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Saturday, June 17, 2006
The Continuous Adventures of Dumb Fuck... Episode I
So a while back, I wanted to write a character that I would never make into a film, or utilize in a story. The character would just be my creative outlet to write when I felt the need to write, but didn't want to do any work. So I created Dumb Fuck. I've only done a couple episodes, over the last couple years, but I figure this is a nice place to share them with you.
Enjoy "The Continuous Adventures of Dumb Fuck - Dumb Fuck Becomes a Super Hero"
It's not his fault of course, he thought it was the only real thing he got from his father. Think back as far as you can remember. Do you remember your first dream? Do you remember the first time you ever ate strained peas? Dumb Fuck doesn't. But he does have a vague, broken recollection of his father. Basically a man that looks like he does now. A muddled memory of his father grabbing him by his four year old neck. He would've done it by the hair but his father kept him shaved. "Have no fucking time to deal with your head and the goddamn shampoo!" He used to say. Once he had a good grip, the kind that left bruises and shallow imprints, he slammed him head first against the aluminum screen door of the church. "Get your silly ass in their Dumb Fuck!" His dad wasn't that creative, he's seen enough movies to figure out that he could leave his kid at a church, but didn't realize that a Monday night, when the church is closed, usually isn't the best time. When the kid came to his senses he sat down at the steps, bleeding from his forehead. The priest saw him the next morning, shivering. "Are you okay son? What's your name?" He stares up at him squinting through the dried blood on his head. "My name's Dumb Fuck." Dumb Fuck was later told why his father might have called him that. Dumb Fuck has a severe memory problem. A form of amnesia that he can't quite remember the name of. It comes to him spontaneously, sometimes he'd go a month without his memory being virtually wiped clean, sometimes only a day. He'd never forget everything. He still knew how to tie his shoe, wipe his ass, fuck (though he doesn't know how often), etc. And he always remembered his name, at least the one his father gave him. The doctors; the ones the halfway house that he grew up in could afford anyway, said that he was functional enough to not be hospitalized. It didn't matter to Dumb Fuck, he just wanted to keep his name. They begged and pleaded with Dumb Fuck, but eventually they gave in. Dumb Fuck has a social security card, a driver's license, several years ago Publisher's Clearing House wrote saying that "Dumb Fuck might be the proud winner of one million dollars." It didn't pan out. Dumb Fuck has a book. A little black book that he keeps next to his bed table. A sticker on the front reads, "Computer Geek Inside". A joke that he has long forgotten. In the first page an inscription saying, "Write what's important in here so you won't forget who you are. And leave the book at home so you don't lose it. Best Wishes, Father Alvarenga." The several pages following are of basic things. The fact that he's half black, a reminder that he receives time and time again when he tries to get a cab. His memory loss, where he lives, a small apartment furnished sparsely with every single IKEA necessity that he could barely afford. His name, with "no joke" written underneath it. Several job references with reminders of when he was fired and when he was hired... The last entry of his jobs, working at Shakey's Pizza. Some of the pages in his book are worn, some oddly colored with a clear rusty stain. These pages are the odd ones. There isn't a lot written on them, but what is written is disturbing to him, or at least they would be if he could remember why they're there. On one of these oddly red pages is written in sporadic script, "You have a gun. Either on you or under the pillow." Several pages further he wrote, "You have a bullet proof vest, wear it." It usually hangs on the bed post, with three, half inch deep dents. One on the lower back, and the other two on the chest. Dumb Fuck assumes that he acquired the vest and gun when he was working security at a mall. Why it has a silencer, he never bothered to ask. Why he wears the vest and the gun still, he figures that working at Shakey's at night can be hazardous. Dumb Fuck sits in front of the Radio Shack in his neighborhood. They leave the T.V.'s on with sound at night, and since he doesn't have one at his place, it's cheaper than going to the movies. Plus a bench has been conveniently erected there in memory of some old lady who happened to die right on that very spot. People say that she was watching a Britney Spears video when she died. She apparently was an old lesbian woman, that found the young teen pop star so hot, she had an orgasm so intense that she had a stroke and died. That's why the manager of the Radio Shack has kept it on the news since then. Dumb Fuck fingers his nearly finished mocha latte as he watches his third commercial break, for coming up next on the news, "Why Coffee drinks are good for you." Dumb Fuck's ears are perked when he hears the fast paced thumping of little feet on the pavement. A young boy runs up to Dumb Fuck. He sits right next to him looking down at the street. The young boy, no more than thirteen years old, looks up at Dumb Fuck out of breath. "Hey." He struggles to say. Dumb Fuck, paying little attention to the young boy, answers back. "Hey." All of a sudden a quickly paced thudding sound, heavier than the first comes quickly up to the bench. The young boy gets up standing to the side of Dumb Fuck, as Dumb Fuck looks up to his left where the young boy came from, and sees a man out of breath, coming at them. "Thought you could out run me you little shit!" He stammers, as he comes to a halt. He picks up his pants, though they were well below his waist to begin with, running had made them drop to his knees. "You better give me my fucking money!" He continues, "Or they're going to have to put another bench right next to that old, gay, white bitch's!" The young boy reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of money that could not add up to more than seventy-five dollars. "This is my momma's money fool." The young boy puts it back into his pocket. "That slutty ass ho wasn't worth the fuck." The man snickers. "She didn't even go down on a nigga!" "Fuck You" The boy moves towards the man. The man reaches into his half fallen pants. "Nah little man! Fuck you!" He pulls out a gun and points it at the young boy. "Can you guys keep it down." Dumb Fuck looks up at the both of them. "Who the fuck is this, your daddy?" "Nah bitch!" The little boy replies, "That's your momma's pimp." "I don't care who the fuck you are nigga, but this between me and this little shit." By this time Dumb Fuck has already missed the coffee segment. He puts his finished mocha down and stands up in front of the young boy. "Put the gun down.", says Dumb Fuck. "Shit, was going to shoot you anyway." The man shoots Dumb Fuck twice in the chest. He lowers his gun and smiles. His smile quickly fades as Dumb Fuck didn't fall. The man lifts the gun once again, but before he could take aim, Dumb Fuck reaches into his jacket, pulls out his gun, and shoots the man at the trigger guard. His finger explodes into fragments metal and flesh. The man, in shock of his recently lost finger stares into the gaping hole where his index used to be. He has little time to look at his assailant when Dumb Fuck pulls the trigger again. The bullet, so hot from the massive speed, barely reaches the man's eye as the intense heat and sonic blast ruptures it. The bullet quickly passes through the liquefied eye ball bag, and easily slides into the socket. A spray of clear liquid mixed with blood and brain matter rupture through the man's head. Small pieces of bone embed on the bullet as it hits and halts on a stop sign about 15 feet away. The man falls to his knees and then to his face breaking his knee caps and then his cheek bone in the process. Dumb Fuck puts his gun away and turns to the young boy. The young boy's mouth gaped open at the incident he just witnessed. Boyz in the Hood was never this graphic, he thought to himself. He quickly looks up at Dumb Fuck, expecting to see blood, but he sees nothing. His instincts get the better of him, and running away seems like a good option. "Thanks man." The young boy says as he collects himself. "No problem." Says Dumb Fuck. "No I mean it, thanks." The young boy pats him on the back as he starts to run off. At that moment, Dumb Fuck's head swims. His memory lost. Dumb Fuck sees the young boy running off, the young boy turns one more time to Dumb Fuck. "You're a fucking Super Hero!" The young boy runs out of sight. Dumb Fuck looks at the young boy fading off. And to his amazement, he sees the body for the first time (sort of) laying at his feet. Dumb Fuck, quite dazed begins to walk off. Habit; and later finding his wallet in his pocket, get him to his place several hours later. Dumb Fuck takes off his jacket, pays no attention to the thud that it makes on the table. Takes his shirt off and his bullet proof vest, now with five dents, and goes to sit at the bed. Dumb Fuck sees his book, and begins to read... After several hours he picks up a pen. He opens to the next page with an open line and begins to write. "You're a Super Hero."