Yes, Virginia, I do have deleted alternate scenes.
I had a different intro in mind for the ghost of Christmas present - then I realized that this was not Caitlin Fairchild, this was Abbey Chase in the bathtub from Danger Girl. So , I started over, but I kept this set-up. Enjoy!
I heard a noise in the bathroom. Water splashing...
My bathroom was no longer just a bathroom - it had become a luxurious, glamorous, magnificent marble and gold palatial bath, offering a 360 degree panorama of Aspen's mountains at sunset. This explosion of warm orange, amber and violet color made this palace rich and...where the heck am I?
Showing posts with label Gen 13. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gen 13. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Monday, December 19, 2011
A Comic Book Rehab Carol - Part 6
"Change..."
A draft made the window blind slam the window with such a clatter, I had awakened to see what was the matter. I had slept on the couch, fully-clothed and with cap, as if I had not taken a long winters nap.
I opened the window and shouted out into the streets, "What day is this?"
An old woman walking her toy dog replied, "huh?"
Never mind, I thought, returning to my couch. I found the remote, turned on the tv, searched the program guide, and what did I see?
December 23.
I had not missed it! Well, actually, I missed the 21st, which was the day the new books arrived at the comic shop, but that means I had not missed the 28th! There was time! Time to check for holiday sales and new comics, if any! And I will be looking forward to it this time! For this time, I know the spirits will have a surprise in store for me...
You see, that night I spent was not a mere fool's errand - I had made the universe of comics and the comic book marketplace a BETTER place. The spirits took stock of the error in their ways and change would trickle down from within.
And then they will come back. Not today right away, but in the days, months and years ahead, a new joy will be found in the now-happy medium, one built on solid entertainment, honesty, and care.
And Big Boobs, of course.
And as I joined the grinning old man wearing enormous sunglasses in riding with him in his Ferrari to enjoy the fine Burbank sunset that day, we shouted,
"Merry Christmas to all! Excelsior everyone!"
THE END
A draft made the window blind slam the window with such a clatter, I had awakened to see what was the matter. I had slept on the couch, fully-clothed and with cap, as if I had not taken a long winters nap.
I opened the window and shouted out into the streets, "What day is this?"
An old woman walking her toy dog replied, "huh?"
Never mind, I thought, returning to my couch. I found the remote, turned on the tv, searched the program guide, and what did I see?
December 23.
I had not missed it! Well, actually, I missed the 21st, which was the day the new books arrived at the comic shop, but that means I had not missed the 28th! There was time! Time to check for holiday sales and new comics, if any! And I will be looking forward to it this time! For this time, I know the spirits will have a surprise in store for me...
You see, that night I spent was not a mere fool's errand - I had made the universe of comics and the comic book marketplace a BETTER place. The spirits took stock of the error in their ways and change would trickle down from within.
And then they will come back. Not today right away, but in the days, months and years ahead, a new joy will be found in the now-happy medium, one built on solid entertainment, honesty, and care.
And Big Boobs, of course.
And as I joined the grinning old man wearing enormous sunglasses in riding with him in his Ferrari to enjoy the fine Burbank sunset that day, we shouted,
"Merry Christmas to all! Excelsior everyone!"
THE END
Friday, December 9, 2011
A Comic Book Rehab Carol - Part. 3
La, da, dee, da, da, da, da, daa - heaven must be missing an angel ... look what Santa left under the tree for me!
Lying on her stomach naked - with a long, long, wide red ribbon wrapped around the naughty bits - a tall, voluptuous, statuesque, red and gold highlight-haired goddess, with a perfect come over here stare, eyeing me up and down as I did likewise.
"There must be an angel playing with my heart."
She giggled. "You're sweet. But there's another song - 'Too Much of Heaven'. Do you know it?"
The voice did not go with the body - it was that of a haughty, insecure introvert, not an amazon extrovert - but it didn't turn me off. "Eiffel 65 - Europop. I used to have the album. What's your name?"
"Ghost of Christmas Present. I like to use code names, though. I'll be Number One and you can be ... Number 6. I had hoped you wouldn't mind if I unwrapped a little early, but I kept the bow on. You can keep the wrapper." She tossed a piece of cloth to me and I caught it. It was a green and purple pleather one piece, with a "13" insignia stitched along the shoulders on both sides. I recognized her.
"My reputation and representation have been as good as stale egg nog for a long time, but I feel like trying again. Want to come with me?"
"You don't need to ask."
She smiled. "Great! Wrap me up."
She stood up and instructed me to grab layers and layers of ribbon that she had laid on top of and wrap them around her body until I could tie a large, comfortable bow across her bosom. The ribbon had blocked my view. When I finished, I found we had transported to another place - a busy comic shop.
She waved her arm across the crowd in the store. "Look at this crowd. They're here for a sale - all items in the shop up to 40% off. Do you know what this is?"
"Well, 40% off a four dollar comic book is -,"
"Is sad. These people don't come here every week. The stuff is not really in high demand, the supply is low to create demand, then the store has a sneaky sales gimmick to balance the profit."
"Comic shops always had sales - like 50-cent bins. Publishers always had gimmicks, like relaunches and re numberings."
She frowned. "50-cent comics - plus tax, muddled relaunches and numbers games...Look at that."
She pointed at a comic - Red Hood and The New Outlaws. "I can't believe people fussing over this lime-eyed Oompa Loompa and her teardrop-perfect -,"
"Spirit, why are we here?"
She snapped out of her funk, but her expression did not change. "If these shadows go unchanged, I see profitable drinking pubs where many comic shops once stood."
"But...that means...this medium will...die?"
The spirit seemed distracted by a particular comic on the shelf with the new books.
"Spirit? Number One? Cait -,"
"Look, a white sketch cover variant! There wasn't time for me to have one! But I can change that! I'll do a self-portrait! That'll keep me out of the half-dollar bins for sure! I've got the confidence now! No contrived rips or tears this time! Unwrap me and wish me luck!"
I did what she asked, and no sooner did her nude form fade out and appear on that blank cover...the whole setting began to go out of focus again.
"Good luck, Caitlin."
To be continued...
Lying on her stomach naked - with a long, long, wide red ribbon wrapped around the naughty bits - a tall, voluptuous, statuesque, red and gold highlight-haired goddess, with a perfect come over here stare, eyeing me up and down as I did likewise.
"There must be an angel playing with my heart."
She giggled. "You're sweet. But there's another song - 'Too Much of Heaven'. Do you know it?"
The voice did not go with the body - it was that of a haughty, insecure introvert, not an amazon extrovert - but it didn't turn me off. "Eiffel 65 - Europop. I used to have the album. What's your name?"
"Ghost of Christmas Present. I like to use code names, though. I'll be Number One and you can be ... Number 6. I had hoped you wouldn't mind if I unwrapped a little early, but I kept the bow on. You can keep the wrapper." She tossed a piece of cloth to me and I caught it. It was a green and purple pleather one piece, with a "13" insignia stitched along the shoulders on both sides. I recognized her.
"My reputation and representation have been as good as stale egg nog for a long time, but I feel like trying again. Want to come with me?"
"You don't need to ask."
She smiled. "Great! Wrap me up."
She stood up and instructed me to grab layers and layers of ribbon that she had laid on top of and wrap them around her body until I could tie a large, comfortable bow across her bosom. The ribbon had blocked my view. When I finished, I found we had transported to another place - a busy comic shop.
She waved her arm across the crowd in the store. "Look at this crowd. They're here for a sale - all items in the shop up to 40% off. Do you know what this is?"
"Well, 40% off a four dollar comic book is -,"
"Is sad. These people don't come here every week. The stuff is not really in high demand, the supply is low to create demand, then the store has a sneaky sales gimmick to balance the profit."
"Comic shops always had sales - like 50-cent bins. Publishers always had gimmicks, like relaunches and re numberings."
She frowned. "50-cent comics - plus tax, muddled relaunches and numbers games...Look at that."
She pointed at a comic - Red Hood and The New Outlaws. "I can't believe people fussing over this lime-eyed Oompa Loompa and her teardrop-perfect -,"
"Spirit, why are we here?"
She snapped out of her funk, but her expression did not change. "If these shadows go unchanged, I see profitable drinking pubs where many comic shops once stood."
"But...that means...this medium will...die?"
The spirit seemed distracted by a particular comic on the shelf with the new books.
"Spirit? Number One? Cait -,"
"Look, a white sketch cover variant! There wasn't time for me to have one! But I can change that! I'll do a self-portrait! That'll keep me out of the half-dollar bins for sure! I've got the confidence now! No contrived rips or tears this time! Unwrap me and wish me luck!"
I did what she asked, and no sooner did her nude form fade out and appear on that blank cover...the whole setting began to go out of focus again.
"Good luck, Caitlin."
To be continued...
Monday, December 5, 2011
A Comic Book Rehab Carol - Pt. 1
It was a very unseasonably warm night in December. I had turned my home into a counting house - for counting comics. I was tweeting about how my doorbell looked like an old man wearing sunglasses. I was just about to tweet a joke about stoking the fireplace with an unread stack of Gen 13's and DV8's when I heard a clatter of chains and an eerie draft entered the livingroom. The draft had the smell of browned comic book pages and Old Spice...an apparition faded into view...
"A proton pack! A proton pack! My kingdom for a proton pack!," I howled.
"Face front and at ease, true believer."
I realized who I was looking at, or who the apparition had taken the form of - Stan. Stan "The Man". He was covered with mildewed patches labeled, "Pow", "Stan Lee Media", "The Governator", "Ravage 2009", "Stripperella", "Just Imagine", "NFL Superpro", "The 7th Portal", "Lightspeed", and "Mosaic".
"Do you remember how I looked when I was young and looked like Bea Arthur's husband on Maude?"
"Yes, I do. You know, if you were to watch that show and Jon Pertwee's Doctor Who back-to-back, you wouldn't know the difference."
"Hmmph...Odin will get you for that one, effendi."
"You think I'm hindu?"
"It's just an expression."
"Oh, sorry. Go right ahead."
"Do you remember when I presided over the wedding of Spider-Man and Mary Jane Watson at Shea Stadium and wished them a long and happy marriage?"
"Oh, yeah, sure - and when that marriage ended, you said that 'change is good' or something or other...who lives to keep track of quotes, anyway?"
"Silence!...Do you remember when I hosted Who Wants To Be A Superhero?"
"Yes,...all those poor, deluded, misguided fools..."
"That's enough! Listen - I'm here to warn you! You are doomed into wearing more patches than I! You may even end up as something much more horrendous - an Autopen!"
"What do you want me to do?"
"You will be visited tonight by three spirits. Listen to them, learn from them - or you may wind up trolling the halls of next year's Comic Con in ill-fitting karate gi and claiming to be a Jedi Knight."
"You can tear up my ticket right now."
"Oh, no, just wait...wait for them. Believe that, true believer. Believe that."
"Isn't there anything you could teach me?"
"Stay away from Brand Ecch. Excelsior!"
He faded away...
To be continued...
"A proton pack! A proton pack! My kingdom for a proton pack!," I howled.
"Face front and at ease, true believer."
I realized who I was looking at, or who the apparition had taken the form of - Stan. Stan "The Man". He was covered with mildewed patches labeled, "Pow", "Stan Lee Media", "The Governator", "Ravage 2009", "Stripperella", "Just Imagine", "NFL Superpro", "The 7th Portal", "Lightspeed", and "Mosaic".
"Do you remember how I looked when I was young and looked like Bea Arthur's husband on Maude?"
"Yes, I do. You know, if you were to watch that show and Jon Pertwee's Doctor Who back-to-back, you wouldn't know the difference."
"Hmmph...Odin will get you for that one, effendi."
"You think I'm hindu?"
"It's just an expression."
"Oh, sorry. Go right ahead."
"Do you remember when I presided over the wedding of Spider-Man and Mary Jane Watson at Shea Stadium and wished them a long and happy marriage?"
"Oh, yeah, sure - and when that marriage ended, you said that 'change is good' or something or other...who lives to keep track of quotes, anyway?"
"Silence!...Do you remember when I hosted Who Wants To Be A Superhero?"
"Yes,...all those poor, deluded, misguided fools..."
"That's enough! Listen - I'm here to warn you! You are doomed into wearing more patches than I! You may even end up as something much more horrendous - an Autopen!"
"What do you want me to do?"
"You will be visited tonight by three spirits. Listen to them, learn from them - or you may wind up trolling the halls of next year's Comic Con in ill-fitting karate gi and claiming to be a Jedi Knight."
"You can tear up my ticket right now."
"Oh, no, just wait...wait for them. Believe that, true believer. Believe that."
"Isn't there anything you could teach me?"
"Stay away from Brand Ecch. Excelsior!"
He faded away...
To be continued...
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