Pluto's Uprising

Writing Prompt: The Undelivered Letter

2012-12-13T00:53:00.002-05:00

Dr. Morton,

If you have received this letter, then our efforts to introduce Compound X-352 into the general population has proved successful. Please take a brief moment to congratulate yourself. This operation would not have happened without your diligence and your dedication. The monetary reward agreed upon in your contract will be deposited in your bank account no later than this evening. Please allow 2 business days for the funds to clear. The funds are yours to keep but we urge you to make a donation no less than 15% to The Collection.

The concealment phase will commence as scheduled. At this time, gather any documents, recordings, and images associated Compound X-352 or The Collection. Place these items in an approved document container (see attached memo for list of approved document containers). Once this is done, leave behind your credentials and exit the building immediately. An unmarked car will pick you up and escort you to the rendezvous point. You will be fully debriefed and informed of your next project.

During your debriefing, do not mention the true nature of The Collection or the properties of Compound X-352. Any attempt to reveal the true nature of The Collection or the properties of Compound X-352 will result in immediate occupational and physical termination. Any attempt to contact individuals outside of The Collection will result in immediate occupational and physical termination. Any attempts to withhold any documents, recordings, or images containing information regarding The Collection or Compound X-352 will result in immediate occupational and physical termination. If you are ever captured, MedTechs will disavow any knowledge of your affiliation. Any individual deemed a known associate will be terminated as well. If at any point you are compromised, inject yourself with the syringe that was placed on your desk. If you have mistakenly disposed of or misplaced the syringe, please see Hugo prior to exiting the building for immediate occupational and physical termination.

Regards,

Dr. Willam F Harmond
Chief Biological Engineer

Writing Prompt: Mexican Standoff

2012-12-12T00:49:00.000-05:00

A single black briefcase sat between the three of us. On the surface, the case didn’t t seem too important. If you didn’t know any better you’d probably glance over it. Unassuming. Uninteresting . It was just an average ordinary briefcase. It reminded me of one I saw on the clearance rack of a local department store or one I saw in the lost and found at the airport. The case itself wasn’t special nor did it hold any significance. It’s contents, however, was a different story.

The contents of the briefcase meant different things to each of us. For Johnny, it was power. If he had the case, he would have leverage over every single high ranking official in the city of Chicago. Darrell reasons were more honorable. Well, about as honorable as any hired gun’s intentions could get. He sought a way out. A crooked cop had promised him witness protection in exchange for the contents of the briefcase. In the back of his mind, he knew the promise was empty and a bit far fetched. Hell, I even told him it was but he wasn’t given much of a choice. Not many options for a guy facing hard time. I was the only wild card in the bunch. I didn‘t have much of a reason nor any real stake in the matter. Shits and giggles. Shake things up. Just in it for the sport.

Three men. One briefcase. Zero room for error. We skipped the dull pleasantries. We all knew why we were here. In hindsight, we were all probably tipped off by the same person. We each stared at each other, then at the case, then back at each other. All three of us frozen. It wasn’t fear. It was a pride thing. A mental test of wills. We all wanted to make a mad dash for the case but we knew the first person to make a run for it would end up dead. I was packing and it was plain as day that that the others were too. I got rather bored with all of the tedious build up and decided to make a play. I drew my weapon. Darrell and Johnny immediately followed suit. Great minds think alike. That night, ours did too.

“What the fuck are you guys doing here?” Darrell shouted “You know what this means to me?!?”

“Can it, Darrell! Your life is pretty much over.” Johnny said. “I’m taking the briefcase and making this city mine!”

I didn’t say a thing. Words were trivial.

“ Oh, so this is the thanks I get for doing all your dirty work?” Darrell said

“The family appreciates what you’ve done for us and we’re going to take care of you. We promise but now it’s time to step aside.”

“Bullshit. How are you going to take care of me while I’m locked up, Johnny?”

At this point, we were alternating our firearms between each other. . It’s funny, a month ago, before shit hit the fan, we were knocking back boilermakers at Charley’s pub. Hoods like us were never meant to be friends for ever. . There’s no honor among thieves. Loyalties change, people die, and life goes on. This is the hand we chose.

“He has a point, Johnny boy. What are you going to do for him?” I asks. I couldn’t resist adding in my two cents.

“Stop fucking instigating, Samson!” Darrell says before Johnny could even speak.

“How did you even hear about this?” Johnny asks.
.
“That’s not important.” I said.

“Was it Lou?”`Darrell asked

I smiled and shrugged. I could feel the patience of both men thinning out.

“You smug, fuck. . .” Johnny said under his breath

Darrell focuses his gun on me “Fucking Lou.” he mumbles under his breath. “Sammy, I like you but if you ain’t outta here in two seconds, I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you.” He cocked the hammer of his gun and aimed it between my eyes. Darrell wasn’t a stranger to violence. He built up a pretty reputable body count in his early days but he hasn‘t done any wet work in years. I wasn’t afraid of him. A myth was built around this man and it was all a charade. He relied on fear of others. Guys would kill themselves if they even heard a slight rumor Darrel was after them. Blow their fucking brains out. He had that power over people. Darrell was the boogey man in this city but not for me. I saw him for what he was. An overblown ghost story perpetuated by the family and the chicken shit low-lifes in Chicago.

I decided to call to call his bluff.

“ If you‘re going to shoot me you better fuc--- . . . .”

Darrell’s eye twitched but he didn‘t blink. A loud bang. A flash of light. A sharp piecing sensation in the middle of my forehead.

That’s all I remember from that night. I wonder what happened to that briefcase. . . .

Excerpt from Right of Way: Beginning Chapter

2012-08-05T23:12:00.002-04:00

What you are about to read is a short and very rough excerpt from a project I worked on a couple of years ago. It's the beginning of what is suppose to be home-invasion story. I ended up abandoning this project after I couldn't figure out how it would end. I always loved the dialogue in this story and really enjoyed building the relationship of the two main characters. I previously posted an excerpt from the same story in an earlier post. If you read that you may sort of be able to see how dynamic the characters become over the course of the plot. Hope you enjoy - BD

“Seriously?.”

“You can’t have a sip of my drink yet.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I haven’t had a sip of it yet.”

“Do you just enjoy being an asshole?”

“I will be more than happy to share my beverage with you once I’ve broken the seal and establish ownership.”

“Establish ownership? Who the hell do you think you are right now?

“Honey, we’ve been over this.”

“And you will have to continue to explain this to me because I still don’t understand.”

.:sigh:. “This lovely beverage belongs to me. If I let take the first sip, I am no longer the owner, you are. So, anytime I take a sip, in the back of my mind it will belong to you, and I will feel weird about finishing the whole thing. It would just be rude.”

“So why don’t you just open it and take a sip and then I can take a sip. Problem solved.”

“In a perfect world, that would solve the problem. Unfortunately we don’t live in a perfect world and I’m not thirsty right now. If I open it now with no intention on drinking it, all of the carbonation will leak out and it won’t taste as good. This will force me to throw it out and that’s just plain wasteful. For god’s sake, Layla, there are children in Somalia that are dying of hunger everyday. . “

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Maybe so but you still love me.”

.:laughs:. “That’s debatable.”

“Is it? I mean if it were up for debate you wouldn’t have accepted my marriage proposal.”

“. . .”

“You’re no fun.”

.:whispers:. “That’s not what you said last night.”

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you because you were talking under your breath.”

“I said ‘That’s not what you said last night!’”

“Did you just make a sex joke?”

“So, what if I did?”

“I’m shocked right now.”

“I’ve made sex jokes before.”
“You have but this is the first time I‘ve legitimately been impressed by.”

“Is it your personal mission to piss me off everyday?”

“No. My personal mission is to have sex with you everyday.”

.: shakes head:. “I can’t believe I agreed to marry you! You are an infant. If you keep this up I‘m not sure how long I can take this”

.:silence:. From both parties.

“And your last “witty” comment was fucking stupid. You seriously need to learn to turn it off sometimes. You’re not as clever as you think you are.”

“Ouch.”

“Don’t talk to me! I’m fucking pissed.”

“Come on, Lay. Don’t be like that. You know I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t love you.”

“. . .”

“I’m going to tickle you. If you don’t talk to me.”

“Don’t you dare fucking touch to me. If you touch me, I’m going to punch you square in the balls. Fucking try me! I swear to god.”

“ Layla, I’m driving. If you punched me in the balls, we would both die in a horrific car accident. Also, I’ve seen you punch. We probably wouldn’t be able to procreate if it landed.”

“Don‘t try me”

“You’re so sexy when you’re mad.”

“Patrick, don’t start.”

“I may just pull this car over and ravish you.”

“You‘re un-fucking believable.”

“And you’re bluffing.”

“Only one way to find out.”

.:Pat reaches over:.

.:Layla punches him in the crotch. . .hard:.

“Yeah. . .You weren’t bluffing.”

“. . giggles. . “

“Are you laughing right now?”

“You should have seen your face.”

“Well, you punched me in my fucking balls. . I hope you’re proud of yourself. You have successfully made me upset me and now I don’t want to talk to you.”

“You’re not talking to me?!? If anything, we’re even.”

“Explain to me how we are even.”

“You were being an ass and I punched you in the balls. Tit for tat.”

“No. Even would be you saying something about my hairline or making a disparaging remark about my penis size or sexual prowess. Even is not preventing the birth of our future children. In fact, to be even at this point, I would have to punch you in your ovaries.”

“We can have make-up sex. You can punch my ovaries that way”

“That sounds awfully tempting but no. I’m mad at you right now. Kudos for that innuendo, by the way. You‘re on fire today. ”

“I think I can change your mind.”

.:Layla unbuckles her seatbelt and advances towards Patrick:.

“What are you about to do.”

“I’m not exactly sure. I was going to nibble on your neck and then see where it went from there.”

“You do realize I’m driving right now?”

“I’m a smart girl. I’ll figure it out.”

“You know it’s really hard to stay mad at you when you talk that way.”

“Do you think I’m bluffing this time?”

“There’s a slight chance.”

.:rolls her eyes:.

.:Layla starts to kiss Patrick’s neck:.

“Do you remember how this argument even started?”

“Patrick, shut up.”

.:Layla moves from his next to his lips:.

“Holy shit! Layla get down!”

Car crash.

3 AM

2012-07-06T21:43:00.002-04:00

3 AM

Brandon Dues

The club was a sea full of elbows and backsides

My eyes were bloody crimson like the shore during red tide

Drunk and kind of broke

Pockets getting thinner

My face was feeling numb

As a result from all the liquor

Five Jack and Cokes

I started with a cider

I boisterously shouted at the bar keep

“Make me a St. Elmo’s fire!”

The slags on the wall were such a dreadful bore

The theme for that night must have been “Dress and act like you’re a whore”

As the speakers melodically vibrated

Their nether regions jiggled

“How do they keep their balance?”

My mind is boggled by the riddle

Returned to the bar and I think I ordered shots

The exact number escapes me so there’s a whole in this plot

It was 12:35

A dangerously beautiful lass entered into the picture

“I’ve got to keep my cool.

Nobody likes a filthy Richard”

I settled by her side

Now this is where the plot thickens

I let her know my name in between the haze of remixes

She smiles and we talk

I forgot to catch her name

She suggests a hasty exit

“This place is hot and kind of lame”

We continued the Oxford pleasantries as we made our way out the door

While outside, it began to rain

It quickly progressed into a heavy downpour

We ran across the street

And ducked between an alley

The Shipyard pub’s door was ajar

I can see into their galley

I apologize in advance

But this next part is a bit fuzzy

I was still considerably drunk

And felt a little stuffy

I was pushed against a wall

Her tongue was down my throat

A rain drop fell upon my head

And my phone was fucking soaked

The next couple scenes have somehow gone missing

I vaguely remember sex

And the ferocity of our kissing

Her body laid near

Expressionless and blank

I tapped her on the shoulder

It would be rude not to extend thanks

To my surprise there is no response

“Is she the type that wants distance”

I pulled her body close and notice her pulse was non existent

As of now I‘m standing frozen

My mind unable to comprehend

Last night I fell in love

Now she‘s dead at 3 AM. . .

I'm Still Here

2012-01-30T02:00:00.002-05:00

I'm Still Here

Brandon Dues

Darling, I can hear you breathing

Hard

Tearing at the wall until the lights come

Everything you ever cherished

Gone

I just don’t know what to say. . .

Your apartment is so bare and

Clear

Distant memories always stay so

Near

It took every strength to fight those

Tears

As you paid out all our credit

Arrears

I still don’t know what to say. . .

Startled at the ever slightest

Sound

It rings like a very thunderous

Pound

Everything has mad e you tightly

Wound

You just can’t get past that day. . .

I remember when the dead bolt

Popped

Strangers entered with guns drawn

“Stop!”

The tears flowing from your eyelids

Dropped

To the floor that fateful day. . .

You caught my body when it fell right

Down

The shock and horror as the blood turned

Brown

Weeping as you held my lifeless

Crown

As I left the world that day. . .

I wish you could feel my tight

Embrace

You shiver as try to touch your

Face

A ghost. I will never leave this

Place

I just wish you could hear the words I say. . .

One Night Stand?

2012-01-12T02:03:00.001-05:00

One Night Stand?

by
Brandon Dues

You just wake up in a room. It’s never the your own. Always someone else’s. You look around for clues to sort of piece together the last 12 hours. It’s all a mystery to you. You try to get up at your normal speed but you forget to account for the alcohol in your system and end up stumbling over. What you previously thought were bed sheets are actually fibers from the shag rug that you thought would be a good idea to sleep on. As you (slowly) bring yourself up to an upright position, you notice a woman. Unlike you the mystery woman you most likely had sex with decided to fall asleep on a more comfortable structure. She starts to come to. You vaguely remember her from the night before. She was a lot more attractive then. You contemplate faking that your asleep but you’re reaction time is still a bit off. You lock eyes and keep them there for what seems like an eternity as you try to remember her name. The awkwardness of the whole situation becomes too much and you smile and wave as if you were doing some sort of meet and greet. She ask you “What are you doing on the floor”. Unable to come up with a valid excuse or anecdote you tell her the truth. “What do you mean you don’t know” she replies. You now have a witty response. You tell her. She laughs but you feel it was only to humor you. You are now faced with a very long and almost deafening silence. You try to come up with another witty retort to break the silence but by the time this happens she lays back down. Before she falls back asleep she beckons you to come back to bed. The funny things about this is you don’t remember being in bed in the first place. As you look around, the evidence proves otherwise. It’s only now you realize you’re completely naked and the only thing separating your dangling participle from the outside world is a woman’s tank top. You sit there for minutes contemplating your next move. In your current state, relocating your clothes will take more effort than taking the mystery woman up on her offer. It seems a bit rude to you to use this stranger’s tank top as a loin cloth, so, you use every ounce of strength to remember where you placed your undergarments. By some miracle, you actually remember. You cast the tank top aside and make your way towards the bathroom. You cove up by cupping your genitals in your hands. You laugh at yourself for being a walking cliché. As you retrieve your underwear from the bathroom sink you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your eyes are bloodshot and your breath smells like the inside of a ashtray. . .soaked in gin. There is an outside chance that you may revisit a sexual encounter with the mystery woman sometime in the next hour. The idea of morning sex intrigues you, so, you decide to freshen up. You notice that there is a bottle of mouth wash on the bathroom counter. You uncap the mouthwash as discreetly as possible and take a couple of swigs. During this time, you remember that you have to urinate. You try kill two birds with one stone by taking the longest piss of your life and somewhat freshening your breath but the mouth wash is a bit too strong for you and spit it out all over her mirror. You make your way back to the strange woman’s bed. On your way, you stumble on something you assume is a high heel boot. As you pull her comforter over and settle in, you notice two things. 1) This woman is completely naked and 2) Something seems a bit off about this whole situation. You don’t remember her hair being that color. When you initially woke up her hair was blonde. Now, her hair looks as if it has a reddish tint. You brush it aside and blame it on the alcohol. As you lay down and ponder the best way to inquire about another round of sex, something else seems a bit off. The shape of the blanket has changed. . . When you pulled it over a moment ago it had rounded edges. Now, the edges are squared. For some reason this doesn’t disturb you as it should. You tell yourself that this will all make sense when you wake up. You abandon the idea of mid-morning coitus in favor of a couple more hours of sleep. You move closer to the naked mystery woman and embrace in a standard spooning position. It’s only when you finally fall asleep that you realize why everything was a bit off. . . Why her hair changed color. Why the edges of the comforter were different. You open your eyes and notice that the mystery woman has disappeared. Her belongings have disappeared as well and are replaced by your own. You slowly put together the pieces. The reason you couldn’t remember anything from the night before wasn’t because of the alcohol, even though you had plenty, it was because it never happened. The last twelve hours are a mystery because all of your days seem to run together at this point. The mystery woman that you most likely slept with wasn’t a mystery at all. In fact, you knew her. Well, you did at one point but now she’s changed more than you can keep up with. You slept on the floor because you couldn’t stand sleeping alone. You even tried to make it different by purchasing a new comforter. It never worked. Hence, why you continually decide to sleep on the floor. Your eyes were red because you spent the better part of the evening weeping into the only thing she left behind, her tank top. Everything that “occurred” last night wasn’t real. It was all just a fantasy scenario that you cooked up in your drunken, depressed, and heartbroken state of mind. The truth is that she left because you tried to kill to birds with one stone but ended up just pissing your life away. The truth is she’s gone and she’s never coming back. It’s never someone else’s room. It’s always your room. It’s always going to be your room. . .until you decide to move on.

The Conversation

2012-01-09T23:37:00.001-05:00

The Conversation

Brandon Dues

“I finally realized what truly upsets me about our whole situation. You just don’t care. You never care. . . .about anything. It’s kind of sad when you think about it. I mean, here I am putting absolutely everything I can give into this relationship and it doesn’t matter. It’s a moot point. You react to ‘I Love You’ the same way you react to your morning alarm going off. So, why even say it at this point, you know?”

“I’m sorry. Did you say something just now?”

“I could tell you that I‘ve been cheating on you with your best friend and you wouldn‘t even bat an eye. I could tell you that I met someone at the gym and you‘d just shrug it off.”

“What do you think we should eat for dinner?”

“You didn’t hear anything I said, did you? This must be some sort of defense mechanism you’ve built up over the years, which is strange considering I’m your first real long term relationship. It seems to me like you’re completely inept in dealing with any sort of problems that arise between us.”

“What do you think about Chinese?”

“I’m unhappy with this arrangement. This isn’t working for me anymore. I need to be with a person that is emotionally responsive to my needs. You’re a shell of a person and I hate it. I hate you.”

“You’re right we did have Chinese last night.”

“I’m leaving. . .”

“That’s fine but can you grab some milk on your way home.”

“I just bought that milk three days ago.”

“I know but I used most of it to make you dinner the other night. Remember?”

“That’s right. You did make me dinner?”

“So, will you?”

“Will I what?”

“Pick up some milk? I know how much you like cereal in the morning.”

“Yeah. . . .sure.”

“If you come home too late just sleep on the couch. You wake me up when you come to bed.”

“Fine. . . Hey?”

“Yes, dear?”

“I love you”

“.We need Eggs, too. We’re out of eggs.”

Coffee Shop

2012-01-02T02:57:00.002-05:00

Coffee Shop

Brandon Dues

She sat in a dimly lit corner of the coffee shop I often frequent. I've never seen her before so I assumed she was new in town. I couldn't keep my eyes off of her. Tall, tan, beautiful, and by the look of the book she was reading, incredibly intelligent. By some miracle, I was able to place my order. This may sound a bit trite but I felt there was an aura about her. I was unnaturally attracted to her. I can honestly say I’ve never felt this way about anyone, let alone a complete stranger before. She was completely and utterly captivating. I walked past her. . . Several times. I’m not sure what I was expecting. In a perfect world this woman would see me, call me over, and we’d talk for hours until the coffee shop closed. We’d swing by my place for a late night drink and she’d fall asleep in my arms. Lost in this daydream, I barely heard the barista call my name for my order. I thank the barista and retrieve my order. Normally, I’d just leave and kick myself for saying anything. Ultimately, I’d pine over for the rest of my life and always wonder what could have been with the unlawfully beautiful woman that sat in the dimly lit corner of the coffee shop. I’ve seen my share of beautiful women but this was different. I felt like I needed to know this woman. I felt like I needed to be a part of her life. I felt like she needed to be in mine.

“Hi.” I said

Nothing.

I tried again. This time a little louder.

She looked up.

I smile. In my mind I looked really smooth, however, in reality I probably looked like the creepiest man in the state of New York.

We stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. It’s funny how a beautiful woman can turn an otherwise confident man into a socially awkward child that completely forgets the logistics of common speech.

“Hi. . . “

“Hi”

“You said that already. . . “

“I did. Sorry. I noticed you when I came in. I don’t normally do this and what I mean by ‘I don’t normally do this’ is I never do this. I think you’re absolutely beautiful. I know you probably get that a lot and I’m truly sorry if I’m bothering you but I’d hate myself for the rest of my life if I didn’t say anything to you. . . My name is Scott, by the way.”

There was an eternal moment of silence. She sat there and stared right through me.

I was completely shocked when she extended hand and said

“My name is Layla.”

“Nice to meet you, Layla. I’ve already said this but you are absolutely gorgeous.”

“Actually, you said I was beautiful. Not the same thing but I appreciate the compliment.”

She smiled. It was hard to gauge whether her smile was genuine or just polite.

“Well, listen. I would love to sit here and chat up the beautiful and tastefully sexy woman at the coffee shop but I have to be somewhere. Can I have your phone number and maybe we could talk or set up a date? I’d love to take you out to dinner.”

She sat there and stared straight through me in the exact same manner as she did during my first introduction.

“Sure. Why the hell not?”

I reached for my cell phone. Nothing there. Of all days to leave my phone at home it had to be the day I met my dream girl. THE dream girl.

“Shit. Hold on a second. I’m going to go grab a pen. Just. . . Stay here.”

“I’ll be right here waiting.”

I smiled. She smiled. At this point, I’d like to think she was charmed by my forwardness.

I ventured over towards the front counter.

“Hey, sorry to bother you. Can trouble you for a pen?” I asked the barista.

“Yeah sure.”

He handed me a black ball point pen. I took the pen and scribbled a small design on the palm of my hand to see that it worked. I was happy when it did.

As I walked over to the dimly lit corner of the coffee shop, I was surprised , and frankly shocked , to find that my dream girl had disappeared. And it wasn’t just her. All of her belongings, her books, her coffee, everything had completely disappeared as well. It was as if nobody had ever even been there. It was if she never existed. It was like she vanished.

I looked around the coffee shop thinking maybe she had just moved her stuff or I had misread her location. In hindsight, I now realize how impossible that would have been. I took my eyes off of her maybe twenty seconds at the most. No person could humanly move that fast. It was as if she was a. . . ghost.

Confused, I walked back to the front counter of the coffee shop.

“What can I do for you, boss? You can keep the pen, by the way.” the barista asked.

“Thanks. To be honest, I was going to keep the pen anyway but I don’t feel as bad now that you’ve offered it to me. That’s beside the point. Anyway, did you see where that woman went.?”

“What woman?” the barista asked.

“The beautiful woman that was sitting in that dim corner.”

“There hasn’t been a person sitting there all day.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Nobody’s sat there at all today.”

“That’s impossible. There was a woman there. A beautiful woman.”

“Are you sure about that, pal?”

“Positive.”

“I’m telling you. I’ve been here all day and I haven’t seen any one sit there.”

“Are you sure? Her name was Layla. She was tall. Had a nice tan. She was well read and by the looks of it very intelligent. She sat in that corner over there. She was. . . Perfect.”

“Sounds like a real catch but I can assure you nobody was over there. Take it for me, kid. If something sounds like it’s too good to be true, chances are, it probably is.”

Shots from the Dark

2011-09-13T20:04:00.004-04:00

Shots from the Dark

Brandon Dues

I dressed

all the same

Very plain

In an alley

down the block

Not the same

Out of frame

In the dark

There were shots

Bloody stain

Blood stains

On the pavement

There were stains

Bloody stains

The night was dark

Very stark

The smell of murder

Flies like a lark

From the dark

Booming shots

All those shots

She fell limp

In my arms

So ashamed

So afraid

She fell limp

In my arms

What a shame

By her side

Where I stayed

She was dying

I was silent

No words to say

Such a shame

All the same

The night was dark

Very stark

The smell of murder

Flies like a lark

From the dark

Booming shots

All those shots

Runaway

He ran away

Getaway

I had to wait

For the sirens

Have to wait

For those sirens

He got away

Still a shame

A perfect beauty

To have died

Such a way

Too far away

When I saw her

Without a name

All the same

The night was dark

Very stark

The smell of murder

Flies like a lark

From the dark

Booming shots

All those shots

A Cautionary Song pt. 2

2011-07-28T02:36:00.007-04:00

A Cautionary Song part 2

Brandon Dues

(Inspired by 'A Cautionary Song' by The Decemberists)

There’s a place my lover goes
When it is late
And I am soundly sleeping

Through the door
With sexy hair
She closes it
So I won’t hear her scheming
She’s creeping

And she calls a cab to take her where
The other man will stay until
She come to play

And he’ll gulp down drinks with olives
When she comes
He won’t acknowledge
Or have a word to say
Not one word to say

At the bar
It’s quiet now
A drink is passed
That’s mixed with gin and bitters

She takes it fast
And winks at him
As if to send a subtle little signal
“Come hither”

So, they meet up at his caravan
And travel far so no one
Knows their escapades

A place outside the county line
The motel is dubbed
‘The dirty rotten palisades’
They’re both getting laid

In the room
The shades are drawn
And they make love
As if they just got married

He pulls her hair
She bites his neck
The sex is long and so uniquely varied
It’s scary

And when she’s done
She showers
The kind that lasts an hour
In an attempt to
Wash her sins away

And he smiles
As she lathers
A smirk that’s for the latter
“That girl’s a crazy lay”
Such a crazy lay. . .

A smash cut to the bed we share
She climbs right in
And barely makes a whisper

I’ll ask her
What’s she’s doing up
And she’ll reply
“I had to use the pisser”
Then, I’ll kiss her
I kiss her

So, beware of your lover
If she seems so easily bothered
And next time you see a stain on her denim jeans
Remember, that she cheats when you’re asleep.

Here is the song that inspired this poem/song/whatever you'd like to call it

Needles

2011-07-12T02:32:00.006-04:00

*The following story is loosely based on actual events and a dream I had one night.*

Needles

Brandon Dues

It’s just one of those lonely weekend nights. The type of night you wish you had somebody but slowly realize how disastrous a relationship would be at this point in your life. There’s not much to do on night like this. Especially, if you’ve done all there is to do.

8:30 a.m Wake up

9:00 a.m Morning jog

10:30 a.m Shower

11:15 a.m Grocery shop

12:30 p.m Clean up Apartment

1:15 p.m Eat Lunch

2:30 p.m Take a nap

3:30 p.m Organize Book Shelf

4:30 p.m Re-organize Bookshelf

5:00 p.m Workout

6:15 p.m Shower. . . Again

6:45 p.m Read Book

6:50 p.m Video Games

8:45 p.m Nothing

It’s 8:45 p.m. . . . Now what? Restless. Out of options. Nothing to do. Well, nothing. . .

I’ll go see a movie. Preferably a long one. I don’t necessarily care who is in it or what it‘s about.. Just as long as it’s long and takes up most of my night. There’s nothing more depressing than coming back to work with no stories to tell. I almost admire the hedonistic tales of my peers. Something about that that lifestyle is strangely alluring. I’m not that guy, though.

I digress. A movie. I have to find a movie to watch. Perhaps I’ll go to the local multiplex. I always hate going to that place The lobby is always teaming with hormonal preteens. They dress like low-end versions of television personalities, spout off jargon that would make my late English professor’s head spin, and interrupt pivotal emotional thematic film moments with lewd lowest common denominator jokes that were ripped off a sitcom that will inevitably get canceled. I think I’ll pass on the multiplex.

There is the Bistro theater. That may be good option. That way I’ll be able to get a decent meal and enjoy a new movie. . .. Well, on second thought, maybe not. There’s a certain stigma associated with going to the theater alone. I imagine the stigma is magnified for a Bistro theater. Not only are you watching a movie alone, you’re also technically eating by yourself. That’s essentially twice the loneliness. Also, if I do visit the Bistro Theater, I run the risk of running into a co-worker. I’m not exactly sure I want to explain why I‘m eating and watching a film alone on a Saturday night. I don‘t have a problem with it. I just wouldn‘t want to subject an acquaintance to the awkwardness of this situation. I’ll save it for when I have a non-platonic date. Whenever that may be.

At this point I’ve decided I want to go out but I want minimal human interaction. I guess I can go to that art house theater downtown. There showing a film called “Needles”. I’ve never heard of it. It’s probably one of those obscure cult indie films that pretentious film buffs swear they love but secretly hate. The type of movie that people defend vehemently. The type of film that is described as cerebral and mind-bending. The type of film that if by some chance you didn’t like it, it automatically means you didn’t get it or were too stupid to analyze the subtext. Regardless, it seems interesting enough. It’s not like I have anything else to do.

After driving through several backstreet and back alleys, I finally arrive at the downtown parking garage. There is a more direct route but I like taking the back alleys. You see a different side of the city. The theater, aptly named The Fibonacci, is tucked in seediest corner of downtown. It’s a bit of a walk to The Fibonacci from the parking garage. It’s not exactly safe at this time of night but I need the excitement. On my way to the theater I pass the citizens that society has banished from everyday life. Homeless veterans, drug addicts, prostitutes, runaway teens. People that once had dreams and ambitions. People who now have to spend a Saturday night on the cold streets, begging for change. And I thought my life was bad. . .

I arrive at The Fibonacci. The box office employee is a very tall, very lanky individual. He studies me as I awkwardly walk up to the ticket counter. I can see his judgmental eyes leering at me through is thick non-prescription glasses. I guess I’m not wearing enough plaid.

“Hi. Can I have one for “Needles”, please?”

He lets out a loud sigh, boisterously pushes a few buttons on the register, and begrudgedly hands me a slip of paper. I assume this is my ticket.

“That’ll be 9 dollars.”

I hand him my money as polite as possible. I can’t help but wander what I may have done to deserve such a negative response. Did I pronounce the film wrong?

“Have you seen this movie?” I ask

“No. Horror’s not my thing. I only watch student films from NYU.” he says in a very pompous manner

“Really?”

“It’s the only cinema that’s groundbreaking.”

“Have you heard anything about it?”

“I heard it’s mind altering. Kind of of like ‘Jacob’s Ladder’ meets ‘Primer’. Have you heard of those?”

“Actually I have! I own them on DVD”

“DVD. . .figures.”

I thank him. He rolls his eyes.

I make my way into theater. Half of the appeal of a place like this is the fact that is unappealing in every sense, especially compared to today’s standards. The worn down wallpaper hangs loose to reveal the mildew ridden drywall. The air is moist and humid. The sour smell of a recently vacuumed wet rug lingers in the air. At one point, The Fibonacci was a staple of the downtown area. Now, it is an archaic landmark on the verge of being condemned.

I make my way into the theater. The floors are extremely sticky. This is disturbing considering The Fibonacci does not sell concessions. I find a seat that optimizes the acoustics of the auditorium. I sit down. The seat is slightly damp and I can feel the asbestos entering my lungs. That reminds me. My annual check up is soon.

Ironically, I’m completely alone in the theater but I’m oddly fine with this fact. Anytime I’m alone in a theater I feel like I’m at a private screening. .The projector starts abruptly and sounds like I paper clipped a baseball card to the spokes of my bike. The lights dim. Images slowly start the appear on the old blemished screen.

The movie starts almost immediately. To my surprise, the film is in a foreign language with absolutely no subtitles. I laugh at the lack of research I did about this film and just go with it. The film opens with a chair sitting in a room and stays there for a very substantial amount of time. A man enters the room and sits in the chair. He begins spouting off dialogue in a language I don’t understand. As the scene progresses, I feel my self getting tired. I try to stay awake but my eyelids become exponentially heavier. I doze off.

I wake up to the bitter taste of iron. I sit up abruptly not completely sure of my current location. The Fibonacci. I’m at The Fibonacci. I move my tongue around my mouth to investigate the source. My tongue reaches a small metallic bit imbedded in the right side of my mouth. I reach in with my fingers, locate the metallic item in question, pull it out, and place it on my thigh.

I spend the next few minutes studying the six inch needle that was lodged in my gums. A needle A needle? How did a needle get into my mouth? Was it something I ate? It couldn’t have been anybody here? I’m alone. Right?

I get up from the damp chair and make my way up the sticky floors to throw dispose of the needle. On my way, the familiar taste of iron returns. I stick a finger in my mouth. There can’t be another needle in my mouth. There just can’t be. Right? While probing my mouth, I prick my finger on something sharp. I draw my hand back and wince in pain. I look down and see blood trickling from my finger. In a panic, I run to the restroom.

The restroom looks like something out of a torture porn film. The floors are soiled and wet. The smell of urine and custodial neglect radiate throughout the room. I make my way to the mirror that sits above a very filthy sink. The mirror is grimy and very cloudy. I can barely see through the soot. I take my jacket off, dab a small amount of water on it, and clear am section of the mirror. I open my mouth and see the needle I pricked my hand on. I rip a small off of a paper towel, wrap it around two fingers, and attempt to extract the needle.

What the hell is going on? How did all of these needles get into my mouth? Where did they come from? Did someone put them there? Did I put them there?

It’s funny. Anytime something strange or peculiar happens, I always find a way to blame my self. Does that make me a narcissist or just a person with a very masochistic self image?

After several unsuccessful efforts, I finally extract the needle. I place it on the sink. This one is significantly larger than the other. It’s absolutely mind boggling. How did something that large get lodged into my mouth? I’m in such awe that I barely notice the pool of blood filling my mouth. It doesn’t occur to me until I see it splash on the porcelain sink. I spit it out and glance at the wound in the mirror. A river of blood streams from my mouth and onto the mirror. I wipe it off with my jacket. My eyes freeze in horror as I notice two more needles wedged in my mouth. The shock wears off and I start removing the next two needles. As I place the two bloodstained needles on the sink, three more needles appear in my mouth. With tears in my eyes, I pull out the next three. The pain is absolutely unbearable. The blood I’m unable to spit out, accidentally gets swallowed. After the next three are removed, five more appear. When I place those on the sink, eight more appear. Then thirteen. Then Twenty.

My hands and mouth are stained a deep and dark red. My teeth are stained that ugly brown color you find on tissues used to wipe bloody noses. I take out the last needle and wait for more to appear. Suddenly, the bleeding stops. I take a second to put everything into perspective. My mind is in complete shock. I glance at my self in the mirror. Blood covers my hands, mouth, and teeth. My eyes are red. My tear ducts sore. The front of my white oxford shirt is completely soiled with blood, sweat, and tears. I look like the killer in a slasher film. This was a new shirt. I had just bought it yesterday. I count the needles. Each one bigger than the last. Fifty-two in total. Fifty-three if you count the one I threw in the trash. I run water through my mouth to get the bloody taste out of my mouth. I check the mirror one more time to make sure all of the needles are gone. None in sight. My mouth is needle free.

I run some water in the sink and clean my face off. As I’m scrubbing my face, I notice something behind me. I turn around and see a man standing six feet in front of me. A man that looks awfully familiar. A man that appeared in the film I fell asleep on. A man that sat in the chair. A man that spouted off dialogue in a language I didn’t understand. The man creeps towards me in a manner similar to a zombie. With every step, I can feel another needle growing only this one’s different. This needle is in the back of my throat. With each step the needle grows. I try to move but I’m frozen with fear. Fear of what he might do. Fear of what may happen. I feel the needle puncture my carotid artery. I cough up blood and drop to my knees. I can feel the blood filling my lungs.

“Help me!” I gurgle as I place my hand out.

The man says nothing. He only creeps towards me. I try to take out the needle that’s lodged in my throat but my efforts are futile. There’s too much blood. I place my hands around my throat and try to cough up the needle. Nothing. It’s still there but it doesn’t grow. I look up to find the man standing over me. He starts spouting off dialogue but I still don’t understand. I can’t breathe. My vision gets blurry. I fall onto my stomach. Blood pours from my mouth like a geyser. The man places a hand on top of my head and. . . .

“Sir!”

. . . I wake up.

“Sir, you’re film is over. We’re closing up.” a custodian says as he shakes my shoulder.

I take awhile to come to. I feel my throat and probe my mouth with my fingers. I look at my jacket, my shirt, and my hands all at once. I don’t realize how insane I look until I see the look on the custodian’s face.

“Sorry.” .

“How was the show?” he asks

“It was. . . Mind-altering.”

He laughs “Did you enjoy it?”

“I’m not exactly sure. I fell asleep.”

“Well, at least you have story.”

“You know? I do. I do have a story to tell.”

The End

Sailor

2011-07-01T05:48:00.000-04:00

Sailor

by

Brandon Dues

Night

Lonely like a lost child

I sit here and wonder if I’m any different

No direction

No purpose

Consume and be happy

Stay on path

Achieve the goal

I stumble to my room.

Collapse dressed in rags

I think about what was said

Who’s responsible for these antics?

Where did these inappropriate thoughts originate?

No purpose

No direction

Impulse

Inebriation

All just excuses

I doze off

Come to shortly after

The mirror

A phantom stares back at me

Red eyes

Slight smirk

Completely full of himself

A shadow of his former self

All in fun

But where does that lead?
How far will it go?

No future

No direction

No purpose

Where does it end?

Sleep all day

Play all night

“The wicked shall be punished”

But isn’t that all relative

Sex

More Sex

More sex with different people

Death

Past transgressions

Risk

Reward

The dark side

The illusion of confidence

The fallacy of arrogance

“Creativity is currency”

These are the thoughts that I think

This is the life I lead

And

This is how the world ends

Excerpt from "Right of Way"

2011-05-18T17:15:00.003-04:00

This is an excerpt from a short story I'm writing. It's a home invasion thriller called "Right of Way". This is a very early and semi-rough draft of the first chapter.

“Honey, there’s someone outside.” Layla said as she emptied the dishwasher.

“What‘s that?”

“I said there’s a man outside.”

“Who is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, is it one of the neighbors”

“No.”

“Are you sure? You know Alan’s brother is visiting.”

“Yes, I’m sure and it‘s not Alan‘s brother. And of course I know his brother is visiting. I was the one that told you.”

“It’s probably the garbage guy or something.”

“Patrick, it’s 10:00 o’clock. When has the garbage man ever come this late?”

“Lay, no need to get snappy.”

“I’m sorry, babe. This guy is just kind of creeping me out.”

“What’s he doing?”

“That’s the thing. He isn’t doing anything. He’s just standing there. Can you come over here.”

Patrick makes his from the living room to the kitchen..

“How long has he been standing there?”

“I’m not sure. I just noticed him a minute ago. I think he‘s been watching me.”

“I’m sure he’s not. . .Wait, what do you mean he’s been watching you?”

“I mean he’s been watching me.”

“When?”

“The past few weeks. The last time was the other day at the grocery store. Remember when I called you and asked you if it was raining? I didn‘t need to know. I just wanted you on the phone in case something happened”

‘Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to freak you out.”

“Are you sure he’s been watching you, Lay? You have a tendency to get paranoid about things.”

“Yes he is, Patrick! At first I didn’t think anything of it. I just thought he was checking me out or something but then I kept seeing him. I said something to him once.“

“What did you say?”

“He was sitting in the lobby at work and I asked him if I could help with anything. He said he was fine. Then, I asked him if he had an appointment and he said no and just sat there. It was really creepy.”

“That sounds absolutely frightening.”

“I’m serious, Patrick! I called security but he left before they came down. Can you go out and say something to him?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know? Tell him you’re going to beat his ass.”

“Or I can just ask him what he’s doing.”

“Just go out there, Pat. Please.”

Just as Pat was about to return to the living room and completely dismiss Layla‘s accusation, he looked into her eyes. There was something different. Something real. Layla genuinely feared for her life and Pat knew what he had to do.

“Alright. I’ll go say something.”

“Bring a bat or something.”

“Layla, I’m not a barbarian. I’ll just go talk to him.”

“Ok. Be careful. I have a weird feeling about this guy.”

“I will, honey.”

Patrick lightly kissed Layla on the forehead and made his way out of the kitchen. Layla watched attentively as he ventured across the street to the man she thought had been following her for the past few weeks.

Layla took out her phone, programmed ‘911’, and clutched the phone in her palms. Layla always planned ahead. This was strictly a precautionary measure. Layla knew Patrick would be fine, however, there was a sense of dread gnawing at her. She had a terrible feeling something horrible was about to happen.

Across the street, Patrick and the mystery man exchanged words. Layla’s mind raced as she speculated the dialogue of the confrontation. The mystery man walked away and Patrick jogged his way across the street.

“That was it?” Layla thought.

Layla quickly made her way to the front door to meet Patrick and inquire the details of the confrontation.

“Crisis averted.”

“What happened?”

“I went out there and asked what he was doing. He didn’t say anything, so, I told him if he didn’t leave I would call the cops and that’s when he left.”

“Did you ask him why he was following me?”

“No.”

“What the hell, Patrick! That was the whole point of you going out there!”

“I was under the impression the point of me going outside was to see what he was doing. . .”

“That’s bullshit! You’re unbelievable! Way to make your wife feel safe.”

“It never came up. What do you want me to do?”

“Just leave me alone right now.”

“Honey, if you see him again just call the c---”

Patrick and Layla’s argument is interrupted by the doorbell.

“Now who could that be?”

Patrick quickly made his way to the door. Layla followed close behind him. Patrick peered through the peep hole to see who it was.

“Who is it?”

“It’s the guy.”

“Don’t answer it! I’m going to call the cops!”

“Calm down, Layla! Maybe he wants to apologize or explain himself.”

“Patrick, I swear to god if you answer that door.”

“Everything’s going to be fine. I promise.”

The Next Several Days

2011-05-13T16:47:00.001-04:00

The Next Several Days

Brandon Dues

Drag it out

You’re dead

Dragging out

It’s dead

There’s no use

Block out what she said

Tears steam down in puddles from your eyes

You lay awake at night

“Has she changed her mind”

Check the phone

There’s nothing

Check the mail

You’re nothing

Try another time

Before you go to sleep

Climb the cliff

But you know it’s much too steep

Taking back the fights

Admitting that you’re wrong

Breaking down

When you hear her favorite song

The pain is too unbearable

It won’t subside

Lay awake a night

“Will she change her mind?’

Formulate a plot

Switch up all the tactics

Make her believe the same

“Are you thinking something drastic”

Refresh the page

She’s on

Refresh the page

She’s gone

You hate the game

But you love the play along

Take a second

and

Swallow all your pride

4 a.m

“She’ll never change your mind”

Give it up

It’s done

Give her up

She’s fallen

Out of love with

The life you once promised

Take down all the pictures

And

The silly props

Hopes and Dreams inside

Place them in a box

Erase it from your mind

Lay awake

You’re fine

It’s hard to think about

“Has she changed her mind”

Feeling really bad

Spoil last nights fun

Spend the day

Giving back

All her stuff

She looks you in the eyes

You stare into her eyes

“It should come as no surprise”

Tears well up

“I’m sorry”

“But I’ve had enough!”

Hello, Stranger: Brief Encounters with Beautiful Women - "The Opposite Desk"

2011-04-05T11:36:00.002-04:00

The Opposite Desk By Brandon Dues They sat in the library opposite one another. She had seen him walking around campus. He always seemed to run into her at the coffee shop. They knew each other’s name but were never formally introduced. On opposite sides of the same desk, they ignored their mutual attraction. He would find an excuse to walk by her and steal a glance. She would look up from her book and smile when their eyes met. . They both sensed a connection but were too afraid to say or do anything about it. The charade continued throughout the evening. Fake sneezes in hopes of initiating a conversation. Sly flirty smiles shot back and forth. When this failed to entice interaction, each resorted to unorthodox measures. Cracking knuckles. Soft mutterings. Fake laughs. Loud and boisterous yawns. There was a passing moment of brief small talk. Followed by an extended period silence. Defeated, they both retreated to their comfort zones. Nose down. Pencil in hand. Notebook open. They spent the rest of the night hiding behind their respective textbooks pretending to study and searching for ways to further break the ice. The night grew old and it came time for them to leave. Coincidently, they both left at the same time. In an attempt to avoid an awkward situation, they each took different routes to the parking lot. He cursed his shy personality She denounced her timid nature In the parking lot, their eyes met one last time. He waved to her. She waved back. A rush of happiness surged through both of them A smile crept on each of their faces as they entered their vehicles and remained until they reached their respective homes. They both went to bed intoxicated off of the promise of their next meeting.

Thoughts inspired by the night sky, (Thoughts and explanation)

2011-03-14T05:03:00.005-04:00

The night is beautiful and serene

I gaze at the lake and feel it talk back to me

“stay here for awhile and everything will make sense”

I feel like nature is pandering to my every expense

Sitting back nothing matters except the stars and the water

I can hear the ducks telling me that I am more than a martyr

Ignoring these imaginary senses is difficult

I lay my head back down and stare at the moon like a simpleton

It’s amazing how wonder slips into my mood

Wondering if these traits will pass onto my brood and children

Intoxication takes over and I slur my gaze

Stars move up, down, and sideways in a maze but not intelligible

I walk back to the apartment that I’ve made a home

Relieve the liquid beast that seems to always ruin the mood

I can hardly see and make ocean with my urine

I’ll clean it up when I’m less mental

Strip my clothes and collapse in bed of cotton

Naked I venture outside for a second opinion

What I woundn't do for a woman that could act sentimental

My eyes feel like grease has been applied upon them

Sleep feels imminent but I’m trying to stop it

I’m fighting a losing battle

My mind is getting weak

Sleep seems like a good idea and I love the streak

Alcohol and a creative mind are a bad mix

I could go all night on this subject if I had patience

Slipping into an extended rest is a bit ridiculous

Especially when you feel like every one besides you in under arrest

Drunk thoughts speak a sober mind but we know this

I just want to feel like I’ve lived harder than a huntress

Politics doesn't matter

Nor does entertainment

My mind dances on the outskirts

Unlike several painters

I’m growing weak and can’t think

Moving pictures

Eyes half shut

Engulfed by white walls

I’m giving up

Paint a picture in my head

Letting go

Embrace the charade with open arms

I’m in a dream state

Good night to reality

I’m ready for another level

Hallucinate to a dream

Ponder about it in the early morning,

Sex, Success, and people I’ve never seen

I’m mesmerized by the thought of an attractive woman laying next to me.

Waking up, life is different but expected

I venture to the bathroom to which is unexpected

The bad stuff projects out

It was grossly neglected

Starting the day off like nothing ever happened

Memories from a night barely remembered

“I grabbed your ass and hit on your “sister:”?

It seemed so right but I knew it was wrong.

Kiss me like they do in movies but not as long

I’ll deny any wrongdoing as my slumber exits

Through the gift shop

“You’ll like the service”

I wrote this after running up an $81 tab at some dive bar and hanging out with some friends on spring break. Most people would just go home and pass out but I tend to have a ton of thoughts pent up in my mind. The above text is pretty much a stream of consciousness. It is completely unfiltered and I have done minimal editing. What you see is the effect of alcohol, portishead, and a very strange mind.

Cold and Lonely Soul (Lyrics and Explanation)

2011-03-02T11:15:00.005-05:00

Cold and Lonely Soul (a blues song)

Brandon Dues

He's a cold and lonely soul

Only thing he knows

"One day it will get better"

but today he walks alone

His gaze hangs low

an he drags his bones

Family and Friends

just leave him to sulk

He's a cold a lonely soul

Only thing he knows

"One day it will be better

but today I walk alone"

A great big bushy beard

Shirt ain't been washed in weeks

Goes all day

Without even brushin' his teeth

Cold and Lonely soul

Only thing he knows

"Things will never get better

and I'll always walk alone"

Rooms' like a hurricane

Whiskey bottles at peace

His whole damn abode

smells like

spoiled meat

A cold and lonely soul

Only thing he knows

"Things need to get better

because I'm tired of walking alone"

At the picture show

He shows up solo

No longer sad

and he's finally let it go

He was a

Cold and Lonely soul

Only thing he knows

"Today it gets better

and it's okay to walk alone"

"Cold and Lonely Soul" is about a guy going through a rough patch in his life. I wanted to illustrate sort of the mind set one goes through when feeling depressed. There's a period where he's content with how he's feeling because he knows he won't feel this way forever. The sadness just needs to get it out of his system. There is hope for the future. However, when things don't get any better, our central character looses patience and slips further into his depression. There is a point where feeling low becomes sort of old and hope starts to slip in. At this point, the depression is replaced with a sense of doing. He wants to take back his life and actively make things better instead of sitting around and hoping things get better. He wants to make things better and that is where the song ends. I wanted to end the song on that note. The song isn't just about depression and sadness. It's about hope, promise, and self-empowerment as well.

In all honesty, I'm not exactly sure why I wrote these lyrics. The chorus of the song sort of just popped into my head last night and I thought it would be an interesting concept for a story. So, I went to my notebook, brainstormed a few ideas, and came up with the central character and idea. Originally, I was just going to write a story but I was listening to The Black Keys and noticed some similarities. I thought "This would make an interesting blues song" and I re-wrote the story to sort of sound like a blues song.

I am by no means a songwriter or poet or anything like that. I like to write stories. I just thought it would be something fun to try. It was more like a "Yeah I can do that if I wanted to" thing. I had fun writing it. Maybe one day I'll pick up my dust-ridden guitar and create a song out of it.

Gladys, New Doctor Clothes, and a Near Arrest

2011-01-02T23:32:00.002-05:00

Gladys, New Doctor Clothes, and a Near Arrest

Brandon Dues

Burned down the bridge and pissed on the ashes.

I know, I know, that sounds a little bit drastic

I have a propensity for anything dramatic

And on occasion , I get a little spastic

The other day I inadvertently held up traffic

Running down the cross walk in nothing but plastic

This old woman rolled her window down and I asked for some chap stick

The cops came a drew guns that I assume were automatic

“Someone shoot this guy! I think he’s an addict”

I gazed into their eyes and they were hungry for some action

For then on the situation could be described as problematic

I reached for my phone then remembered I left it in the attic

Also, if you recall, I was dressed in cling wrap that was anti-static

I tried to apologize and sound very enthusiastic

“Don’t listen to him! He may be one of those religious fanatics!”

This side of town wasn’t exactly diplomatic

The sight of me naked was probably emblematic

A symbol of everything they saw as “undemocratic”

One of the officers shot and I froze like I saw something graphic

When I caught my bearings, my reaction was almost systematic

I ran and dodged bullets as if I were Mel Gibson in Maverick

Or maybe I’m getting it confused with that classic from Terrence Mallick

I know what your thinking, this story sounds a bit fantastic

But you‘ve got to believe me, the whole scene was inexplicably cinematic

I ducked into an office and met a doctor’s whose oath was Hippocratic

We discussed the weather and his late son who was an asthmatic

I then asked him of a pain I thought was pancreatic

“I can not help you my friend. I’m afraid my discipline is strictly lymphatic”

I bid him adieu and wished him luck on his practice.

“Thank you and please take those clothes next to that beautiful cactus.”

“Gratis?”

“Of course! You couldn’t pay me given your current status”

I walked out and ran into a beautiful woman named Gladys.

I could tell she trained daily on an aerobic apparatus

I told her that my day was nothing short of hapless

Then tried to impress her with my knowledge of a crystal lattice

The expression on her face told me she wasn’t having it

“Sorry. I have a boyfriend that looks like a young Brad Pitt”

“We should keep in touch just in case he turns out to be a prick”

When you meet a gorgeous woman, you take every chance you get

She rolled her eyes but I sensed she was charmed by my wit

She wrote my phone number on the back of an old parking permit.

“If I don’t call you by next week, just wait a little bit.”

I may be wrong but I think our personalities clicked.

Although it was a red flag that she probably couldn’t commit

When I crossed the street there were officers along the strip

I felt pretty bad about earlier and decided to submit

To my surprise, they didn’t throw a fit.

“All we wanted to do was serve you with this judicial writ”

“That guy in the crowd made you officers seem malevolent”

“Anything you heard regard as irrelevant. He was an addict and there was liquor on his scent”

“I had a feeling there was something odd about his slurred accent.”

They explained I had a court date and that I needed to be present

“Honestly, you’ll be fine just as long as you repent”

The group of officers left and apologized for any misstatements.

I waived goodbye and trekked back to my studio apartment.

On my way I reflected on the days events

I’m not one to be such a rebelious malcontent

My criminal record consists one count of writing on wet cement

I made it home and I admit I was utterly spent

I didn’t even confirm my reservations for my camping trip

I made it to my room with my pants completely unzipped

I was startled by the phone, it nearly made it slip

“Hi. It’s Gladys. We met today off of the strip.”

I was so surprised and felt my heart nearly skip

“What happened to young Pitt? Did give you too much lip?”

“No. Worse. He turned out to be kind of a wimp”

“We should go see a movie at that new place with the chips”

“The one next to that old abandoned merchant ship”

“That’s the one and afterwards we could skinny dip.”

She agreed to the date but I had wear something nicely knit

“I hate when a man looks illegitimate”

We talked for about an hour and laughed about how me met

“I hate to cut this short but I have an appointment in the morning that can’t be reset.”

“That’s completely understandable. We’ll have more fun when our time isn’t so pressed.”

After the phone call, I was eager for some rest.

I sat in my bed with the day to assess.

Gladys, new doctor clothes, and a near arrest.

You would have to be insane to be unimpressed

This fantastically strange day was certainly one of the best.

END

Hello, Stranger: Brief Encounters with Beautiful Women - "November Meeting"

2010-12-20T20:02:00.005-05:00

“November Meeting” It had been almost a month since I last saw her. Things didn’t end well. I’m not sure why I suggested we get together but I did. “Why don’t we go grab a coffee or something? Maybe catch up?’ I think the reason I really wanted to meet up was to show her I was fine. I wanted her to see that I was done being sad. That I was over her and that I had moved on. All that completely changed when she walked in. We started with the basic small talk. “How have you been?” “Fine. You?” “I’ve been alright” We said these things but our eyes told a different story. We both could see through each other’s lies. We knew each other better than we knew ourselves. That’s what happens when you make someone your entire world for the better part of five years. As much as both of us hated to admit it, we weren’t fine. We weren’t doing alright. In fact, it was the complete opposite. We had both been miserable. We were miserable but we couldn’t let the other know. I missed her and she missed me but we couldn’t tell each other. We spent about thirty minutes avoiding the elephant in the room. We spoke about the weather, movies we had seen, what we had been up to since we last saw each other. We spoke about everything and nothing. We danced around the subject us. Both of us too afraid to even mention the subject. One of us broke the silence. I admit, I had some bitterness built up. I took some cheap shots. I’m not proud of it but I didn’t care at the time. I wanted to hurt her and I did. I didn’t feel bad until she started gathering her things. “I’m going to leave. . . “ She gathered her things in a frenzy and quickly made her way to the door. I could see her eyes welling up with tears. She was too proud to cry in front of me. I sat there. I thought about what I had said and was immediately embarrassed. It wasn’t my place to say those things. It wasn’t fair for me to go that far. I chased after her. I wanted to apologize. She had made it to her car but had not driven away. She just sat in the drivers seat with tears rolling down her eyes. “Go away! This was a mistake! I should have never come here!” She was right. We shouldn’t have met up. We shouldn’t have reconnected two days prior. We should have just forgotten about each other. Easier said then done. “I’m sorry. I said a lot of shitty things back there. I didn’t mean it. I just wanted you to feel how you made me feel.” She looked at me with tears in her eyes. My heart shattered. She knew she had hurt me. She knew what she had done had completely ruined me. She knew all those things and it killed her. “Whatever you’re feeling, I’m feeling it ten times worse, *******!” She put her head in her hands and began to weep. I put my arms around her and hugged her. We held each other tight. When I went to break the embrace she held on. I looked into her eyes. She looked into mine. At that moment, we both knew. We both knew that what we had was good. We both knew that the break-up took an equal toll on both of us. We were miserable without each other. I leaned in and kissed her. She was reluctant but went with it. The kiss was long and passionate. That kiss said more than any of words ever could. We spent the rest of the evening together. We talked. We laughed. We did everything we used to. That evening we were transported to a time before the break-up. A time before all the problems. A time when we didn’t doubt our feelings for each other. A time when we cared for each other. That evening we were in love. We talked about the subject we had avoided at the coffee shop. We made plans for the future. We set dates. We were going to get back together but it was going to take some time. Part of us knew what we were doing was a bad idea but we didn’t care. We were completely in the moment. When it came time for me to go, I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay in that moment forever. She walked me downstairs. I waived her parents goodbye. “Hopefully, you’ll see more of me around here.” I pet her dog and cats. She walked me to my car. We kissed. I held her tight. When she tried to break away, I pulled her in closer. “Don’t give up on me, *******.” “I never have. I thought I did but I guess I was wrong.” I kissed her on the forehead and drove away. I drove home intoxicated on the promise the future held. Part of me knew there was a possibility that feelings would change in the morning but I didn’t care. I completely threw myself into the idea of “*******and ******”. A few weeks later, she changed her mind. She wasn’t sure about us anymore. She wanted to keep her options open. She didn’t see me in her future anymore. She wasn’t in love with me. She wanted me out of her life. I wasn’t surprised by any of this. That doesn’t mean it hurt any less. In hindsight, I should have kept up those walls. I should have taken everything she said with a grain of salt. I should have kept everything to myself. I shouldn’t have let my guard down. I shouldn’t have told her I still loved her. I should have just let her go. I should have done all of those things but I’m glad I didn’t. That evening gave me something I had not experienced in quite sometime: happiness. In a storm of depression and negativity the time we spent together was a beacon of light. I just wish it would have worked out this time.

Avalanche. . .

2010-11-22T21:10:00.007-05:00

I get lonely. It has never really taken much for me to feel this way. I'm not entirely sure why. Most of the time it just creeps up on me. The feeling stays there for hours. When I feel this way anything I try to do normally just makes things worse. It reminds me that I am alone.

I enjoy watching movies so sometimes I'll go out to the movies to feel better and take my mind off of things. That normally helps a little bit, however, if a big party comes in, the lonliness creeps in again.

I'm not depressed. I've always kept to myself for the most part, and I usually don't have a problem with it. Being alone all the time can really take a toll on one's demeanor. It just makes me sad sometimes. I just wish I had someone to talk to every now and then. Someone to hang out with when I'm bored. Someone to discuss film or video games with. I don't really have that anymore. I don't have a girlfriend anymore, my dad lives in Vero, most of my close friends have moved away, and my sister and mom are busy most of the time. I try to make new friends but it's always been hard for me to do that. Most weekends consist of me sitting at home, watching a movie, wishing someone would call me to see how I'm doing.

The bottom line is this:

I miss hanging out with my friends.

I miss my family being together.

and

I miss having her in my life

-"Remain calm while rescue makes plans"

It's Over now

2010-10-22T15:35:00.003-04:00

This is it.

The straw that broke the camel's back.

I'm walking away from you.

I can't promise I won't look back but I'm walking away.

I'm done and I'm tired.

I thought we could be friends

I thought we could be civil

I fought for us

It took awhile

But

I realized

The person I was fighting for no longer exists.

The person I fell in love with died a long time ago.

I don't know who you are anymore.

and

I don't want to know what you've become.

I could sit here and try to figure out when it went wrong.

When you changed.

When I changed.

But

It doesn't matter

All that matters is that it's over

We can't be together

We can't be friends

We can't be around each other

It will always be like this and it will never get better

I still care about you and part of me may still even be in love with you

And

As much as you deny it

I know you feel the same

But

We shouldn't kid ourselves

You were right

It's a shame it has to be this way

You finally got your wish

A year ago, I wanted to marry you

A month ago, I just wanted to be around you

Today, I can't even look at you

I wish it ended on better terms

Goodbye

I hope you find what you're looking for

and

I hope you find yourself

- Today + Tomorrow = Never

Time

2010-10-19T16:51:00.002-04:00

Time is slowly running out

It is

slooooooooowly

away

Hours have become minutes

Minutes have become seconds

You wake up

Abandon you're comfort zone

and before you know it

It's time to return

Days run together

but nobody seems to notice

. . . or care . . .

Dreams no longer have meaning

Just random scenes spliced together

Monday, Thursday, Saturday and Monday again

"That was yesterday"

2010-10-19T16:15:00.001-04:00

(Testing)I am testing something out

"Chai Latte": The story behind the concept.

2010-10-13T01:50:00.000-04:00

The basic concept of “Chai Latte” comes from the idea of minor characters in our lives and the awkwardness that occurs when trying to develop the acquaintanceship into something more.

These people are all around us. You know, that guy that was in your class two semesters ago that you see around campus all the time. The cute girl that always seems to catch you staring at her in the library. The barista that knows what you’re going to order before you get to the register. The server that always seems to be flirting with you. The friend of a friend of a friend you only see at parties.

“How should I deal with this person? Should I say hi? Should I engage in small talk? What do I say when I see them outside of their natural habitat? What do I do when I want to get to know them?”

This is the inner monologue that occurs anytime we interact with these people. Why is it sometimes so hard to talk to people we see everyday? What prevents us from just going for it?

The idea for this story came to me during a late night study session. It was 2:00 am and a very cute girl sits at the computer next to me. I literally see this girl everywhere. We exchange glances from time to time and even smile at each other every now and again but it doesn’t go past that. It’s kind of weird when you think about it. We are comfortable enough to glance at each other, (sometimes even nod hello) and smile from time to time but not comfortable enough to say anything. The entire time while she is sitting next to me I kept saying to myself “Man, I should say something to her” and with that line we begin the story.

The central plot of Chai Latte will focus on a male college student’s inner struggle to muster up enough courage to speak to a woman he “kind of sort of knows”.

As stated above it will be inspired by (not based upon) what happened that night at the library. I hope to finish this story soon. I’m using this project as sort of a springboard for a more ambitious project I plan to finish later.

Single.Alone.Content

2010-10-05T13:30:00.002-04:00

I, Brandon Dues, am now single.

It's a very weird feeling.

I haven't been single since high school.

For all of my adult life I've only been with one person.

I don't know if that's a good or bad thing.

I took the break-up pretty hard.

Boy, was I a mess.

I didn't sleep or eat.

I spent most of the time blaming myself for something that wasn't even my fault.

It wasn't anyone's fault, really.

People drift.

Feelings change.

That's life.

It took a few days but I eventually felt better.

It took some time but when it did happen it was almost instantaneous.

Ironically, it was a lonely night at Barnes and Noble that did it. (As well as a long talk with my sister)

I spent the entire evening alone reading and actually enjoyed myself.

Afterwards, I went home and watched a movie.

It wasn't very eventful but I enjoyed myself.

For the first time since the break-up, I felt like things were going to be ok.

I felt that I could be happy again.

I let go.

The instant I let go, a world of possibilities became apparent.

Then, I felt relief.

Nothing was tying me down.

I was free.

And as much as I hate to admit it, she was right.

This wasn't all bad.

I wasn't always going to feel this way.

We are on different paths.

We're going to be ok.

I'm going to be ok.

I still miss her every now and then.

I still miss being her everything.

I still get angry and bitter about things.

But. . .

It doesn't last long.

I'm not one to hold grudges.

And. . .

When we were together, it was great.

We're still friends.

We still hang out.

It's just different.

Really different.

It's ok though

I've accepted it.

I'm cool with it.

Single and Alone

but

Content