The transcribed ramblings of the continuous tales of a filmmaker. Brought to you by, Internet!
Saturday, June 17, 2006
The Continuous Adventures of Dumb Fuck... Episode II
Another installment of...
"The Continuous Adventures of Dumb Fuck - Dumb Fuck Gets A Costume"
A congealed, almost porous substance, pounded flat against hard wood. Sounds of wet flesh smacked against hard glass. He tosses a white powder against it. The sounds are no longer wet. A red, richly thick liquid, runs all over... It seeps in slightly. It spreads to the very edges, like lava flow, then stops. Cheese is tossed on it, along with slices of linguica, pineapple, and finally jalapenos. Dumb Fuck always makes a pizza for himself near the end of his shift. The boss doesn't mind, and most people don't come in this late at night. He slides it into the oven and pulls the steel doors shut. He strains a bit as he recoils. He lifts his shirt to see if his bandages are ripped, he pulls back his bulletproof vest and reveals bruises from his three cracked ribs. It's been two weeks since Dumb Fuck learned he was a super hero. And it's been four days since he last tried to figure out how exactly he is a super hero. So far he's got cracked ribs from jumping off a chair to see if he can fly, a nice little cut on his forearm from a stab wound he gave himself to see if he was impervious, and a black eye from his coworker that he asked to be slapped by, just to make sure that the knife cut wasn't a fluke from his super human strength (which, he knows now that he doesn't have). Dumb Fuck hasn't given up, but he will try to use a little more tact in his next experiments. His coworker comes in from the back room as he tucks his shirt back in, his bandages are fine.
"D. F.?" She says walking in with a barrel of sauce, "Is you're face still hurting?" Dumb Fuck looks at her. A beautiful young girl in her mid-twenties. Her vibrantly red hair tied up in a bun, so as not to get any 'pizza guts' as she says, in it. Her eyes, a light shade of brown, like the bottom of a soft flowing stream, when the sun hits it just right. The fibers of her eyes are so tightly woven that you could stare for hours, and never make them out. Dumb Fuck can never get enough of them. "I'm fine Sheby. Just getting my pizza ready." "You know, I would have never hit you, but I couldn't pass that up." "It's cool Sheby." "I mean a Britney Spears' DVD!" "Yeah, it was my pleasure." "It even had the one when she performed in that Elvis suit..." "Sheby!" He interrupts. "I really didn't want it." "By the way?" She says obliviously, "I've been meaning to ask you, why do you call me that?" "What? Sheby?" "Yeah, it's not like it bothers me or anything, I think it's cute, but everyone else calls me Shibana. You're the only one who's ever given me a nickname." "Well, you call me D.F.?" "Can't call you Dumb Fuck in front of the customers, right? At least not without an explanation, or an apology." "I don't know why I call you that, but if it bothers you..." "No not at all, I like it, just curious is all." Just then, the door bursts open. They topple off their hinges from the force. Four men walk in, stepping on the doors as they enter. The last one jumps over the doors. "God Damn Jerry! You fucked up those doors!" He says. "Don't give me no shit Larry!", says Jerry, "I'm not in the mood." Larry, Jerry, Gary, and Harry. Once Lawrence, Jeremiah, Garibald, and Harold. These four middle aged men, have all quit their jobs as sales representatives at their respective "Dot Com" companies, to pursue a dream of reckless abandonment. They all cashed in their 401K's to buy each of them a Harley Davidson Motorcycle, a bowie knife each (compliments of Harry who watches "The Knives Collectors Show" on the Home Shopping Network), and cool zippo lighters (even though Larry doesn't smoke). They all have on leather in some way. Larry has on leather pants, a little tight for him and they make a lot of noise when he walks. He also has on a leather hat, the kind that Indiana Jones wears, except all black. Gary has on a leather vest, he saw it once in a movie, he thought it was cool. Harry has on leather forearm guards, he saw them in a movie as well. And finally, Jerry has a leather trench coat, he doesn't wear it when he rides, however. He doesn't want to ruin it, so he folds it up, carefully, and tucks it away in his bike compartment, he only takes it out when he is going inside somewhere, but this time he has forgotten it. They haven't really committed any serious crimes, mostly misdemeanors. Jerry is the only one who actually carries a gun. They haven't really used it yet, they pointed at a young Asian man once and told him to 'Go back to China you fucking gook!" The young man was going to tell them that he's Filipino, not Chinese. Also, that gook is a ethnic slur for Vietnamese people, but they rode off on their motorcycles before he got a chance to say anything. Dumb Fuck comes running in from around the counter, followed closely by Shibana. Jerry sees them. "Damn boy." Jerry says to Dumb Fuck, "Fucking doors must be old as hell, nearly got us killed." A feeling comes over Dumb Fuck, something familiar and normal. "That's okay sir," Dumb Fuck says apologetically, "We'll get that fixed." "In the meantime," continues Jerry, "Why don't you fix us up with two pitchers of beer before we order our pizza." "No problem sir." Dumb Fuck turns away as the four men sit at the table. He takes Sheby by the arm. "Take their order and be really cool about it, no long talks, they're not the nicest of people." Sheby looks at them, and then to Dumb Fuck. "Okay, no problem." Dumb Fuck walks back as Sheby goes to take their order. "Hi, how are you?" No answer from any of them. "You guys came right on time, we were just about to close." "Well you're a cute one ain't ya?" Larry leans back looking at the "too young for him, so it feels oh so right" young lady. Sheby smiles graciously. "What would you like?" "What do you recommend?" Says Harry, the only one actually looking at the menu. "We'll have a ultimate meat meat pizza, which has every single meat that we have..." "No, I'm trying to cut back on eating too much meat." Interrupts Larry. "God Damn it Larry!" Harry puts down the menu. "Every fucking place we go to you got to watch your fucking meat intake." "What? I've been trying to lose weight, that's all?" "You have been a fucking but-plug about that shit, Larry." Says Gary. Larry leans towards Gary. "I can't fit into these pants anymore, Gary. They're getting tight, plus every time I sweat, they seem to shrink." Harry's eyes light up. "Hey did you ever see that episode of Friends when Ross bought leather pants and he couldn't get into them?" "That was Alley McBeal." Says Gary assuredly. "No I think he's right," says Larry, "It was Friends." "Are you sure?" Gary says. Jerry, all of a sudden, slams his hand on the table. "Are you fucking femmes done?" The other three fall silent. "Look, Red." He says to Sheby, "We'll have an extra large pizza, with linguica, jalapenos, and pineapples." Larry looks at Jerry worriedly. "But..." "You can pick it off Larry." Jerry leans back in his chair. Sheby jots down the order, already bored with the conversation. "Will that be all?" "I guess so." Says Larry disappointingly. "Okay, It'll be a couple minutes." As Sheby starts to walk off, Jerry stops her. "Hey, that boy ain't going to make the pizza, is he?" "Who, D.F." Sheby says curiously, "No he just handles the register, I make the pizzas at night." Jerry turns to the other three. "Good, didn't want that nigger touching my food." Jerry laughs loudly. The other three turn their heads a bit, faking their chuckles. Sheby, a little surprised, tries to lighten, the all of a sudden sullen mood. "Well," she says, "He's half white actually." "Hey!" Jerry says sternly, "A nigger is a nigger is a nigger. And that's that. No matter how white you try to make him, he still looks like shit to me." Jerry laughs again, this time alone. The other three look at each other. Memories of sitting at a cubicle discussing their online stock options with their brokers, while sending forwards of the latest Osama Bin Laden getting fucked in the ass by a goat in the Tora Bora caves pic; all of a sudden become very fond. "Well. alrighty then." Harry says trying to break the tension. "I'll get your order sir." Sheby, with no more to say, walks to the back. She walks to Dumb Fuck as he fills the last pitcher of beer. She lays down the order next to him as she reaches for the dough in silence. "Well, I could have done without the Jim Carrey reference, among other things." "Hey!" Dumb Fuck says amusingly as he looks at the order. "They ordered the same thing I like." "Yeah they did." Sheby says softly. "They got good taste." Dumb Fuck says nodding his head. Sheby looks at him. "D.F., they called you the "N" word." Dumb Fuck looks puzzled. "What's the "N" word?" "Oh come on, you couldn't have forgotten that?" "Noodle Dick?" Sheby looks at him shockingly. "No!" "Well good, cause I could have whipped it out for them if they really wanted to..." "They called you nigger!" "Oh, that "N" word." Dumb Fuck stops the spout as the pitcher fills. "Well, there's no accounting for taste." He grabs the other pitcher and motions to go out. "You're not planning on going out there are you?" "Look Sheby, it's hard enough for me to remember why the "N" word is so bad, and even harder to remember why I should take offense off of someone I don't know. I'm not going to do anything but give them their beer and get them on their way." He grabs the pitchers and walks out toward the table. Gary and Larry are playing with their lighters as Dumb Fuck turns the corner. Larry is trying to show Gary a really cool way to flick the lighter on, something he saw on "Reservoir Dogs". Jerry keeps his eye trained on Dumb Fuck as he sets down the pitchers. "Here you go guys," Dumb Fuck taps Jerry lightly on the back. "Your pizza is coming right up." Jerry grabs Dumb Fuck's hand tightly. "That little bitch told you didn't she?" The others stop what they're doing and look at Jerry. A wave of terror runs up their spine. They mistake it for adrenaline. "Told me what, sir?" Dumb Fuck is surprisingly calm. "Red, get your ass out here!" Jerry looks at Dumb Fuck. "We're going to have us a little chat." "Sir I assure you that she hasn't told me..." "No!" Jerry reaches into his crotch and pulls the gun out, not realizing that he had the gun stuffed into his underwear. All the squirming and moving around that he's been doing has unfortunately pinched a few of his pubic hairs between the moving parts. Later, the police Forensics Department will spend about four thousand dollars of man power and resources trying to figure it out. But for now, Jerry had to hide the pain as he slams the gun on the counter. "Get that little bitch out here!" Dumb Fuck didn't here a word Jerry said. The moment he saw the gun, his mind was ablaze. Jerry's hand twitched. Dumb Fuck, reacts, slides his hand around Jerry's side. He turned in a blink of an eye and Dumb Fuck slammed his hand down hard on top of Jerry's. Jerry only saw a flash of light. He looks down at his hand, his mouth gaping as Dumb Fuck pulls his hand away. In Dumb Fuck's hand was Jerry's Four-forty, stainless steel, African Safari bowie knife. Larry, Gary, and Harry, stare in amazement. Curiously, Jerry pulls his hand away. More curiously as he discovers, his forefinger remains. There, at the trigger guard, next to a pubic hair, lies Jerry's finger and the trigger, both beautifully severed by a thin piece of metal, from their respective owner's. For a moment, Jerry's mind slips into a thought on how he is going to recover from his internet stock crash, "the market has been sucky lately." He thinks to himself. At that moment, Sheby comes around the corner to the tables. She sees the men standing around a now-curling, bloody finger. "Dumb Fuck, what did you do?" Harry, being the one sitting at the end of the table turns to look at Sheby, then to Dumb Fuck. "Your name's Dumb Fuck?" Dumb Fuck looks at Harry for a moment, then quickly looks at Jerry. Jerry has begun to reach for the knife. His wits coming back to him. Dumb Fuck dives for the knife. The other three push back. Harry does so, very hard and knocks down Sheby. She slams the back of her head against the opposite table and is knocked out cold. Dumb Fuck pulls the knife out of the table. He sees the men getting up and takes that as an attack. Larry is the closest to Dumb Fuck. Dumb Fuck takes the knife and buries it into Larry's throat. Larry stumbles back and his leather pants slip down and trip him up. As Larry falls, Dumb Fuck pulls the knife out of his throat. A slight gurgling sound is heard. Dumb Fuck balances himself on Larry's head as he spins towards Harry, his hand catches Larry's hat before he goes down. With a flick of his wrist, the knife slides out of Dumb Fuck's hand and plants itself in Harry's chin. Harry instinctively grabs for his chin, but before he could get his hands to his face, Dumb Fuck grabs him by the forearms. Dumb Fuck leans back and kicks the knife into Harry's chin deeper. The blade disappears completely into Harry head as he falls back. His leather forearm guards slide off into Dumb Fuck's hands. Gary has chosen this particular moment (for obvious reasons) to run. Dumb Fuck is on him in no time. He grabs Gary by his vest, Gary is pulled back but he slides out of it. Dumb Fuck drops the vest and steps on the back of Gary shin. Gary falls to his knees as Dumb Fuck takes another step, on Gary's neck. He bears his weight on it, it snaps on impact. Dumb Fuck steps off of Gary, his boot imprinted on the back of his neck. He checks Sheby if she's ok. He takes the vest off of the floor and puts it under her head. Dumb Fuck walks around the table, picking up the forearm guards and the hat as he walks around. Jerry sits in the same chair, unable to move from what he has just seen. He sees Dumb Fuck's eyes fixed upon him, burning into him as he gets closer. Jerry is able to make a soft noise in the back of his throat, his mouth completely dried. "What was that?" Dumb Fuck asks. Jerry gulps. "Don't kill me, please." "Oh, I'm not." Dumb Fuck says calmly. Jerry snaps out of his daze. "Huh?" "Look..." "Jerry." "Jerry." Dumb Fuck continues. "Look Jerry you have one chance to live." "Anything." "You take the wrap for this." He looks at Dumb Fuck confused. "For what?" "For all this." Dumb Fuck points at Larry, "For that." He points at Harry, "And that." And turns to Gary, "And of course that. You take the fall for this shit, since this is all your fault." You get up and leave, and you will be that bad ass that you pretend to be." A smile comes across Jerry's face as he pictures himself in Dumb Fuck's shoes as he "Jackie Chan'd" everyone's ass just now. He looks up at Dumb Fuck and the smile wipes away. He gets up slowly and keeps his eye trained on Dumb Fuck. "You want me to leave now?" "Yeah Jerry, that would be a good thing, I got to call the cops pretty damn soon." "The cops?" "Yeah Jerry, you just killed three people." "For what?" "I don't know Jerry, you think I have the insight to your madness? The fact is you killed them and you fled. I didn't get a good look at your face, just a build, neither did Sheby here when she gets up. But remember Jerry, if the cops do catch you, you fall, and you fall big time, you know that right?" "Yeah I'm getting that." Jerry begins to get excited to leave. To live his, however awkward, dream. He pushes the chair in. He turns to Dumb Fuck. "Thanks." He starts to leave. Dumb Fuck stops him. "Jerry." "Yeah?" "Leave your keys, you fought with them and stole one of their motorcycle cause you don't have one anymore." Jerry reaches into his pocket. And puts the keys on the table. "Okay. Whose bike?" "Jerry I don't care, pick one." Jerry reaches down to Larry's side, without looking at him he took his keys and his wallet. "Can I take his wallet?" "Go ahead, but leave your finger." Dumb Fuck goes to the back and picks up the phone. Jerry stands for a moment realizing now that his finger is still bleeding, badly. He grabs a napkin and wraps it up. As he does so, he hears Dumb Fuck say, "Hello police, there's been a murder." Jerry runs out of the door. As the night lingers on, two rumbling noises are heard at opposite ends of town. One races away desperately heading for the border. Not because he wants to, but because he figures everyone else does. Everyone in the movies that he's seen. Jerry has been given his dream. Forced into his fantasy, he doesn't know whether to cry or smile. So he does both. No more cubicles for Jerry. No phone conferences, no stupid funny email forwards. And no finger. At the other end of town, after the questions and explanations to both Sheby and the police, Dumb Fuck pulls up to his apartment for the first time that he can remember, on his own vehicle, sort of. He opens the door to his apartment. On the chair in the kitchen he hangs up the trench coat that he found in Jerry's bike. He sets the forearm guards, the hat, and the leather vest neatly on the table. Things he conveniently kept from the cops. He goes over to his bed, as he removes his clothes he picks up the book that he has next to his night stand. He smoothes out the corner of the sticker on the cover that says, "computer geek inside." A joke still lost to him. As he flips to the last page he checks his bandages one more time. They're fine. There on the last page is written, "You're a super hero." Right underneath is written, "How?" And a list of words crossed out, such as invulnerable, flying, healing factor, etc. Dumb Fuck looks up at the kitchen chair. The trench coat hanging on it, the hat settled on the table. Dumb Fuck smiles. As he gets into bed, he continues to smile. There on the nightstand, a little black book is left open to a certain page. A line, "You're a super hero." scrawled onto the page. Several words crossed out, such as invulnerable, flying, healing factor, etc. As well as the word "How?" Next to it, an arrow is drawn across to the next page. There in a new page. is written, "You are a super hero, you fucking kick much ass. And your costume is hanging on the chair in the kitchen.