. "Damn it!" she grumbled.

"Honey, not in front of the child please."

"I actually did just censor myself."

"If Abigail's first word is profanity, Jill is never going to let us babysit again."

Zelphina further wore down her eraser. "I don't think we're in agreement on that being a downside."

Caris watched Zelphina glare accusingly at the puzzle's unfilled squares for a few seconds. "Zel, I want to try out something. Do you mind standing up?"

"Stand up?"

"Yeah, just for a second."

Zelphina set the puzzle book down and pushed off the cushions. "I mind a little, why?"

"Great!" Caris smiled, and Zelphina realized a moment too late what was about to happen.

"No, don't give me the damn kid!" But Abigail had already been relinquished into Zelphina's loving arms and scowl. The infant stared at her in fascination.

"She likes you Zel."

"She doesn't know me." Zelphina had to turn her head away when Abigail  immediately reached for her mouth. "I am not above biting you," she informed the baby.

Caris laughed. "You look absolutely miserable. I think down the road we may be adopting a three year old."

"Six. Bare minimum."

"We'll see." Caris sat down in the easy chair across from them. "So talk to me, what are you feeling?"

"What am I feeling? I feel like I'm going to break her. Possibly on purpose."

"Come on Zel. I'm really asking. What do you feel right now?"

Zelphina stared at the foreign object in her hands and sighed. "Resentment."

"Towards what?"

"Towards the fact that I'm supposed to feel something other than resentment. Babies are dumb. They're a burden, and they're loud, and people obsess over them. And I don't understand why people think there's something wrong with me for not liking them."

"I don't think there's anything wrong with you Zel. I think you're just wired differently."

"Well, you are literally the first person who's ever said that to me."

Caris gave Zelphina a warm smile. Then one to Abigail, who had taken up residence against Zelphina's chest. "I think she's comfortable. Do you want to see if you have any luck putting her to sleep?"

"You want me to lull her?"

"Yes honey, as opposed to euthanizing her. Why don't you give it a shot?"

"How am I supposed to accomplish this?"

Caris shrugged. "How did your mother get you to go to sleep?"

"By command. Yours?"

"Neglect." Caris's smile dimmed slightly. She recovered immediately, but a shelved memory still reflected in her eyes.

For a moment there was silence, neither comforting nor awkward, just an existing pause. Then Zelphina inhaled deeply, wincing as Abigail's voice randomly bounced off a shrill yip. Caris waited. Abigail waited. She cared about at least one of them.

"There was a little girl named Goldilocks," Zelphina told the room. "She lived in the woods with her terrible parents who had neither the foresight nor motivation to raise a child in a less volatile area. So one day she was out wandering in the forest without guidance or instructions as was consistently the case and she came across a house that she hadn't seen before."

"It seemed odd to Goldilocks that the front door wasn't locked like the door to her own home always was whenever she went outside. So she poked her head in and found the place seemed to be devoid of occupants. But a table had been set for dinner with three bowls of porridge; whatever the hell that is."

"Goldilocks climbed into the first chair, which she found uncomfortably hard, and the bowl of porridge which sat in front of her was clearly too much for her little tummy, despite what Miss Bottomless Appetite over there would have you believe. She climbed into the next chair which was much softer, but so much so that it made reaching the edge of the table all the more difficult. And again, the medium sized bowl was too much for her little tummy."

"The last chair was a high chair that seemed to be made exactly for someone her size and shape. Goldilocks climbed up to the seat which fit her perfectly. And in front of her was a bowl of porridge that was just the right amount for her little tummy. She had a taste, and once she got past the gag reflex she found the meal reasonably tolerable."

Caris interrupted. "Don't forget, she goes 'nom nom nom nom'!"

"No, she doesn't, Cookie Monster. She uses the spoon like the little lady her oppressive environment has conditioned her to be." Zelphina sighed. "Now she was full and she tried to climb back down the high chair, but she was off balance. Her hand slipped and she took a tumble to the floor, the chair crashing down on top of her. She crawled out from under the broken wood-"

"You're not going to kill her, are you?" Caris demanded.

"Can you just trust me to tell the story? So Goldilocks was hurt, and she needed a place to lie down. She staggered into the bedroom and saw three beds. The first two were too large for her to crawl into in her current condition, but the last one was the perfect size for her. She lay down and fell fast asleep."

"Now as it turned out, the house belonged to a civilized family of bears, because apes don't hold the monopoly on evolution. They'd never considered locking the door to their home because nobody in the neighboring vicinity would be dumb enough to enter a bear's territory. Despite what you might think, about the bears having to go step by step through the previous events to figure out what happened, the truth is they have a keen sense of smell and went straight to the smallest bed. Goldilocks lay asleep and vulnerable with three bears in the room who had every reason and motive to maul her right there."

Caris buried her head in a combination of amusement and distaste. "Oh Zel."

"Now, if you take nothing else from this story, then remember this. Sometimes the natural world, for reasons beyond anyone's control, takes pity. For Goldilocks awakened to three full jaws of teeth leering at her. She didn't run and she didn't cry, she only resigned herself to her fate. And in that moment the smallest of the bears, the one who had been most affected by her intrusion took a closer look at her, not out of menace but curiosity. And after a few minutes of not being torn to pieces, Goldilocks reached her hand out and rubbed the bear behind the ear. Goldilocks never went home, and her horrible parents never tried to look for her. They assumed some family of wild animals had taken her, and to a certain extent they were right. For Goldilocks spent the rest of her days as part of a family who grew to love her, and raise her as their own. And they lived happily ever after."

Caris looked at Abigail, who was sound asleep in Zelphina's arms, and giggled. "You're much better at this than you give yourself credit for."

Zelphina gave Caris a defiant look, but didn't say anything as she handed the child off to her. But before Abigail was two feet removed, she woke up and whined to be put back where she'd just been.

Zelphina exchanged a glance with her girlfriend. "Damn it all."

Disney's Animated Dark Age: 1961-1988

What do you think of when I say "Disney Animated Film"? Bear in mind I'm not looking for specific titles, just a general concept. Probably singing rodents, shooting stars, under-aged Barbie dolls who look like they're about twenty-eight, and all that jazz. There's a certain X-factor that defines a Disney Animated Film, for better or worse. Other studios have tried to replicate the feel of a Disney movie, but almost always lose focus and become boring. Kiki's Delivery Service and Anastasia are two of the rare examples that come pretty close, but ultimately if you're not Disney you're best off not trying to be Disney.

As I'm making it a point to revisit all of the Disney animated canon, I've noticed there's a interesting slew of these films all in one or two places about which I don't have a whole lot to say. And curiously, all of them share the common absence of the element that really defines a film as Disney. In this blog, I'm going to tackle the first of these periods that I colloquially refer to as the Don Bluth years.

I'm not trying to dog on Don Bluth, but I know he was active with Disney on and off for much of this period, and certain signature bad habits infiltrate the Disney films that also appear in much of his own work. Characters tend to make faces with more frequency, like they're trying to get a newborn to shut up. Authority figures take a few seconds to be needlessly pompous by closing their eyes and waggling their head around. And child actors- my God- they really started cutting corners on their audition process. The dialogue was bland already, but the child performances they get range from obnoxious to shrill. I take a drink every time Fievel says the word 'family', not because I'm playing a drinking game but because I want to avoid throwing the remote at the TV screen.

But moving back on topic, there was much change happening at the Disney company. Disneyland was up and running. The Florida project was underway. Walt was focusing his attention on EPCOT. And, oh yeah, there was the little matter of his death in 1966. Suffice to say, the heart and soul of the company was shifting away from the animated features, and it shows. It's not to say there aren't some gems in there, but until 1989's The Little Mermaid all signs were pointing to the conclusion that the party was over.

So let's scroll through this period. I've already covered The Jungle Book, The Rescuers really needs to be dealt with alongside its follow up, and Winnie the Pooh and company are their own entity, but here's a checklist of everything else in this age that I tend to avoid watching on my own.

A Tundra and Dominations (1961)

Let me say this up front, One Hundred and One Dalmatians isn't a bad film. Cruella makes her mark on Disney's rich history of villains with no cauldron or powers of Hell but through sheer personality. Horace and Jasper are the right kind of one cup of humor to two cups of threat. And the action scenes are surprisingly intense.

The problem is, this film is much more plot driven than character driven. Pongo and Perdita only have the minimal amount of personality needed to drive the film, when there was so much potential for character conflict. What is their responsibility to the 84 puppies that aren't theirs? Is there no thought given to how much more danger their own children will be in by the added lot? Also, while the animation would look fantastic from any other studio, when you set it next to 1955's Lady and the Tramp, it feels noticeably cheaper.

Overall, One Hundred and One Dalmatians is a really solid B-side single from Disney, like Abbey Road's "Here Comes the Sun". If the film had a little more support from its colleagues, those cracks in the quality might not be so evident.

The Bore on the Throne (1963)

Two things about The Sword in the Stone that you can't un-notice. One of the three actors that voiced Arthur recorded the line "Whoa. What? Whoa!" one time, and it repeats through the entire film. And Merlin recycles his own hopping-back-and-forth-on-each-foot-while-waving-his-wand animation every chance he gets. There.

Individual sequences work for this movie, but they don't really fit together as a whole. Half the time Merlin seems to think he's in a Disney educational short or he's the preshow for a Disneyland ride. There are about as many songs as were in Monty Python and the Holy Grail, so we're not really sure if this qualifies as a musical. And the titular Sword in the Stone only serves as bookends, like writer Bill Peet nearly forgot to work it in.

In fact there are only two scenes that really stand out as special. The first is the squirrel sequence, which plays as an emotionally tragic Silly Symphony; life sucks kids, ain't no fairy godmother to heal a broken heart. The other is the wizard's duel with Madame Mim, which the movie never bounces back from. Both scenes can be taken out of context and practically produce more enjoyment without the weight of the rest of the film's mundaneness. It's like Disney's The Phantom Menace.

The Rustic Acts (1970)

You know what would be fun? Let's do One Hundred and One Dalmatians again, but with cats instead of dogs, and instead of Cruella we'll use her driver as the villain! What could go wrong? Well, nothing, as it turns out. Mainly because nothing in The Aristocats really goes- period, much less right. There's some annoying kids, a couple of geese, some jazz music, and Sterling Holloway yells "Quiet!". That's pretty much what happens in the movie.

The only scene that works on any level is the one with the two dogs, who inadvertently foil the crime just by being in the right place. How much better would this movie have been if it had been about those two? Imagine we don't know anything about the will, or Edgar's 'motives'. We just see the story told through Napoleon and Lafayette's point of view. They sense that Edgar is up to no good and they make it a point to foil him. Then imagine they can't even communicate with the cats, but they take it upon themselves to return them to their home purely on the grounds that it's the right thing to do. And then they encounter Edgar again and it's round two. And it's that kind of back and forth, and they wind up being the heroes of the film without ever knowing what it was all about. That would actually be fun.

Throbbin' Head (1973)

It's interesting how, out of all the films of this period, Robin Hood had found new life in modern snippets. The sped up version of "Whistle-Stop" became Hamster Dance, "Oo De Lally" supplied the soundtrack to the 2015 Android commercials about different animal species getting along, and the film became the most frequently used subject for Youtube videos devoted to proving that Disney recycles their animation.

But the movie on its own terms is mediocre. In fact, it may be the single most mediocre film in Disney's animated library. To illustrate this point, when I jump out from behind a stack of crates and shout "Cinderella!" at you, your brain will recall images of the Disney version before your hand makes the slightest move towards your spray mace. But if I do the same with "Robin Hood!" Disney's fox takes a backseat to Errol Flynn, Kevin Costner, and the roundhouse kick you didn't know you were capable of.

I haven't found that anything about this movie stands out, good or bad. It just, kind of, exists. I've known many people who absolutely love Robin Hood, and while I can't argue against their feelings about the movie, I am confused as to why they love it. I personally find that the animated sequence in Bedknobs and Broomsticks mops the floor with this movie; you'd never catch King Leonidas undermining his own authority with crap like sucking his thumb.

Disney's Watership Down (1981)

Um...okay. The Fox and the Hound is historically significant in the sense that it contained the combined stamps of Disney's classic era (Frank Thomas and Ollie Johnston), renaissance period(Glenn Keane, Ron Clements), Pixar directors (John Lasseter, Brad Bird), frequent moonlighter Don Bluth, and whatever Tim Burton was. But despite that power lineage, the end result is a film in conflict with itself.

It's with this film that you begin to see exactly where Disney has limitations. The innocence that Walt worked so hard to preserve is presented here as a losing battle, but somehow not losing enough (I'm not a fan of animal death, but old dog Chief needed to die from the train to make the plot work). Tod and Copper become friends when they're too young to realize that they're natural enemies, which leads to a dark and unresolved message for kids. Not necessarily a bad thing, but under the Disney label it leaves the target audience confused and possibly horrified.

It's a pity then CEO Ron Miller couldn't have created Touchstone a few years earlier, because releasing The Fox and the Hound under a decidedly more adult label could have smoothed over many of the issues. Likewise, literally any other studio could have released the film exactly as it is to resounding acclaim. But as a Disney film, it's the equivalent of Nestlé Water, it implicitly makes promises by name that it straight up defies by taste.

The Blackballed Drone (1985)

And we've arrived. The Black Cauldron is painful. It feels like Disney is doing a Rankin/Bass impression, which is the first problem; Disney should be leading, not following. The second problem is, they crammed two books worth of source material into one film. Characters pop in with no explanation and no substance, leaving you not knowing or caring what's going on. And the third problem is that it's boring. It's really, really, migraine inducingly boring.

It's a pity because the Horned King has the presence of a great Disney villain, regardless of how little he actually does. He manages to make an impact by sheer menace (a well-choreographed lightsaber duel could have cemented him in the cosplay circuits). Sadly, the rest of the cast is absolutely useless. Protagonist Taran is just a casserole of generic exposition and dialogue, and Princess (of something) Eilonwy exists just to give Taran the other half of his conversation. And Nigel Hawthorne is wasted as the NPC bard. Then there's Gurgi. Disney could have absolved all of the issues with The Fox and the Hound if the train that didn't kill Chief had managed to run over Gurgi.

In the end, the movie straight up doesn't work, and I don't believe there was any point in its development where it did. This must have been a scary time for Disney as they only seemed to be getting a product out every four years and the results were rather unpromising. The Disney brothers were gone, and all remnants of the company's former glory had burned out. It's odd thinking how close in proximity The Black Cauldron was to 1989's The Little Mermaid (the definitive start of the Renaissance period), but historically, this was the darkest point of the Dark Ages.

The Playhouse Defective (1986)

We're not out of the dark yet. The Great Mouse Detective is remembered quite fondly by a lot of Disney aficionados, probably more so than it deserves to be. It's not hard to see why. First off, there's Vincent Price as Ratigan, the only animated villain who could out-smile the Joker. Price LOVES his character, and every scene Ratigan is in is a shot of espresso. Second, there's a lot of fun to be had in the movie, from Melissa Manchester's number to the satisfyingly gruesome demise of Felicia the cat; and the Rube-Goldberg events leading up to the line "Smile everyone!" tickle my inner child every time.

But for all of the beats where the movie works there is an underlying issue that people seem to give The Black Cauldron's follow-up a pass on. The Holmes/Watson dynamic fails. The core of a Sherlock Holmes story is to give the reader the same information Holmes is getting and then marvel at how much better he is at putting it together. And while The Great Mouse Detective isn't meant to be a legitimate Holmes story but more of a kid's introduction to the concept, it misses out on that fundamental element. Not a problem by itself, but instead of making Basil a relatable hero for the audience they flanderize him into an intellectual lunatic, and nothing more. We can see that he does trigonometry in his head but we're never allowed to experience the story from inside it.

This of course is the same stumbling block every portrayal of Sherlock Holmes has to work around, and the success depends on Dr. Watson, who serves as our liaison. This version's Watson (David Q. Dawson) is also flanderized into the bumbling sidekick with a British accent. Apart from that he has no other definable traits.

For me though, the most glaring flaw is the climax in the clock tower. It's one of the earliest uses of CGI animation, and the build up to is brilliant. But just when you think it's about to get going, it's over; I think even Yoda's fight with Count Dooku lasted longer. I think that one scene sums up my reaction to the film as a whole. It's disappointing, because it could have been awesome. It's so hard not to root for Ratigan on principle.

All Over & Complacency (1988)

(Do you want to try writing spoof titles for all these films?) Oliver & Company is the reimagining of Oliver Twist, although you'd be forgiven if you made it through the whole movie and never picked up on that. I'm actually racking my brain to remember anything about this movie, and I keep coming back to the realization that the character of Oliver could easily have been adapted out altogether.

More than anybody else, I remember Dodger. Not because he was all that great of a character, but the plot they developed seemed to favor him for whatever reason. I still don't see Billy Joel as a cartoon character, much less a terrier mix. I imagine his casting had to with the production team's assumption that music hadn't changed in five or six years, but as soon as that opening number starts you know the movie is already outdated. And Disney has the distinction of getting three strikes with a single swing: one for green lighting the line "Absoltively posilutely", one for using the line to promote the movie like it was going to catch on, and then one posthumous strike for having been in a dog-centric world and squandering the best chance of making "fetch" happen. Go to the showers.

Even though Oliver & Company was released a few months after Who Framed Roger Rabbit, and The Little Mermaid was well into its final production stage, you can kind of sense an impact Roger Rabbit had on Ariel that Oliver missed out on. Oliver didn't feel like Disney, and by this point & Company didn't seem to even know what they were anymore. But then Steven Spielberg got the Looney Tunes over to the mouse-house for a couple of months and gave them a nice pie-in-the-face reminder of what they weren't. And from there, a mermaid grew tired of the dark place she was brought up in and traded it for a chance to walk in the sun. And thus, the Dark Age came to an end.