Three Sides to a Story

Mark opened his eyes and hoped his father was no longer in his room. He heard him down the hall hitting his mother now as he wiped away the tears from his cheeks. The clock read 5:30 it dads usually anger before work. He pulled the covers over his head and waited for the sound of his dad’s car pulling out of the garage before he got up to get ready for school.

He walked out into the kitchen, his mom sat at the table her face cupped in her hands. He loved his mother, but despised her at the same time. Why couldn’t she just take them away from this? He grabbed his lunch and left without saying a word.

He got hit at home and picked on at school, but she just sits there and lets it happen.

The sun was hot as he walked to school and the extra weight in his backpack caused him to sweat. Mark paused and placed the backpack on the ground and took his windbreaker off and shoved it into the backpack He slung the backpack back over his shoulder and carried on with his walk.

He stopped at the top of a hill that overlooked the school and stared down at the line of buses and minivans as they dropped off his classmates. He thought about turning around and not going to school. He thought about running away from home: running from his tormentors.

He continued on his path.

Mark walked into homeroom and saw Jared who stood there laughing and laughing probably at another student’s expense. Jared laughed at him daily and knew the torment to well. Just watching the lanky bully laugh angered Mark.

He put his backpack down on a desk and removed his jacket and put it back on, the air conditioning cooled him from the heat outside. His sweat began to give his body chills. He dug his right hand back into the black Jansport pulling out a silver handgun he took from his father. As usual no one noticed him. He was nearly invisible unless he was subjected to some type of torment.

A shot rang out.

                A woman gently stepped through the dark past mounds of clothes and matchbox cars. She reached down and shook awake her son.

                “You have to get ready for school, sweetie.” Jared rubbed his eyes, and sat up. His mother smiled at him, “Come on honey.” Jared looked over at the dark alarm clock on his night stand.

                “What time is it Ma?”

                “Time for you to get up. I need to go to work so ill leave your lunch card on the counter. Love you darling.” She kissed his forehead walked out of the room. Jared sat up in the darkness of his room. He knew at this point when the lights were out his dad bailed on the child support payment. He wouldn’t be able to shower, or even have clean clothes to wear.

                His dad did this most of the time, so the lights were constantly off. He grabbed a pair of jeans from the pile on his floor and smelled them. They seemed ok so he put them on and then he picked up a extremely worn tee shirt and did the same.

                He walked into the kitchen. He grabbed some bread and slathered it with peanut butter. He sat down at the kitchen table and stared at the darkness, his sadness overwhelmed him this time every morning. He never let his mother see it he needed to be strong for her. He acted strong around other people, his exterior a brick wall that not even the big bad wolf would be able to blow down, but inside he was full of sadness and anger: only the anger ever spilled out while others were around.

                With a few bites Jared ate his breakfast and headed out to the bus and to school.

                He looked around at the kids with clean clothes, a full stomach, and two parents and his infamous anger began to well inside his heart. He saw one of his usual targets standing by the flagpole talking with a girl that Jared had interest in. He knew the girl would never feel the same about him: he was poor, un-athletic, and unintelligent while the kid she stood talking to was the opposite of him. So Jared’s instinct was to bully him relentlessly. He knew once they hit high school and this kid finally got his growth spurt he would lose one of his favorite targets, but he knew he always had Mark.

                He really wanted to be Mark’s friend he saw similarities between them, but he didn’t know how to make friends. So he joked with him, to others it seemed like he was bullying him the same as all the other kids, but Jared saw Mark as another loner and outcast someone who may understand him. He thought maybe one day he can explain himself to him.

                “You’re such a dick Jared.” The girl said to him after he bullied the smart rich basketball player. Her words hurt him, but he didn’t show any sign of it. Instead he smiled and headed to homeroom.

                “Morning Mr. Jenkins.” he said to the young teacher as he headed to his desk.

                “Hey there, Jared, come here for a moment.”

                Jared walked over to Mr. Jenkins desk, “Yeah?”

                “Your mother called, she asked that you stay a little later today. She got to work and said they asked her to work a double, so we will go over the last test and homework until she can get here, ok?”

                “Ok.” He didn’t want to stay at school any longer than he had to but it beat going home to a dark house and an empty refrigerator.

                “We’ll get some pizza again.”

                “Thanks Mr. Jenkins.” He forced a smile and walked back toward his desk, but was stopped by another student who pulled out a new comic book from his backpack and handed it to Jared.

                Jared opened it up and began to laugh at the newest issue of Deadpool.

                A loud bang echoed off the world maps and literature posters that dotted the walls. Jared felt a sharp pain in his side as he slumped forward across his classmate’s desk.

A second shot rang out.

                A sound of a grandfather clock ticked in the living room as Peter laid wide awake in bed and twitched with each tick of his wife's grandmother’s clock. He always hated it but had kept it for her. Even with her gone he struggled to let it go.

During the day it was a lovely reminder of her, but at night it tortured him with a reminder of her absence. He glanced at the clock, his alarm was about to go off and he would face another school day physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted.

He climbed out of bed and went into the kitchen. His coffee was done brewing. He grabbed a mug from the cabinet and poured himself a cup. He carried it back into his bedroom and flicked on the light. He put the cup down on the nightstand and stared at the alarm clock. The time changed to 4:30 and the radio started blaring. Peter shut it off and sat down on the edge of his bed and sipped his coffee. Staring out the window wondering when his mind will finally let him sleep again.

The grandfather clock ticked away.

He stood up and dressed himself for another day at James Madison Middle School. He walked down the empty hall past the closed door of the unfinished nursery and into the living room.

He grabbed his keys off of a end table and paused for a moment to stare at a picture of him and his wife. She smiled back at him. He picked up another frame and stared at a ultrasound photo: his little boy who never got a chance to take his first breath.

Peter put the picture down, wiped away a tear and headed out the door.

He parked and headed into the building to room 203. He placed his stuff down and sat at his desk when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

"Hello?"

"Good morning Mr. Jenkins, its Mrs. Praga. I'm sorry to bother you so early I was hoping you can stay after with him again until I can come get him after work today."

"Of course, I will try and get him caught up on the homework he missed last week."

He said goodbye and hung up the phone. He looked out over the empty desks and hoped all of his effort with Jared wasn't going to waste. He tried to be the male role model the boy needed. He wondered what type of man his son would have grown up to be. He imagined summer nights like the car accident never happened, his lovely Mona tending to her garden while his son ran around the yard.

His thoughts were broken by his homeroom students as they filed through the door.  He called Jared over and explained his mother's phone call. Jared walked away and began laughing with another student over a comic. Peter began writing in his notebook when he heard a loud bang followed by screams of the students. He jumped out of his chair.

                As Peter ran toward Jared slumped over the desk a second shot rang out and ripped through the teacher’s chest and he dropped to the ground. Mark stared passed Jared who he wanted to hit with the second shot and saw as Mr. Jenkins struggled over toward him.

                Tears flowed from Mark’s eyes as he put the gun under his own chin.

                “Mark, no!” Mr. Jenkins shouted.

A third shot rang out

Be My Ears

Anyone who knows me knows that I love music. Anytime I am home (and not watching a movie) I have head phones in my ears and am jamming out to something. It helps inspire me while writing, he keeps my mind off problems I may be having: it helps me escape a little. If you ask my roommates they will tell you I’m always listening to music and they have to shout t me to get my attention.

What kind of music am I playing?

Great question; you have a lot of great questions. Good for you diligent reader!

My first musical love is Hip-Hop. I love the beats, the poetry, and the rhythmic story telling. When I say I love hip-hop I mean real hip-hop not this bogus shit that plays on the radio which probably has Big L turning in his grave and Rakim shedding tears into his pillow. I love lyricism in an MC. I don’t want some fucking shit about a Tuesday with words no one can understand because the piece of shit behind the mic doesn’t know how to speak clearly. You guys should be ashamed to even call yourselves MC’s you are fucking awful. Though there are plenty of rappers I listen to that are current and not from the 90’s, but most of them don’t get radio play.

My musical taste doesn’t stop at hip-hop it goes far beyond that. Growing up my parents obviously listen to classic rock so I will always have plenty of that jamming in my head, and as I grew older my taste in music has just continued to expand.

I discovered Muddy Waters which led to my love of blues music which opened my ears to some of the greatest guitar players.

Recently I have gotten in to some pop music (I jammed out to Madonna’s new album for Christ sake) which if you contacted elate 90’s early 2000s me I would call you a liar, but sorry past me it is true.

If you really want to hear what it feels like to be my ears while I write or read or doing anything put this Spotify playlist I made on shuffle and as the great Rakim would say “Let the rhythm hit you

‪#‎4albeckandalways‬

I want to just take a moment from my bantering, stories, and awful poetry to give a shout out to my good pal Danny who married the love of his life and best friend last night in a lovely ceremony followed by a grand night of drinks and dancing.

This was a moment a long time coming and I couldn't be happier for my friend. I remember the first time he met his new wife. Danny was my roommate at the time and he told me and Yesabel that he reconnected with an old high school friend and she was coming over that evening. 

No this friend was not his future wife, this was some girl whom Danny had nothing in common with, but this old acquaintance brought over a friend who was perfect for Danny. They conversed so easily it seemed like destiny that she was sitting on our couch. She was brought to make the friend feel more at ease, but it turns out she brought two souls together. 

The two ladies left. Yesabel and I turned simultaneously to Danny and said something along the lines of "Ali is the one for you. You should ask her out, you guys share everything in common." I think me may have harped on how they both did computer stuff that was out of mine and Yesabel's understanding: fucking nerds.

They eventually spent time together and living with Danny I had a front row seat of their blossoming love. I could see in their eyes this was the true thing and it would be forever.

This is a story showing that you will never know how you meet that one true love of your life, but that when they come into your life never let them go.

Danny, you have been there as my friend through some rough times. You were there when I had my heart broken you were by my side with a beer and a game of Madden fired up knowing I don't like to talk about things. You were there lurking in the hallway when our apartment was full of cops and EMTs and were there in the ER. You are a great person my friend and you deserve all you have worked to obtain.

 I wish the new Mr. and Mrs. Albeck all the best in this new endeavor: may your love be eternal and full of bliss. Congratulations. 

P.S. Sorry if Demo and I's slow dance during dinner stole all of your thunder. I really hope a video surfaces soon.

P.S.S. Thank you for allowing me to celebrate with you, I enjoyed seeing you guys on this day and spending time with all the people from the crew that I rarely see.

Title TBA

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Part IV

I headed to the back of the condo building to enter through the garage under it and not have to deal with the security guard again.

I made my way to the stairwell and tried to make it seem like I lived in the building anytime I saw anyone who actually was a resident, but I was dressed in sweatpants, and a ragged jacket. I looked like I should be out on the corner collecting change not in a garage full of Lambos and Buggatis, but none of the people getting in or out of the cars paid any attention to me.

I headed up the stairs all the way to the thirteenth floor. By the time I reached the door for the hooker’s unit I was drenched in sweat and struggled to breathe. It was at this moment I realized I should stop smoking and maybe cut back on my drinking.

 I tried to compose myself as best as I could, pulled out my silenced Walther PPK, and entered the apartment.

“I should have known it was you,” the hooker stared at me, a glass of white wine in her hand, “messing up my carpet was not enough, but you also must shoot my paying clientele?”

I aimed the gun at her, “sit down.”

“Last time I checked I lived here and I do not believe you can tell me what to do, not when your gun is so small.” She sipped her wine and didn’t move, “He is still lying on the floor in the bedroom go handle whatever business you have with him and leave. Whatever money he has on him is my payment, so you can also forget any thoughts about taking it.” She slowly sat down on her couch and picked up a book and began to read it paying no attention to me.

I couldn’t tell if she was setting me up, or if Carracci was really actually just a client. I went into the bedroom.

Carracci was lying on the floor holding his leg above the fresh wound; the hardwood floors were covered in his blood. I didn’t have much time to get him to talk before he bled out. I knelt down next to him.

“Hey there Alexi.” I smiled and put my pistol to the side of his head.

“Fuck you man.”

“Come on now, you had to expect this. You obviously read up on me, you should have known I’m good at what I do.”

“Fuck you. I ain’t telling you shit man.”

“I just need to know how you knew to come after me.”

“Fuck you.” He spit on me. I shot his kneecap.

“Who spits on people? Is that how you became a made man? You spit your way to the top?” I asked as I wiped the saliva from my cheek.

Carracci was silent as he stared down at his two bum legs, I watched as his left hand slowly moved into his pocket. As he pulled a knife out I shot a hole through the back of his hand.

“Now stop moving and stop spitting; just talk, or I’ll finish off the last good extremity you have right now.” I stood up and stepped on his right arm and aimed down at his hand.

            “Our boss had some files from a rival family stolen and saw was a target and you were assigned to take me out.” He cried out.

            “Good, now who is your boss?”

            “We have a new godfather. Giovanni Devoni has been sick and gave the reigns to one of his sons I’m assuming.” I applied more pressure on his arm, “That’s all I got, I swear.”

            “Who stole the files?”

            “Some broad who works for Franklin Williams, the suit in charge of delving out orders for some new organization trying to move in on the established families: she took everything yesterday morning.” He closed his eyes and waited for his death, “I swear that’s all I got.

            “Ok.” I took my foot off of his arm and started to walk out of the room.

            I stopped in the doorway of the bedroom, “Oh yeah, Alexi, I forgot one more thing.”

            “I ain’t got anything else man.”

            “My friend Jack wanted me to ask you something as well.”

            “Who?”

            I turned around and put a bullet through his forehead.        

 

            I walked back into the living room, the woman hadn’t moved from her spot on the couch behind her book. I headed to the door, It felt good that I didn’t have to kill her as well, though I really wish I had some money so I could have her.

            “I hope you know you that you will be paying my floors to be cleaned and my bedroom window to be fixed.” She said without looking away from her book.

            “Now why would I do that?”

            She placed her book onto her naked legs and looked at me, “Sweetie, you do not know who a person in my position sees daily; I will tell them you were here and that you killed him.”

            If she wasn’t sitting there with the subtle lamp light illuminating her every naked curve and perfection I would have killed her. Though, I’m sure leaving her alive couldn’t have made my situation worse. I walked over toward her and pulled a pen out of my pocket. I pulled the book from her lap intentionally grazing her bare leg with my knuckles. Her skin was as soft as a fresh snow fall in the high French Alps: a direct result of the most expensive creams and moisturizers.

            I turned to the book to the front cover page and right under the title Moll Flanders I jotted my name and number down. I placed the book back onto her lap this time I rubbed her leg with my entire hand, she bit her upper lip as I walked away from her toward the door.

            “I will be in touch,” she paused and looked down at the book, “Jason. I will call you with the bill.” She smiled and went back her book.

            I walked back out into the pristine hall way lined with expensive oil paintings climbed into the gold gilded elevator, and headed down to the lobby.

            As I stepped outside I felt my phone vibrating in the pocket of my sweatpants. It was a number I didn’t recognize.

            “Hello?” Horns of passing cabs blared and people walked along the avenue going in and out of stores and restaurants, but no noise came from my phone. “Hello?” I once again questioned my outdated iPhone.

            The young raspy voice of B.R. spoke after a few more moments of silence, “He called.” He sounded nervous.

            “Ok, I’ll head there now. Thank you.”

            I slipped my phone back into my pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Not a single smoke left so I tossed the empty pack into the street. I had some time to before I had to get to the garage on 12^th Ave, a trip that shouldn’t take more than a 15 minute cab ride, so I walked over to High Heels for a drink.

            As I approached the entrance a familiar face stood outside smoking.

            “Can I get one of those?” The blonde bartender reached into her jacket and pulled out a pack handing me one of them. “Thanks.”

            We stood in silence puffing our cigarettes as the smoke rose up past the neon sign for the club.

            “Some people were in here asking about you.”

            “Who?”

            She looked at me her green eyes studying me: probably wondering if she can get more money out of me.

            “I don’t have any more money on me, but if you can tell me what you know it would help.”

            She was silent for a moment, maybe she saw the concern in my face so she spilled the beans, “I’m not sure who they were. A woman with black, hair grey eyes: never saw her before. She saw me talking to you on the cameras, so she may be someone important.” She hesitated, “she pulled me to the back room. I was threatened. I shouldn’t even be talking to you.”

            “Any names?”

            “I can’t,” tears began to roll down her perfect face pausing for a moment in her dimples before proceeding on their journey. I placed my hand on her shoulder; I hoped that it would some sort of comfort. I wasn’t sure. My skills with women weren’t really fantastic; though the hooker in the condo seemed to like me— I really hoped she would call.

            “She fucking threatened my son. I shouldn’t be talking to you.” She turned from me knocking my hand off her shoulder, “I know you’re in danger, but I had to tell them you were looking for that Alexi guy.”

            Yeah, I’m sure it was the Devoni bosses trying to get to me before I got to them they probably figured a woman would be able to talk answers out of another woman easier than sending in muscle.

            “It’s ok.” I said trying to fill my voice with some sort of empathy. “Did you tell them anything else?”

            “I told them you paid me to go in and distract the guard, but you came out without seeing the guy you were after.” She wiped her tears away, and flicked her cigarette into a snow drift.

            “I’m sure they knew I didn’t see him. They’ll know I saw him now. Once all is said and done I’ll be back with a payment to show my gratitude.” I didn’t want to pay her, but a child being threatened was one thing I wasn’t a fan of. I’m like Tony Montana in that way: no women or children. “They won’t hurt your son, I promise.” She smiled at me and headed back into the club.

            I forgot my need for a drink instead I waved down a cab and headed to the parking garage. It was near Kathy’s casino so I would talk to Mr. Williams and head there to figure out why my love life had fallen apart— priorities.

            When I arrived clouds blotted out the full moon leaving only street lights to light my way as I entered the garage.

            I scoured the place looking for the limo, finally finding it on the top level. I guess I could have saved twenty minutes by asking B.R. where the car was parked, but it was too late now. I knocked on the window of the Limo I couldn’t see in, but I knew he saw who was there. I pulled out my snub nose and expected I would have to break the window and rough up Williams a bit, but the door swung open. I slid in to the back seat placing my briefcase holding my sniper rifle between my legs.

            “I knew you would be seeing me sooner or later.” He seemed less nervous when outside of the Southside even with a gun pointed at him. He tossed me a rubber banded stack of money, “finial payment for Carracci.”

            He took off his $2,000 Cartier prescription glasses and began wiping them with a Louis Vuitton pocket square.

            “My boss and I sincerely apologize for the breach in our records that gave you away. He asked that I give you this as reparation in hopes you will continue to work for him moving forward.” He picked a brief case up off the floor and handed it to me, “please put the gun away.”

I slipped the gun back into my jacket pocket and popped open the case, four stacks of money stared up at me.

            “That is one hundred thousand. My boss really wants to thank you for your loyalty over the last two years.”

             “Who is he?”

            “I cannot give you that information. He wishes his identity not be known to anyone but a few select members of the organization.”

            I would have gotten angry if it wasn’t for the Franklins staring at me. Instead I switched subjects, “Who’s the secretary?”

            “Yes, I see Carracci informed you on who stole the files.” He wiped a bit of lint off of his charcoal Dolce and Gabbana suit jacket, “This is your next job actually. Her name is Cynthia Bates, or that is what she went by. She had false documents and a false background. Everything was set up and planned by the Devoni family to try and discover the inner workings of my boss’s organization and his identity.” My heart nearly leapt from my throat when he handed me a photo of a grey eyed brunette like the one the bartender described and the one I was dating until a week prior.

            “Ka . . . Kathy.” I stuttered, my hand holding the photo shaking.

            “You know the woman?”

            “I was seeing her.” I took a deep breath to try and calm my nerves, “Her name is Kathy Bellini. That’s the name she gave me, knowing she was working one over on you she could be putting one over me too.” I noticed a crystal decanter full of whisky, “Mind if I have a drink?”

            “Surely.” He reached over, poured me drink and passed it over to me, “Macallan 62 year old single malt scotch whiskey.”

            I grabbed the glass from him and took a small sip, it tasted like money.

            “We are going to need you to locate her and find out who she passed the information on to. Which we assume is the new head of the family; a person we have yet to identify.”

            “I was looking for her for something unrelated.” I finished my drink and he reached over and poured me another.

            “Thirty thousand a bottle.” He smiled showing his perfect set of teeth.

            “Tastes like it,” I stared down at the glass, “any ideas where to find her?”

            “Unfortunately no, the Devoni family took extreme care with her identity.” He frowned slightly for a moment, but probably thought of the wrinkles frowning causes and wiped the emotion off of his face, “she had all the paperwork and when the team employed to run through employee’s backgrounds looked into her history it was all accounted for.”

            “Ok. I’ll be in contact with you.” I downed the glass of scotch, “hang on to this for me”, I pointed to my sniper rifle, picked up the briefcase of money, and left the car.

As I headed out of the garage my head spun. I didn’t know if it was from the liquor or from the news that the person I have been in search of was Kathy.

“The bitch informed the Devoni’s of my job to kill Alexi. I’ll take care of her and take care of the family head after.” I thought I mumbled to myself. 

“Excuse me sir?” B.R. said softly as he grabbed me by the shoulders to stabilize me.

“Kathy: I have to kill the woman.” I said in a slight haze.

            B.R. guided me to the curb and sat me down, “Breathe, I need to go get Mr. Williams. I hope your talk with him went well enough and I still have someone to drive.”

            I didn’t respond. I sat and tried to get my bearings together.

            “Ok, sir. I will see you.” He started to walk away, “and lay off the booze I can smell it on your clothes.” He headed to the stairs.

            “Hey, B.R.,” he turned and I tossed him the stack of money I had in my pocket, “Thank you.” He smiled and vanished into the stairwell.

            I finally gained my strength back enough to stand and I headed back into the Salem Bay night.

and He Had Risen

“And they shall kill him, and the third day he shall be raised again . . .”

I remember the day; I was walking to his tomb the sun was high in the sky, it was a warm day, a slight wind hit my toes and swayed my robe. He promised he would be back, I was more curious than anything. My friend Jobe was following this man’s every word since he watched him turn water into wine.  Mere parlor tricks, but if he can rise to life after a crucifixion I will follow him, that would be a miracle not seen since Moses and his burning bush (I’ll explain that one in my next entry, it’s actually a funny story) and the greatest thing I have seen since I first travelled time.

Yeah, I travel time; I’m a journalist comprising a masterwork of live articles written when the events of history took place. Yeah, I know that shit is cooler they Billy Dee Williams. My time machine is on the fritz, but I am fixing it and soon will head to some other point in history, maybe I’ll stop home for a cheeseburger first. The food here is awful. Anyway, I was an atheist in my time, so seeing “God’s” son rise from the dead may change that for me and after it is written in modern times it would most likely convert the world since I made it a point to have my first travel be broadcast live from MSG.

I arrived at the tomb, a large boulder stood in front of the entrance and outside of the tomb was Jobe and a harem of former prostitutes that now followed the dead man as well : he sure had no problem in that category it explains the children in villages I visit in my travels that share in his name. The man got around like Tupac and surely has my respect, but not my loyalty.

The woman in his harem all were familiar, I’ve had most of them in my time here. I laughed loudly at the thought of Jesus enjoying my seconds. And I wondered if they showed him the things I taught them. Sex sure changed from then until the time I came from.

“Ah, Sir Michael we welcome you. Will you not join us in a prayer for our messiah?” obviously not in English, I took precautions to learn Aramaic, by watching The Passion of the Christ over and over again.

“Sup Jobey, how’s it hanging?”

He laughed, “Such a strange tongue you have friend. The kingdom of Michigan correct?”

“Go Spartans!” I shouted in English.

“Yes,” he paused confused, “well, come sit. Mary Magdalene has prepared bread and wine for all on this joyous occasion.”

Mary smiled awkwardly at me; I taught her anal a few nights back. She loved it, but I think it shamed her in a deep spiritually way that I would never understand. They frown on sodomy around here. I grabbed a loaf of bread and a handful of her ass.  

I really need to make a note to get myself tested when I get back to 2006.

We sat outside that tomb for hours they only talked about things the crucified guy taught them, while I tried to explain the fundamental rules of basketball and why the Spartans are the greatest college team despite only two tournament championships. They looked and laughed wishing one day they would be able to visit the mystical kingdom of Michigan and meet the mighty King Izzo.

As the sun was hitting its highest point a noise erupted as the rock began to slide to the right and we all stood up and waited for something to happen. With the rock aside the tomb was open, but nothing but blackness peered out, I was taking mental notes because if I pulled a pen and journalist notebook from the jeans I wore under my robe I’m sure I would be looked at as some sort of witch doctor.

Did they fear witches during this time and place in history? Or would they think me a mighty wizard and give me my own harem of women and all the royalties fear brings? Maybe I’ll find out before I head back.

We stood standing looking into the tomb, when we heard a grumbling, and saw him for the first time. He sure as fuck had risen from the dead. No he was not alive when they put him in there I was there when a Roman Centurion ordered three Legionaries to remove him from the cross and put him in the tomb: he had less life in him than Abe Lincoln attending Our American Cousin.  He came out his tan skin had faded to a white, his dark mahogany hair now a light brown. He came out and grabbed Mary Magdalene on the shoulders. We all waited in awe for his first words, but he stood as silent as Marcel Marceau.

Jobe spoke first, “My lord.” He began to cry as he dropped to his knees, the rest of the group followed except for me and Mary who was still being held by Jesus, but tears of joy still ran down her cheeks.

“So, are you just going to stand there? What’s the word homie?”

Jesus turned and looked at me with his eyes which were now black, but he said nothing. He turned back to Mary and leaned in closer. I leaned in to try and catch what he was going to say into her ear, instead he Mike Tysoned her, but instead of spitting the ear he swallowed it, and then made quick work of the rest of her neck.

He had risen but not as the king of men but as a fucking zombie.

I made a beeline for my home wishing I had my Nikes instead of these shitty sandals. I could hear Jobe as he screamed “Halleluiah” as he was savored by his savior.  

Movies That You Should All Sit Down and Watch Because I Said So: Part Four

Ah, welcome, welcome! I hope you have enjoyed reading parts 1, 2, and 3 as much as I have enjoyed writing them. I love all these films and each time I try and pick the next ten I want to pass along to you guys I think long and hard, though some of my descriptions may be lax, do not take that as a sign that the film is any less of a piece of art compared to one which I give a long description. All these are movies you should watch not just because I told you too, but because they are pieces of cinematic history (mainly because I told you too and my opinion is the greatest one I know) and if you love movies you will appreciate each choice..

Now I may have mentioned in Part 2 that I was going to launch into the sports version of my list, but I figured two themed lists in a row would be lamer than a quadriplegics legs so I decided against it. I really do love you Spacejam and I swear we will be together soon, but another night.

Well, with all that said let us venture into this month’s ten films. 

The Man Who Knew Too Much (1934)- Alfred Hitchcock; Gaumont British Picture Corporation

While Hitchcock later remade The Man Who Knew Too Much (I will put it on a list one day) in 1956 with a far superior cast I decided to pick his original masterpiece simply because I love Peter Lorre and what he brings to the film. While the remake is a better film (I t was made with a extremely larger budget mainly because it was backed by a large Hollywood studio) it really missed Peter Lorre’s creepiness. The plot remains the same: a couple discovers an assassination attempt and in order for them to keep quiet their daughter is kidnapped which, with Hitchcok at the helm, is a wonderfully suspenseful thriller.

Ministry of Fear (1944)- Fritz Lang; Paramount Pictures

Fritz Lang is a master behind the camera and his mastery shines in this film. His direction over shadows the story and acting as a whole, but with him behind the camera he creates a wonderful Noir and gets the best out of the story. Ray Milland plays a man who had just been released from an asylum and manages to find himself caught up with a Nazi spy ring and murder, a lot of suspense keeps the story moving forward and your eyes glued to the screen. The ending is super Hollywood, which would be my only complaint. After a movie full of dark shadowy characters they ride off in the sunset planning a wedding? That was 1940’s Hollywood for you, maybe you will enjoy the ending, but everything before the car ride on a beautiful day is a film worth every minute you will invest. 

The Man With the Golden Arm (1955)- Otto Preminger; Otto Preminger Films, Carlyle Productions

Frank Sinatra plays a recovering heroin addict just released from a stint in prison, but the life he returns to is the same one he was trying to escape. His wheelchair bound wife, his reputation as the best card dealer in Chicago, and his addiction. He is an aspiring drummer, trying to make a clean break from drugs and his illegal life but he is sucked back into use. A scene where he tries once again to give up dope was powerful and unheard of in American cinema at the time and Sinatra played his part perfectly leading to his well deserved second Academy Award nomination. 

The Killing (1956)- Stanley Kubrick; Harris-Kubrick Productions

Stanley Kubrick’s second full length film the Killing, take an inside look at a group of crooks and their robbery of a race track. The plot involves many characters with different personalities each with their own dreams about what to do with the money. But would it be a classic tale of too many cooks in the kitchen? Or will it go off without a hitch? I know how it turns out, but I won’t tell you instead I recommend that if you are a fan of Film-Noir crime thrillers you sit down and enjoy the film and then we will talk about it.

Once Upon a Time in the West (1968)- Sergio Leone; Rafran-San Marco Production, Paramount Pictures

This is my favorite Sergio Leone directed film. Yes, I know that means I find it better than the Man with No Name Trilogy and I will defend that opinion if you want to argue. Though, that doesn’t take away from those films which will all appear on my blog at some point in the future.

This film gave the blue eyed Henry Fonda a chance to play a villain and the performance he delivered was one that should go down as one of the best in the history of the western genre. Pair him with the always badass Charles Bronson and his harmonica backed by the always incredible score of Ennio Morricone you end up with the greatest western and one of the greatest movies of all time.

The Godfather: Part II (1974)- Francis Ford Coppola; Paramount Pictures, Coppola Company

Take the greatness of part one and add to it Robert De Niro playing a young Vito Corleone and you create the greatest sequel in motion picture history. As I did with the first Godfather in part one of this series, I don’t think this needs many words. I should not have to tell you to go and watch this American epic. You should have already watched it, but if not I will just let the 6 Academy Awards and 11 nominations speak for themselves. Just go watch De Niro in one of his greatest performances of his career. 

Salvador (1986)- Oliver Stone; Hemdale Films

Over shadowed by Stone’s Best Picture winning Platoon (it will show up on a list eventually) most people forget that Salvador was nominated for a couple awards at the 1987 awards as well. Obviously Platoon was the Stone film to actually take home awards but there was a reason this film’s screenplay and its star actor James Woods were nominated. James Woods plays Richard Boyle who is an American photojournalist that drives down to El Salvador at the start of that nation’s civil war between the military government (which was supported by the U.S.) and a group of left wing guerrilla groups knows as the FMLN. Going along with him for the ride was an out of work disc jockey Doctor Rock played by Jim Belushi.

Once down in El Salvador the apparent seriousness (which they underestimated) of the situation becomes clear to the pair of Americans. Stone portrays the violence and human rights violations that were occurring not only during the time period which was taking place but also the continuing atrocities that were occurring while the filming (on location in El Salvador while the civil war still raged on) occurred.

In my mind this is a far more powerful film than Platoon and deserves a place as one of the best films of the eighties. 

Up in the Air (2009)- Jason Reitman; Paramount Pictures

After a million posts using Anna Kendrick GIFs one of her movies finally appears!! She did a brilliant job and should have won the Academy award instead of fucking Mo’nique. Who does she think she is? Cher? Bitch go get a last name and give your award to Anna.

Along with Anna getting a nod from the academy so did George Clooney and Vera Farmiga whom were also both extremely deserving of the nomination.

The film came out at the right time as the economy was in a shit-hole and people were losing their jobs, so a movie about a company that has employees who fire people for pussy bosses was a perfect fit. Though the film is more than a look at the state of the economy, though the interviews with fired employees (a lot of whom were real people who got laid off and not actors) are heart wrenching (if you have a heart) the main focus of the film is a man trying to justify the  loneliness of his lifestyle. Reitman’s story makes you feel for each of the three characters at different times throughout the film, and he untimely weaves a beautiful tale of love, deception, and the struggle of everyday life.

The Ides of March (2011)- George Clooney; Cross Creek Pictures, Exclusive Media Group

One of the best political themed films in recent times, Ryan Gosling delivers the best performance of his career (yes, better than his Academy Award nominated performance in Half Nelson) and Clooney shows why he is one of my favorite current actors. The two stars are surrounded by a powerful supporting cast with fantastic performances by Philip Seymour Hoffman, Paul Giamatti, Evan Rachel Wood, and Marisa Tomei create a wonderful behind the scenes look at the American political landscape mixed with some Hollywood story lines.

Clooney is as fantastic behind the camera as he is in front of it and paired with cinematographer Phendon Papamichael (does a name get more Greek?) sets the tone for the backstabbing and misleading that takes place throughout the film. 

Birdman: Or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) (2014)- Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu; New Regency Pictures, M Productions, Le Gribsi, TSG Entertainment

I heard people mention that this film did not deserve to walk away with the Academy Award for best picture, but after watching it I think those people are just wrong. I think Birdman was fantastic in almost every aspect of film making. Each of the actors from Keaton to Watts provided some of the best performances of their respective careers. America’s sweetheart Emma Stone without question gave her best performance in her short career I hope this opens the door for her taking more serious roles, and matures her as an actor.

 Then there is the goofy Zach Galifinakis who I can’t stand most of the time (don’t get me started on the god awful Hangover films), but he gave his best performance since his Oscar worth rendition of Weird Wally in Below. That’s a joke. Below is a really dumb movie, but his character was credited as Weird Wally, so, I mean, it has that going for it. But, for real, I liked Galifinakis in his role in this movie.

In my humble (and always correct, I guess that makes it not humble at all . . . whatever) opinion, director Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu did a flawless job behind the camera and absolutely deserved his Academy award and so did cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki. 

Birdman is an all around great film that I will recommend to anyone.