2fast2furious

ananthology
editedbyDominicLyne
Published by Deckfght Press, 2014
Copyright rests with the individual authors.
Edited and Compiled by Dominic Lyne. www.dom-lyne.co.uk
Original concept by Chris Dankland. www.dankland.net
Cover design by Shane Jesse Christmass. www.facebook.com/SJXSJC
Inside front cover by Bob Schofeld. bobschofeld.tumblr.com
Layout and design by Dominic Lyne.
The Authors assert their moral right to be identfed as the authors of this work.
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this publicaton may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or
transmited in any form by means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording
or otherwise, without prior permission of the publisher.
The views expressed in this book are not necessarily those of the publisher.
Find more books at www.deckfght.com
2fast2furious
ananthology
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01 Dominic Lyne 01
02 Paul Ray Christian 03
03 Brad Kennedy 05
04 Jack Serge 15
05 Lizzy Yzzil 17
06 Beach Sloth 21
07 Bob Schofeld 25
08 Lee Costello 29
09 Michael Hessel-Mial 39
10 Caleb Hildenbrandt 49
11 Paige Gresty 53
12 Shane Jesse Christmass 55
13 Ross Selavy Brighton 57
14 Alexandra Naughton 59
15 Yehoshua Josh Friedlander 63
16 Summer Migliori 67
17 Dave Shaw 69
18 James Ganas 83
19 Jonny Bagodonuts 85
20 Dominic Lyne 87
21 Paul Rizza 89
22 Bradley Sands 93
23 Roshan Abraham 95
24 Jos Charles 101
25 Ian Aleksander Adams 103
26 Paul Hanson Clark 107
27 Connor Healy 117
28 Josh Spilker 123
29 Jackson Nieuwland 127
30 Jovial Jellyfsh 131
31 Dan Lang 133
32 Jay Gabler 135
33 Omaybo Burback 137
34 John Mortara 141
35 Dom Schwab 151
01
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Te music starts to the black screen that is the back of your eyelids.
Your own personal movie preambled by the logo of ownership
by a multinational media corporation. In this circumstance it’s
Universal with its orange sunrise giving birth to the planet Earth,
turning in time to the pulse of the beat.
You hear the sound of an engine revving; your mind turns
the logo into the centre of a chrome hubcap and it spins into
oblivion as you feel yourself tearing towards your destination;
the adrenaline jumping in your veins.
Te truck stops and your eyes snap open. Instantly alert,
you jump to your feet, grab a trafc cone and join the others as
you play your part in the action; stamping the cone down onto
the tarmac alongside the ‘Road Closed’ sign that grins its false
truth out at passers by. With a clap of hands accompanied by
someone’s whoop of joy, you jump back into the truck and the
wait begins again.
Tis time you travel with your eyes wide open, savouring the
scene around you. Te roadside flled with souped-up cars; crowds
of people waiting around, casting euphoria of their bodies as they
anticipate what is coming, their hands grasping onto plastic cups
flled with beer. Te sound of their conversations deafens out the
music and, as you reach your goal, it is all you hear alongside the
sound of engines.
Te truck stops. You jump to your feet and grab a cone, ready
to slam it down against tarmac next to another ‘Road Closed’ lie.
You do this and turn back to the truck. Your role is played and
the scene cuts to:
A man with an afro and the ludicrous name of Tej Parker talks
into his phone. ‘Yo, Jimmy man, gimme the status. Tell me we’re
good.’
A voice murmurs a reply in the positive.
‘Beautiful. It’s gonna be an all-timer tonight.’ He snaps the
phone shut as he walks out of the door and addresses the crowd.
‘Alright, alright, alright. Fire them up.’ Te assorted crowd
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cheers. ‘We go live in fve. It’s time for ignition.’
Everyone continues to cheer and you join them. Te energy rising of
you like strobe lights fickering across the sky, weaving their way through
the crowd and across the tops of the revving cars. You close your eyes and
watch the lights dance and slow, burning themselves into the name of this
moment of your life’s flm: 2 FAST 2 FURIOUS.
02
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Ludacris / The Fourth
1.
Te ground there is a girl
group of car. Tis is a
very sexy girl with
fght ladies of hell
waiting for someone like you:
someone lower than of all the people.
Tere is sexy air
hair and
people who use cars as chairs
people who have parties
the world has a collective boner.
World boner. Couscous machine car
comes. It is not a hot. Girl and his cloth skirt girl,
working for equivalent of man ass,
need for a cemetery of pleasure.
more new car people shiny
people. rampant sexism man.
talk of “babies”
And as mentioned above, they
are distinguished from unknown girl,
and they are sexy people
and “did not want to have a good efect.”
[consideration of cat shame]
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2.
HYPOTHETICAL CONVERSATION BETWEEN LUDACRIS /
THE FOURTH:
He make an announcement:
“Gee, to make sure that
that is the desert valley
of Spain… to maintain
the control of all that,
I want you to ruin me.”
[Tere is a hot standby.]
“Up in you?”
“Yes. With no vagina.”
“I lock the many children in Africa.”
“I give the best of our crazy.”
“I go sexual.”
“It is found creating inches.”
“Gee, it’s hot.”
“You are satisfed.”
[2 men, pants]
3.
“Why am I here in the world
like a bright ass pink mobile phone?
What machine, to call another room in the world?” - Ludacris
Welcome, reader, to the chooseable-content 3rd chapter
prelude of the ALT LIT FILM NOVELISATION, 2 FAST 2
FURIOUS!
Chances are you’ve just settled in to reading this thing,
and you may not yet be certain that the plot contains enough
“narrative hooks” to engage your investment as a reader! It’s okay.
Feelings like this are natural. All we’ve done so far is introduce
the supporting cast and set the stage for a race scene. Te last
chapter ended with Ludacris saying shit about how a dude had
four minutes to be somewhere, which means, judging by time,
that the whole next chapter is gonna be about this dude getting
there! Tat’s a whole chapter devoted to moving one character
across town, whose name hasn’t even been decided on yet! So
instead, I thought I would give you - the reader - some other
options with which to occupy your attention.
1. IF YOU’D LIKE TO HEAR ABOUT THIS
MYSTERIOUS RACER AND THE FIRST MINUTE AND
A HALF OF HIS ALLOTED TIME TO GET ACROSS...
MIAMI? I THINK THIS IS MIAMI... THEN CONTINUE
READING AFTER THIS SECTION, DOWN WHERE THE
TEXT HEADING IS HEADED SECTION 3. TRUST ME,
DESPITE THE FACT THAT I JUST SPENT A HUNDRED
OR SO WORDS TALKING IT DOWN, IT’S STILL
NARRATIVELY IMPORTANT AND INTERESTING. AND
EVEN IF I’M LYING TO YOU, READING IS HEALTHY
FOR YOUR BRAIN, SO GET INCENTIVISED.
2. IF YOU THINK YOU CAN MISS OUT ON THE
INITIAL ATTENTION-GRABBING CAR CINEMATICS
OF THIS NOVELISATION, SPECIFICALLY BECAUSE
THIS IS A BOOK, SO THE CINEMATICS OF THE
SCENE ARE HARD TO CONVEY AT BEST AND COME
ACROSS AS CHEAP AND FLAT THROUGH WORDS
AT WORST, PERHAPS YOU’D BE INTERESTED IN
SUPPLEMENTARY “FUN FACT” INFO ABOUT THE
REST OF THE MOVIE TO COME, WHICH WILL
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ALLOW YOU TO GAUGE HOW FAR YOU REALLY WANNA
TAKE THIS “BOOK READING” THING FOR THE NEXT FEW
HOURS. IF SO, READ THE TEXT WITH A HEADING SECTION
1 AFTER THIS EXPLANATORY SECTION ENDS.
3. IF YOU, LIKE ME, ARE SUSPICIOUS AND CONFUSED
AS TO HOW THIS MOVIE MANAGED TO PREDICT THE
EXACT PLOT DETAILS OF THE CLASSIC VIDEOGAME
“NEED FOR SPEED: UNDERCOVER” NEARLY FIVE YEARS
IN ADVANCE, THEN PERHAPS WE CAN TAKE OUR SHORT
TIME TOGETHER TO SHARE CONSPIRACY THEORIES AND
MUTTER DARKLY ABOUT HOW THE GOVERNMENT AND
HOLLYWOOD HAVE BEEN STEALING IDEAS FROM THE
FUTURE, WHICH, THROUGH A COMPLEX PARADOX I
WILL BE MORE THAN HAPPY TO EXPLAIN, IS WHY THE
ONLY MOVIES IN THEATRES TODAY ARE SEQUELS. IF THAT
ACTUALLY SOUNDS ENTERTAINING OR EVEN SANE TO
YOU, READ THE TEXT WITH THE HEADING SECTION 2.
1
~~JUST THE FACTS: STRAIGHT TRUTHS THAT YOU
NEVER KNEW ABOUT THIS MOVIE~~
Ludacris does all his own stunts, raps, and built all of his own cars for the
movie. His real life is actually much closer to that of his character than
anyone suspects. All of his lines in the flm were just improvised things he
would normally say in a situation like this.
One of the people in this movie had never driven a car before! READ
THE BOOK AND SEE IF YOU CAN GUESS WHO. (Hint: they do
a surprising amount of driving!)
It was written into Paul Walker’s contract that none of the cars he
would have to drive would go faster than 88 miles per hour, because he
believes the Back To Te Future flms are a three-part documentary, and
that he might one day accidentally get sucked into the past. Any scenes
where he had to go faster than 88mph were shot using an uncredited
stunt double who many cast and crew on set described as, “Weirdly
identical to Paul, but like, 15 years older, at least.”
Tat dude in the gold sweatpants in this opening race scene is named
7
“Orange Julius”! Does he have radical street cred and a fondness for
smoothies, or is this just really cool product placement? YOU BE THE
JUDGE.
Tat technology the police use to stop the street racer cars with
electricity later in the movie totally exists in real life, but the cops made
everyone involved with the production promise to pretend it was just a
movie prop, and that they had seen nothing.
Tere are parts of the movie that were put into the flm backwards
from how they were originally shot! Te giveaway for this is when one of
the people on-screen starts talking in that freaky backwards way.
~COOL COUNT: LOOSELY TALLIED FUN FACTS ABOUT
THINGS THAT OCCUR A LOT IN THE FILM~
Number of times the word “bro” or “brah” or “breh” is said: like probably
160. If you notice at any point during your reading that nobody has said
“breh” “brah” or “bro” in a couple minutes, consider sprinkling a few in
the margins or some shit. Tat writer wasn’t paying attention when they
did their scene.
Tree of the cars in this movie don’t actually exist. You imagined the
scenes they were in when you saw it in theatres - though when it comes
to the part in the book where these imaginary cars don’t exist, you can
feel free to envision them anyways. Tis is America. You can do whatever
you want.
Number of bullets fred: None. Tis is a movie. No live ammunition
was ever used on set. Tat would be crazy.
Number of times a car does impossible shit: So many. Oh man. At
one point a windshield just... explodes, or some shit, like they’re waving
a gun around and it starts to explode without any sort of reason, the gun
isn’t even pointed at it, but bits explode out of it at random, like the car is
angry at them for fghting. And cars jump over all KINDS of shit. Is that
a thing cars can do, and I just don’t know about it? I was never able to do
jumps and hops and stuf while riding my bike as a kid but everyone else I
went to high school with knows how to do that. Maybe it’s the same with
cars. Sometimes the cars even jump over each other. Te number of car
jumps alone probably deserves its own “cool count” fact paragraph, but
this one is already way too long.
Number of crimes committed in the making of this movie: One.
8
“Chrono-plagarism.” (CHECK SECTION 2 FOR MORE INFO)
Number of cars in the flm: Actually, only seven. I know, right? It’s
crazy, but they just repainted the same seven cars for every diferent
shot, and special technicians used crafing putty to bulk up the bumpers,
add spoilers, etc. Which means that in total they used about 187 coats
of paint, and the weight of about 32 cars in putty. It ended up being a
lot more expensive than just renting more cars. Te director was very
embarrassed.
Number of times somebody fippantly tells somebody else to shut up?
More than 30! I know, right? Te people in this movie have a SERIOUS
ATTITUDE PROBLEM. Talk about impolite! If you ask me, between
this, all those rude as hell lies, and the swears these racers say to each other
over the course of 103 minutes, they oughta call this movie 2 CRASS 2
SPURIOUS.
Oh, by the way, the number of swears in this movie: a TON. I’ve
already used a handful of them just talking about it! Not safe for children,
probably. Or babies. Especially babies. Tere is too much danger,
excitement, and swears. If you are a baby, PUT THIS BOOK DOWN
RIGHT NOW. You can come back to this when you’re older. Just mark
your page with some drool or something, alright? Everyone else can keep
reading. We just needed to make sure the children were safe frst, because
here’s one more bit of trivia for you: Te children are our future.
2
SO YOU’VE REALIZED THEY’VE RUINED
EVERYTHING, EVEN THIS: A BEGINNER’S
GUIDE TO BLAMING THE GOVERNMENT FOR
LAZY SCREENWRITING USING TIME-TRAVEL
CONSPIRACIES
Ahh, excellent. A kindred spirit, capable of seeing through the lies of the
glittering world around us; untrusting of the government, the electrical
transfer of sensitive information, and the all-pervasive complacency of
every other helpless soul on the streets of whichever city you inhabit; a
fellow anarchist fghting the good fght through complex media analysis.
You came here because in 2008, (or perhaps in an entirely unrelated
incident) you picked up a copy of one of my favorite videogames, Need For
9
Speed: Undercover (or any other videogame, or maybe a book, or watched
a movie or something, I don’t know you) and recognized it immediately
for what it was: a relic of a once-possible future where the ideas contained
within had possessed originality. Flair. Life.
Now, it was only a sad trope. A copy of a copy. But then you opened
your eyes, and you saw the world for what it really was: A place slowly
being robbed of everything good, by its past - by the Hollywood of long
ago, in collusion with a nefarious government project. Te evidence is
all around us. We’re on the 5th or 6th movie in innumerable franchises
that so recently in our minds seemed fresh and exciting. We’ve rebooted
multiple comic book series into movies, multiple times. Tey’re making
flms out of JRR Tolkien’s unfnished stories, now, and movies based on
Bourne novels that Robert Ludlum didn’t even write. We live in a world
devoid of ideas. Where did they all go?
Tell me this: Have you ever heard the expression, “Remember the
90s?”
And if you haven’t before now... well, do you?
Remember how awesome everything on TV was? Te impossible
variety of Sunday morning cartoons? Te way TV execs seemed to take a
chance on everything, and always come out on top? Remember Seinfeld,
and Ren and Stimpy, and how many classic, original movies there were?
WRONG. EVERYTHING YOU REMEMBER ABOUT THE
90S IS A LIE.
Te 90s sucked. Tey were awful and boring, and nothing happened.
Cultural capital in America was at an all-time low. But in 2008, everything
about the 80s, 90s, - and now - changed forever.
Te year was 2008, and the fnal movie in the Star Wars series, Te
Return Of Te Jedi, had just been released in theatres. Everyone was
amazed. It was a masterpiece of modern sci-f storytelling. True genius.
Even the president loved it.
“How inspiring,” thought George Bush, the President of Te United
States. “If only there was a way we could have had these flms, with their
ubiquitous accessibility, and fantastical tales of morals and imagination...
but in the 70s, when myself and every other current rich white person
was young!”
And so operation “Hack-Lustre” was launched, designed to excise and
transplant cultural capital of the wealthy and creative 2000s back to the
years of dry, boring inactivity where nothing cool happened, in the past.
10
Te initial “Star Wars” program, designed to copy the entire series of
America’s favorite movies, was botched in its past-based receiving center,
and the fnal three plots were the only scripts that made it through the
pan-dimensional vortex back to 1972.
“We’ll sort it out later,” said Hollywood. “Just make four, fve and six
now, and we’ll extrapolate the frst three from there.”
With that, the career of chrono-scientist and amateur flmmaker
George Lucas - one of the leading fgures behind the future reclamation
project - was launched from anonymity to stardom. Tis was the frst of
many things that Hollywood’s future-based Idea Siphon would steal, and
eventually ruin.
And in that moment, things in the world we know today began to
crumble and fall to pieces.
Te prequel series of Star Wars aired in 1999, but the scripts of what
was initially an original block-buster sci-f trifecta had been lost crossing
the universal divide, and Lucas was forced to improvise. Tis was a glaring
giveaway to discerning chrono-scholars, along with the three-year gaps
between releases to milk the franchise as long as they could.
“It’s like he’s regressed to a child, wildly destroying the elegant creations
of his early success,” critics at the time remarked. But what they couldn’t
know is that George Lucas never wrote Star Wars. Te man who actually
had written Star Wars - not so long ago, in a universe far, far away - died
penniless and alone, deprived of the future that had made him a brilliant
auteur. Meanwhile, George Lucas was lost, terrifed, and confused - just
as the critics had suggested.
Still not convinced? Ten think back, perhaps, to the abundance
of creative television from your childhood. Now think about how
everything today seems like junk, and all the good “classic” shows, like
Te Simpsons keep running long beyond the point where they should
end. Tis is because the initial airing dated for the frst episode of Te
Simpsons was moved 12 years into the past, rendering the show 12 seasons
stale before it ofcially even began. We’ve got at least three more years of
this junk before we’re caught up to the original cancellation of the show
in Universe Prime.
WAKE UP, PEOPLE. Te classics of the modern era are being stolen
from us. What if tomorrow, we all remember Inception hitting theatres
in 1990 instead of 2010? CAN YOU IMAGINE WHAT WOULD
HAPPEN TO THE SPECIAL EFFECTS? CAN YOU IMAGINE
11
WHICH SEQUEL NUMBER WE’D BE ON BY NOW?
And there’s more: I swear Woody Allen used to be half the age he
is now. I can’t prove it, but I think he’s one of the frst human subjects
to actually travel back. It explains why he’s been able to do double the
number of movies of any normal director, and also why his wife is now
roughly forty years his junior.
We are losing the greatest ideas of our generation to our grandparents,
and the holes in reality where these movies once were are replaced with
a dim refection of the cinematic gems they once were: endless hordes of
sequels.
We don’t yet know what to do to stop it. But I hope afer reading this,
you can take solace in knowing that you’re not alone. We have to believe
we can fght this. We have to break free of the cycle. We can quit repeating
ourselves, making mocking copies of copies of copies. Go out there. Live.
Contribute new ideas to the world, before we lose it forever.
But aside from all that, enjoy the rest of this Novelization of 2 FAST 2
FURIOUS, the critically acclaimed second flm in FAST AND FURIOUS
series! Read on, stay focused, and remember to check the IMDB top 20
once a week, to make sure your favorites aren’t being stolen by government
time-thieves.
3
ALL RIGHT, THIS IS THE ACTUAL BIT ABOUT WHAT’S
GOING ON IN THE MOVIE RIGHT NOW
“You got four minutes, man.”
“All right. I’ll be there.”
Paul Walker threw down the phone and ran out of the room without
even asking for directions. His character was the best racer on Earth, he
would later argue with the continuity expert, and thus had an innate
“race-dar” that would allow him to fnd any street race within a hundred
miles, with pinpoint accuracy. If the continuity expert thought that
was dumb, then perhaps a more personal examination of the scene’s
plausibility was in order. Maybe the continuity expert ought to spend
a few takes in Paul Walker’s trunk, getting to know the character better,
Paul Walker suggested. Te continuity expert politely backed down.
Nobody else argued with Paul Walker’s character decisions afer that frst
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day of shooting.
Just like in prison. Act crazy on the frst day and everybody leaves you
alone, Paul Walker thought to himself as he raced across the city at deadly
speed. He was not bothered by the apparent subconscious insinuation
that he lived his life as if jailed by his glamorous career and everyone’s
expectations of him. Maybe he didn’t realize he was doing that. Maybe
being such a popular actor just did something to your brain. His handsome,
talented muscles manipulated the controls of the car with a careless,
handsome ease. Outside the vehicle, dozens of cameras panned around
the green-screen podium where the vehicle sat motionless, capturing
footage for CGI later. Paul Walker wondered what all of his other street-
racer cohorts were doing with their extra four minutes, though in reality
he knew that everyone was waiting in their trailers for the next scene to
be shot, and not actually partying in expectant apprehension while he
raced across town. Handsome, he thought, looking at his refection in
the rear-view mirror.
At the street race across town, sick jams were being pumped from
speakers in a fancy car while people did cool breakdancing moves to the
beat. You can fnd the song they were dancing to at: http://www.youtube.
com/watch?v=aa7nrbZ11UU. Tanks, Mike C! Te Internet is great.
Ludacris nodded, smiling as so many people danced and partied to a
song he had made. He was proud of himself and all that he had achieved.
Truly he was a man who had lived life to the fullest, he realized, catching
sight of his afro in the gleaming refection of one of the movie’s seven real
cars. Ludacris experienced an immense feeling of personal satisfaction at
this thought. It would be really great to be Ludacris, I think.
Hundreds of extras milled about and got rowdy to the sounds of Luda’s
wicked track. Tey worked up an incredible amount of energy for a bunch
of people who had been standing of to one side drinking bad cofee and
muttering ten minutes ago. Afer this they would all go home. In a week
or two, they would each receive a check for a few hundred dollars by mail.
Later, when the movie hit theaters, every single one of these people would
drag friends and family to see them onscreen in this one feeting moment
of dance parties, heated brawls and firtatious fller dialogue. In a sense,
this scene was the most important part of the movie for a lot of people.
Some of them might have even walked out of the theater afer this scene,
having watched all that they needed to. Rest assured, hundreds of extras:
your contributions do not go unrecognized by the rest of us.
13
Sadly, the moment was cut short. Paul Walker’s car slowly rolled on
set, being pushed by a couple of key grips and a best boy who really had
other important stuf they should have been doing at that time. Inside the
vehicle, Paul Walker wiggled controls and revved the engine to make cool
sounds. He fgured there was no need to put the car in gear when he had
all these people who loved him to push the car around.
Te crowd parted before the rumbling vehicle like the Red Sea, which
did very little to help Paul Walker’s messiah complex. Candid shots of
people making confused and upset expressions at the sounds of his arrival
would actually be used in the movie, and Devon Aoki’s heated mutter of
“Shit, it’s Paul Walker,” would be later dubbed to whatever Paul Walker
inevitably decided to name his character. It was in his contract that he be
allowed to pick the name. Paul Walker felt this added a personal touch
to every role he performed, as if he was christening each part as a child
of his own.
Te crew members who were pushing Paul Walker’s car collapsed,
panting, as he rolled up to the starting line. Steam vented from weird
parts of his car for no real reason. Soon the race would begin. Paul Walker
got out of his car. He was worried about the window tint obstructing
people’s view of his face, and also it was in the script.
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Paul Walker arrives at an underground car race. He is wearing a
white t-shirt and light blue jean shorts, perilously frayed.
Ludacris is there and his enthusiasm for life compels some
people in the movie theatr to titter and whoop.
It is night time and this is the underground car racing scene.
Paul Walker looks into the assembled crowd and sees someone
he recognises.
Mila Kunis puts her hands in her pockets and fddles around
for change before pulling out an old tissue and wiping her nose
with it.
Broom Broom the engines rev, the girls are hot wearing less
than bikinis.
Paul Walker lOOks across to the Rival Car. Te window is
manually lowered.
‘So, this is it. Tis is the race where all bets are of, to whit...
there can be only one winner, am I right?’ Paul Walker places his
tongue between his teeth and bites down, his eyes bulging.
Te rival racer looks over towards Paul Walker.
‘Maybe, maybe not. You are the legitimisation of the UGly
TRuth that predicates all that is wrong with Tis Community.
You race hard but you are a Narco, a Former Fed. You place racey
cars as a Hobby not a True Art Form. You need to be pHased out
in double quick time. And, yes, it is true, I am-’
Ludacris shouts ‘Let us do this’ and the cars whizz away, their
engines growl like perturbed domestic shorthairs.
Time freezes, in both the movie and the movie theatr. Te
rival driver looks across and into Paul Walker’s eyes.
‘Now is not the time, now is not the place. Let him win, let the
HATers think they’ve won, the Underground Race Community
must feel a low before it is brouGHt back into the MajesTic State
I believe, with a passion, it can Reach again.’
Te rival driver puts his car into the Neutralised Gear and
unfreezes time in both the movie and the movie theatr. He looks
over to Paul Walker and smiles. Paul Walker mouths ‘thank you,
but what is your name?’
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A beautiful woman and a beautiful man on their eighth date, no they
are beyond numbering dates now - it is love, speak in unison, spitting
their popcorn out as they do, ‘Jack Serge has saved this movie, what price
he is given his own Franchise?’
05
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It was the continuation of a story.
Te landscape always and never changed. Sometimes there
would be a building along the side of the road with the roof
caved in. Trees grew sideways. Flowers had a hundred petals. Slap
Jack feared exposure to chemicals or radiation and never lef his
vehicle without putting on a space suit he found in Houston.
Before that, he just never went outside.
Tey would park their vehicles in a square formation that
locked them in, and the outside out. Tey sometimes made food
and sometimes ate pills that simulated food. Tey always made
a fre, to prove that they could. Bullet would disappear through
a passenger seat door to the outer world to fnd wood. Suki,
Orange Julius and Slap Jack would sit in the dirt across from each
other and wait for his return, saying nothing to each other. Bullet
would appear with a bundle of sticks and branches sticking out
of his utility pack. Tey would harvest water from the internal
hydrogen combustion systems of the vehicles and boil it over the
fre to drink. Tey lived outside.
Between Chicago and Houston there was nothing. Houston
was ransacked. Orange Julius had vague memories of his years
spent outside Houston, age 5-7. It didn’t look like he remembered.
Tey were on their way to Miami, where they would make their
money. Miami had survived because as long as there are people,
there are drugs. Houston had run out of oil and with it, moisture,
energy, life.
Tey drove through the urban streets of Houston. Orange
Julius changed gears suddenly and accelerated past everyone,
daring them to race. Suki, Bullet, and Slap Jack held back and
followed Orange Julius on their tracking devices east of town,
weaving through highways until they had reached the ocean.
Tey did not park their cars in a tight square, but in a line, leaving
themselves vulnerable to the shore.
Suki sat down next to Bullet as he stoked a fre in the sand. She
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felt grateful that they were almost to Miami. Bullet turned his head and
looked at her and smiled. She smiled back, surprising herself. Bullet got
up suddenly and walked along the side of the vehicles in a row, dragging
his fngernails along their metal exteriors. Underneath dust and mud was
color. On top of the color was new blood. He got to the end of the last
vehicle and kept walking. Suki got up and followed him. Tey sat on a
clothes washing machine, half submerged. Bullet swirled his ground-
down fngertips in the ocean.
Suki awoke with a start to a loud metallic crunch. She grabbed her
weapon and shielded her eyes from the morning sun. Orange Julius was
absent, and she saw his vehicle disappearing down the road. Suki walked
to the back of her vehicle, now the last in line, and inspected the damage.
When she turned back to their sleeping place, she saw Bullet and Slap
Jack rubbing their eyes and faces and looking in her direction. Without a
word, each of them began to pack up their things quickly.
Tey were all racing now. It was fne for Orange Julius to have a little
fun on the road, but they were too close to the end now; Miami was only
about two hours away--if their fuel held. Tere was safety in numbers on
the road, but there was only one transaction to be made in Miami. Tese
details were purposefully ignored by all until this morning, until Orange
Julius had reminded them, wordlessly, of their purpose.
Suki kept close to Bullet’s vehicle, pacing herself, pacing as if moving her
limbs across a foor. Her mind created circular thoughts of impossibilities.
Suki wanted to set up a compound somewhere, where she could be safe.
She imagined bringing her girlfriend to a home and locking a series of
locks. She imagined her girlfriend, alive, sitting there, watching her turn
the locks. She imagined eating fruit from her own trees, years and years
from now. She wanted to walk, and not to sit, or drive, or crouch, or
hide.
Two hours later, Suki could see the lights of Miami in the distance.
Suki, Slap Jack, and Bullet had held a tight formation for the past one
and a half. Tey could all see Orange Julius on their screens, ahead, but
not too far ahead. Tey had been holding back. Now, as time felt like a
tangible wave urging them on, ahead, they raced. Tey raced as they were
genetically programmed to do - dangerously, viciously. Giving into their
programmed urges, their moods lifed; they felt competitive and strong
and liquid. Tose who race feel their blood move a little bit faster. Teir
thoughts race. Mechanized, made purposeless, they are ill-equipped for
19
this new world.
Suki pressed her turbo button and pink jets of fre propel her forward
at an improbable pace. She approaches a bridge at the outskirts of
civilization. Suddenly the bridge begins to shif, becoming two arms that
reach upwards. She is unfamiliar with this machine. Suki and her vehicle
meet the moving angle of the bridge and climb. Windows open, vigilant,
Suki looks around her when the sound of wheel and pavement goes silent.
She is soaring over empty air and whatever lies beneath.
“Smack that ass!” she yells out of her window, out to the vehicles behind
and in front of her, the men that forsake this Earth, the men that held her
future. She yells to the only person who ever lived for her and with her
- it is an invitation. Te front of Suki’s vehicle smashes into the ground
at the end of her fying arc. It interrupts her thoughts. She glances at her
faltering tracking device. Orange Julius is stopped behind her. She does
not remember seeing his vehicle. Bullet is ahead. Bullet is decelerating.
Bullet is stopped. She might as well be nowhere, or anywhere, because -
she thinks - he has won.
Bullet is smiling and shaking hands with Tej. Trough the crowd
around them he sees men unloading the metal trunks from the back
of his vehicle. Behind the line of men moving the trunks, he sees Suki’s
vehicle. He smiles.
“Tell me y’all saw that, man.” Tej is addressing the large crowd. “Bullet
and Suki sprayed the bridge. I need to start making y’all pay to see this
shit.”
Bullet realizes that the bridge, like every other obstacle along the way,
may have been orchestrated. It can’t be coincidence that both he and
Suki drove over the same bridge, opening twice, right as they each made
contact. He looked up at the corners of the warehouses surrounding them
and saw small cameras mounted at each one. He hadn’t watched TV in
over a year, but he guessed that this race was entertainment. He looked
down at the round wad of money in Tej’s outstretched palm.
“I got over ten stacks for my man here, all right?” Tej prods the crowd
into a camera-ready expression of excitement.
Bullet fips through the money, checking for fakes.
“Tat’s what I’m talking about, man. Play with it.”
“Smells good, don’t it? How about that?”
Bullet resisted lifing the money to his nose, although he could see Tej,
out of the corner of his eye, waiting expectantly for a performance.
20
“Right, y’all see this?” Tej suddenly grabbed the roll of money out of
Bullet’s hand.
“Everybody take a good look. Tis is what you call mutual respect.”
Tej handed the money back to Bullet, and Bullet put it immediately
into the inside of his jacket. As soon as he had the money in his pocket, he
pushed through the crowd towards Suki’s stopped vehicle. His character
was done. When Suki saw him walking up, she gave him a very small
smile. Bullet noticed, for a moment, two video cameras mounted on her
side mirrors. He felt no strong emotion towards the cameras that had
ostensibly followed their every movement.
To avoid answering Suki’s smile with any sort of expression, Bullet
reached into his pocket. He ran his thumb down the middle of the roll of
money and pulled out half. He rolled it in his hand and quickly shoved it
into Suki’s palm. She closed her hands around the money. She closed her
eyes and smiled big, and saw locks, and sand, and another foating smile.
“All right, let’s clear out,” said Tej to an already waning crowd.
“Anybody down for another race?”
Te orchestrated crowd had dispersed. Suki and Bullet had disappeared,
separately, in one direction. Tere was no one else around. It seemed for
a moment to Tej that there were no more people lef on earth. He looked
at Cameras 12 and 13 and stuck up his middle fngers, and bowed. Tey
could cut that part out later. Tey could edit in a crowd where there was
none. Tey would continue to be the highest rated show on earth. He felt
satisfed with his performance. He thought he did well every night.
Tej walked towards one of the warehouses, lighting a cigarette. Bored,
meandering around, waiting for something to happen, he kicked one
of the metal trunks from Bullet’s car and the lock gave way, the trunk
opening in one motion. Inside, there was nothing.
06
B
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Suki’s car lost its bottom lip. Te pavement stole it away. Gravity
just wasn’t going to let that beautiful pink smile exist anymore.
Poor Suki laments the loss. Just looking at the now-gone bumper
reminds Suki of her childhood. Ever since she was a little girl she
wanted to become a marine biologist. Back then she played with
stufed animals, octopuses, killer whales. At UC Santa Barbara
she did an entire dissertation on the eating habits of krill. It
made her aware of every possible attribute of the krill’s digestive
tract. Yet somehow Suki’s marine biology degree led her into the
world of street racing. Putting all of these conficting emotions,
of sadness, regret, nostalgia, wistfulness, and anguish aside she
utters a single word that summarizes her plight:
“Shit”
Tej, being the ever-afable sport, decides he can help her in the
midst of her situation. His mind goes through several sexual car
puns. Te frst one is:
“Hey want to fuck”
He discards this one for it is an explicit statement of intent.
It is a naked cry for help devoid of deeper meaning. Tough he
would like to know her in the biblical sense he fgures he needs to
work for it. For his next one he wants to ask:
“Can I check out your exhaust pipe baby?”
Tat one he rejects for being rather stupid. Besides he thinks
to himself the pun plays on the ass’s ability to emit methane gas.
Exhaust pipes typically do not release methane gas but rather
the by-product of whatever crazy shit these nut jobs inject into
their cars. Looking at the back of her car the exhaust pipe is in
perfect condition rendering the pun pointless as well as stupid.
Reminiscing for a bit he wonders about his ability to create a
sexual car pun germane to the situation. It used to be so easy for
him. Life got too hard for him. He re-thinks his ‘Hey want to
fuck’ remark and comes up with something clever, something
truly brilliant and something he never would be able to say ever
again. He says:
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“Hey, uh make sure you bring that body by the garage later, alright, so
we can work on that front end of yours. Heh.”
Tej says this with full confdence. Even the ‘heh’ is full of confdence.
It reminds him of when he used to be a master debater in high school.
Kids called him the master-debater as a delicious play on the word
‘masturbator’, an insult hurled at him that he oddly respects to this very
day. Whatever though, he knows he’s awesome. He thinks of the kids who
doubted him. Earlier in the day he bumped into a former high school
classmate who worked on remodelling his kitchen. Tej watched the high
school classmate rebuild his kitchen while Tej listened to Te Unicorns
on his iPod.
“Watch out, maybe I will.”
Suki replies playfully pressing her body up against Tej. Tej is confused.
A few moments ago he was thinking about indie rock from Canada
and now he is thinking of fucking. He wonders if Suki would be into
Te Unicorns. He fgures she probably would. Suki looks like a cute girl
he used to hit on who worked at a local record store. She was so cute
he brought the entire discography of Stereolab, the Boredoms, and Yo
La Tengo. Altogether the discographies cost him over $1,100. He lost
his virginity to that girl at the age of 25 in his dorm room while he was
fnishing his MFA program.
Tough it feels kind of college dorm style to him to have sex to indie
rock he really wants to introduce somebody else to Te Unicorns so
he’ll have someone to talk to about music. Sex is just a gateway drug to
friendship for Tej. He understands this about himself. Tej is very aware of
his inner being and meditates daily. Since he’s been thinking about her all
day and watches her walk away he says:
“Yeah”
Tej wants Suki to know that he really cares about her, and that he
recently got his kitchen remodelled. He doesn’t even know where to
begin so he glances out wistfully at her knowing that she will probably
not return later that night, leaving him alone with the graveyard shif
guy who is disturbingly into Steely Dan. If he heard ‘Aja’ one more time
he was going to lose it. Hopefully tonight the graveyard shif guy would
discover another light-jazz rock fusion band, like Ambrosia. Tej likes
Ambrosia; he likes them a lot.
Brian walks away from his car to speak to a mysterious someone. Tis
Monica woman intrigues him. While Brian is a completely inarticulate
23
nimrod of the Dude, Where’s My Car variety, he has heart. Using surfer
bro accented English he asks her:
“Hey where are you going?”
Monica stares at him, befuddled by his sheer inability to comprehend
anything about his ridiculous racing profession. She knows it is illegal.
Monica is aware that despite having won a large sum of money, Brian’s
racing career does not provide dental or vision, only a rudimentary 401K
plan and little chance of promotion. Calmly she says to him:
“It’s time to get out of here.”
“Why’s that?”
Brian asks with a confused facial expression.
Law enforcement arrives. Boring jungle music is introduced as a way
of making the drivers’ escapes seem ‘fresh’. Without a melody, Brian’s
confused facial expression transforms into an ‘oh fuck’ facial expression.
Cars begin to drive away. Police cars trap them. Brian laments that he
doesn’t live in a country that allows illegal street racing. Brian really
misses Manitoba. People are really pro Illegal Street Racing in Manitoba
for some reason.
“Oh shit”
Brian mutters as he almost collides with a police car. Brian strongly
dislikes colliding head frst into police cars. It is a very strange fear.
Regular car collisions are cool. Adding that representative of the law into
the equation gives him a fear he can’t possibly explain, even if he wasn’t an
abject failure of a human being, a total moron, and a recovering ultimate
Frisbee addict.
Jungle music blares in the background. It is really generic jungle music
but then Brian has no taste in music. He likes his music like he likes his
car: too fast and too thoughtless. Refecting his emotional state the car
glows blue as he tries to evade the police who are in ‘hot-ass’ pursuit of
him. One of the police cars crashes into a Ford Taurus.
Te police ofcer in the police car says:
“Oh shit”
Te police ofcer in the police car is disappointed. Te police ofcer
thought he would impress his role model, random blonde illegal street
racer guy. In the police ofcer’s bedroom he has pictures of random
blonde illegal street racer guys for his 2003 calendar. Next year the police
ofcer will have another law enforcement themed calendar for meth
addicts, so he’s really enthused that all the random blonde illegal street
24
racer guys have a full set of teeth and no open sores. Dejected the police
ofcer thinks about the only other thing that could show he was cool,
growing a mustache and joining the police department’s bowling league.
Random piano twinkles in suggestion that things are about to get
dramatic. Brian is still enthused about watching the police ofcer crash
into a Ford Taurus. Unwilling to recognize the music’s ability to suggest
a more dramatic turn of events Brian drives on unaware of his impending
demise. In front of him is a police ofcer.
Unlike the fan boy police ofcer who hit the Ford Taurus, this one lost
his entire family to illegal street racers. Having vowed revenge on illegal
street racers he is the head of the illegal street racing division. Most police
ofcers do not understand his obsession. To this day he’s never explained
how he last saw his dad right before a car going 140 miles per hour hit
him, killing him instantly.
With that harpoon gun the police ofcer feels a little like Captain
Ahab. He shoots the harpoon. He scores. Brian is fustered. Te entire
car’s system is shot to pieces. He crashes ironically into a parking meter. It
is ironic because Brian hates parking. He’s always going too fast and too
furious. Maybe the cops surrounding him with their weaponry can show
him another way of doing things. Tis might be his only chance to learn.
He better use it. However he looks distraught at his lack of transportation.
No car means he can’t make his commute for his job as a human resources
specialist for a mid-sized stapler manufacturer.
07
B
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-Is this an interrogation?
-No.
-What then?
-Just me. Here. Showing you how much I care.
-But I don’t know you.
-Tat could change at, literally, any moment.
-Look, I don’t trust cops.
-Tat’s okay. I know. I’m just here to talk. Here right now. Don’t
think of me as a cop. Tink of me as a dad. A cool dad.Two chill
tweens stacked under a single, paternal trench coat. Look at me
and imagine a full-blooded wolfman, only there happens to be a
badge there, shining, sewn deep into the fbers of my vibrating
chest hair.
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when I was still a cop I was the tallest thing on four legs
blue like all little boys my abilities somehow sharper,
more perfect for taking apart cans of cream plant life,
removing the lids of birds all things scurrying I see
myself back then born into a tuxedo jacket of bright
pink meats situated on a kind of wire crying out in
the night for someone to appear at my feet feeding me
as I lie recumbent in my water bed of high fdelity
cheekbones
My driving, foot long and blonde like a building
we’ll never fnd an entrance to,
whose pneumatic hissing and frigid breaths
must stay partially mysterious. I think of it like
the life of Al Capone, or the big bang, when ten black
polka dots failed through the symmetrical vacuum
of a corner ofce in suburban Miami. Tomorrow
I’ll be driving around in circles for the rest
of my life. And there is nothing freer than opening
the windows of a hearse with your tongue stabbing
up and out, or continually revving the engine inside
a giant novelty hot dog car. Or curling up into a
27
ball in the grass, rolling downhill,
and inventing orange sherbet at the red light.
08
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Events Corresponding in Real Time: a multidimensional
photographic series by Eadweard Muybridge (1830-
1904-)
It is the 3rd of June, 2002. In a San Francisco basement darkroom
the ghost of Eadweard Muybridge, pioneer of the moving
image, is developing a series of medium format slides for a new
photographic set he has been working on non-stop from beyond
the grave. Eadweard has been dead for 97 years. Te multi-
dimensional point of view he acquired upon dying only spurred
Eadweard on to further explore the limits of photographic
technology. With this project, Eadweard is attempting to
capture the imagery of simultaneously unfolding situations born
out of the work he undertook as a living man. Te aim of this
particular body of work is for Eadweard to explore the dynamics
of interrelationships in which the participants have no conscious
knowledge or awareness of and to record the efects these people
have on one another. To keep things simple Eadweard has chosen
a set of people who have been afected by him and his actions
during his own physical life time.
Te technology Eadweard has available to him in the aferlife
is inexplicable to a living person existing on a three dimensional
plane, so in order to present the work as best it can be presented
it has been translated into a two dimensional text based form.
Set 1A
Paul Walker is on a two week break in Tailand before shooting
begins on his next project, 2 Fast 2 Furious, the sequel to his
major breakthrough movie Te Fast & Te Furious.
Due to a recent lull in job ofers extending from late 2001 to
late 2002, Paul Walker has been feeling an increasing sense of
apprehension about the trajectory of his career as a Hollywood
actor, and, as a result, has been sufering mild pangs of anxiety
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and self doubt. Paul feels that at 29 he should have accomplished more in
his career than he currently has, a feeling that conficts heavily with the
humble public persona that he is known for, and to which, he is all too
aware, he owes most of his roles to date.
Paul is walking along the seafront. He is breaking an uncomfortable
sweat in the unrelenting heat. He looks out across the calm water at a
distant archipelago of small mountain islands. Paul notices one peak in
particular that juts hundreds of feet up into the air like a giant arthritic
fnger. Paul feels tiny and incidental in light of his surroundings. He
swallows the little saliva he has lef in his dry mouth in an instinctive
attempt to quench his thirst and settle the uneasy feeling in his gut.
While laughing at monkeys as they simultaneously beg from and attack
the other tourists, Paul Walker is lost in a troubling cycle of thought. On
one hand he knows that he is no closer to being ‘truly happy’ and on the
other he thinks, ‘I’m Paul Walker’.
‘I’m just ungrateful,’ Paul thinks to himself, before resuming a painfully
familiar expression that he feels might now, afer so long, bear more
resemblance to a grimace than a smile. Paul is quiet for a moment, having
lost track of his existential quandary. He takes a picture of the monkeys.
Set 2A
Seven children, none of them a day older than nine years old, walk down
a country lane somewhere in rural Northern England. Some of the girls
talk about school; some of the boys chop down dandelions with whipping
sticks and throw stones into the feld of cows by the roadside. Te kids are
fve miles from their homes. Tere is an unspoken agreement between the
children that they are in danger. Not in danger of being bundled into the
back of a car by a ‘strange man’, or attacked by a wild animal, or becoming
lost at dusk, but of being caught by their parents. Te road the kids are
walking on is the main road between the village they live in and the main
town. Any of their parents could drive past at any moment and the kids
know this. To cover themselves most of the kids have told their parents
that they are going round to each others houses to watch a movie, play a
video game, get their hair braided, that kind of thing.
Only one of the kids - a nine year old girl - has not made any excuse for
her absence. She simply didn’t think to. Her Mother, so the girl believes,
31
is not the concerned type and her Father is out fshing somewhere with
her younger Brother. Te girl, having spent most of her morning sitting
around the front of their house bored while her Mother pruned the
fowers lining her pristine lawn took the opportunity for a day out with
friends as quickly as the option presented itself. Te girl didn’t even feel
the need to explain where She was going or what She was doing to her
Mother, who had gone inside momentarily to take one of her Brother’s
toys away from the dog before he chewed it to pieces. Te girl ran across
the grass, jumped her Mother’s fowers, and joined the three girls in a
chain of linked arms and of they went.
Walking down the lane, the four girls and three boys don’t have any
particular destination in mind, but since the boys do this kind of thing
regularly, nothing seems out of the ordinary to any of the girls. It is ten
miles from the village to the town but the kids don’t have any intention
to go to the town. Tey aren’t really looking for anything in particular
but will maybe stop of at a stream or a stile to sit for a while, or go into a
petrol station to buy crisps or a can of pop.
As they pass a busy crossroads one of the boys feels something hit his
leg. He looks down.
“Eurhh! A bee!”
Te other boys fank him as they all crouch to examine the bee. Te
bee lies on its side, moving its legs in a walking motion while moving its
body around in the dirt with one seemingly functional wing.
“Is it dead?” one of the girls asks.
A boy prods the bee gently with a stick he is carrying. Te bee is pushed
through the dust and loose tarmac.
“Nope! Defnitely alive,” a boy says.
“Just leave it then,” the girl says, feeling confdent that he will do as She
says, all the while thinking about how much of a good guy the boy is.
“Okayyy,” the boy says, looking each of the other boys in the face,
breaking a shallow smile.
As the boys get up from their crouch and the girls turn to assess the
busy crossing, the boy who initially discovered the bee stamps on it so
hard that he gets a shooting pain up through his shin bone that reaches
as far up as his thigh. He doesn’t wince. Te girls just look at him, all
of them clearly unimpressed. Te three other girls break the standofsh
situation by laughing hysterically at the line, “Welllll, whatever will bee
will bee!”
32
As the kids are standing at the busy crossing a car approaches them
noisily from behind. Whoever is driving the car is obviously in some kind
of heightened, agitated state.
Te girl knows the car instantly; it is her Father’s old car. Te car
isn’t usually used as the family have a bigger, newer car now. Te girl is
frightened already by the fact that her Mother is driving the car. Te
Mother’s licence having been revoked three years earlier for dangerous
driving due to her deteriorating eyesight.
Te girl watches as her Mother mounts the kerb carelessly, stops the
car with a jolt and a grinding noise, and fumbles while undoing her
seatbelt. Her Mother steps out of the car without closing the door behind
her. Te girl notices her Mother’s face. She has never seen her this angry.
Te Mother marches toward the group of children. Te other three girls
retreat slightly while trying to remain casually indiferent to what is
unfolding before them.
Te Mother reaches the girls, grabs her Daughter by the back of her
blouse and the waist of her skirt, and lifs the girl into the air like a small
suitcase or rucksack. Te woman is seething. Te other kids stand around,
half of them smiling nervously, laughing a little, the other half in stunned
silence. None of them know what to do with themselves.
Te kids watch as their friend is carried away by the frightening woman
and shoved into the back of the car like a limp bundle of old sheets. Tey
stand planted frmly to the earth as the woman slams shut the doors of
the car and pulls away in a rage. Tey watch the car drive out into the
busy crossroads, perform a U-turn in a chance gap in the trafc, tyres
screeching and smoking, and they watch as their friend disappears in the
car as the Mother drives back past them towards the village.
Set 1B
Sometimes, when he is alone, or distant enough from other people to do
it without being noticed, Paul Walker sings to himself out loud, ofen
forgetting the lyrics to the songs, sometimes even making up his own
songs. Ofen he will recite or make up his own poetry, as well as the odd
theatrical monologue.
Paul makes sure that there isn’t a person within earshot as he begins
reciting lines from the destruction derby scene of his copy of the 2 Fast 2
33
Furious script.
“Yeah, that’s him,” he says, in response to a question he will be asked by
Tom Barry’s character.
“Yeah, he’s got some skills,” Paul Walker says, looking of into the
middle distance at an imaginary destruction derby.
“And he’s crazy as hell, I’m tellin’ ya!” Te second half of the line comes
of as having too much emphasis on the ‘hell’, so he repeats it.
“And he’s crazy as hell, I’m tellin’ ya!” Tis one is more to Paul Walker’s
satisfaction, but he repeats it once more to be sure. He feels like he might
have stressed the ‘tellin’ this time. He can never really be sure about these
things.
“And he’s crazy as hell, I’m tellin’ ya!”
Tat was it, he thinks. Paul is pleased. To remember the intonation for
the line he repeats it over and over, internally and to the same rhythm,
until it sticks.
Set 2B
Sitting at the edge of her bed, an air of hypertension having paralysed the
atmosphere of the house. Te girl is biting her nails down to the root. In
a pain of her own making, with her fngernails bleeding from the cuticle,
She stands up and approaches her computer desk.
Te computer is an old desktop PC from the early noughties given to
the girl by her Father to help with school work.
As She reaches the desk She imagines the monitor as a person’s head.
She violently pulls the monitor from the desk. Sparks come from inside
as the screen breaks into shards and chunks that disappear among her
younger Brother’s toys.
She stands still in silence, half anticipating her Mother coming up
the stairs, but all the while hoping with everything that She didn’t hear
anything. Afer around ten seconds of standing still the girl feels confdent
that her Mother is in the garden again tending to her plants and so She
tentatively begins to move back to her bed. With her frst step She feels a
sharp stinging pain in the ball of her lef foot.
Te girl lets out a yelp of a scream, before managing to get a hold
of herself. She hops like the foor has been replaced with hot coals and
without realising it begins punching the plasterboard wall. She keeps
34
punching and slapping the wall until her palms are bruised blue and her
knuckles are cut up and bleeding.
She is inconsolable.
By digging what’s lef of her chewed nails into the wallpaper, She is
getting plaster and paper under her nails, and little spots of blood on the
walls.
Tears and a little bit of what She thinks might be snot are in her
mouth.
She is pushing her knuckles and forehead against the wall, now, as hard
as She can. She feels like either her neck or the wall will break soon.
Te girl is embarrassed beyond stopping. She really wants to kill
something, but She is alone.
Each exhalation is the shriek of a small, dying animal. She is quickly
growing tired.
Afer ten minutes spent quietly venting her anger through a
combination of deep seething, crying, and holding her breath, the girl
has calmed down.
Te girl is looking out of her window now, refecting now on her
behaviour.
Te tears have stopped and the girl has wiped the last of the snot from
her upper lip.
As She is trying to get her breathing back down to a normal rate, the
girl notices a picture book titled Our Earth and Solar System. She has
been aware of the book being in the corner of the room, lying face up
among the mess of clothes, food packaging and toys, for at least the last
week but has never thought to look at it.
Te girl limps over to the corner of the room, taking care not to tread
on any glass that might be hidden among the mess, and picks up the
book. She takes it back to the bed, lies down on top of the bed sheets
and opens the book. Just as She is about to begin reading, She hears a car
pulling into the drive.
Set 1C
Smiling now, Paul Walker is looking out across the water. Tere are
long boats taking tourist out across the sea to islands on the horizon,
there are couples and families swimming and having fun in the shallow
35
turquoise bay, and there are no more than three clouds in the entire sky.
It is a beautiful day and Paul Walker acknowledges the fact by clenching
his hands tightly and inhaling deeply through his nose while smiling
inwardly and thinking, ‘If this isn’t nice...’ before his train of thought
dissipates into blankness.
At the expense of thought, spatial awareness, and a degree of
consciousness, Paul’s body reaches a momentary compromise with the
sea. He is transfxed.
He has always wanted to work in and around the ocean and in this
moment Paul’s imagination is sparked into life. As soon as he gets back to
California, Paul has decided, he is going to sign up for diving lessons. Paul
thinks about the diving lessons for a few minutes. He thinks about the
career paths they will open up to him. Tings like marine conservation
projects, swimming with sharks, exploration of the seabed; real study.
All of these things excite Paul and he feels extremely grateful to have the
opportunity to be living the life he has.
A moment passes before Paul’s train of thought is interrupted by a
nagging sense of doubt. He begins talking again, this time thinking
aloud.
“I am Paul Walker. I am about to play lead in a potential blockbuster
picture for Universal studios. I am healthy, talented, have an exciting
career and a fulflling life. I have a beautiful daughter...” Paul feels the
air in his lungs turn to stone in a breath. His mind is a tesseract spinning
double.
He can’t think of anything else to add at this point, not that anybody
heard him but himself, and even he won’t remember this particular
episode.
“I wish I had a pen and some paper,” he says, again to himself, “that one
was good.” He kicks a shell that turns out to be a hermit crab, he feels bad
for a second but the crab seems okay and Paul quickly forgets.
Te one thing Paul Walker knows he has going for him is that he is
open, proactive, and ready to be wrong. “I am ready to be wrong,” he says
to his feet as he trudges through the now heavy sand.
He continues his speech, “My inability, or maybe reluctance, to feel
any concrete emotion can be analogised as my frame of mind being in the
equivalent position of a stomach jumping up into a chest as it crosses the
brow of a hill in a speeding car. Te past, the future, the present, a gravity
defying organ foating in the chest cavity of moral and ethical decay, the
36
car falling apart mid fight, maybe...” Again he trails of, this time cursing
herself inwardly for not having a pen to hand.
Paul walks in silence for a few seconds. He thinks about the Nissan
Skyline he will get to drive for 2 Fast 2 Furious and he thinks to himself,
“Sweet.”
Set 2C
Sitting in silence, in her room, the girl hears her parents talking, almost
shouting at one another, for around ffeen minutes before She hears her
Father’s footsteps coming up the stairs. He knocks before entering.
“Jesus...” the Dad says, from the doorway where he stands surveying
the state of the room. It takes a few seconds of staring before he notices
the broken computer monitor lying among the toys.
“What happened?” he asks.
“I knocked it.” the girl says without lifing her head.
Te Dad is quiet. He strides over the messy foor and sits beside his
Daughter on the bed, noticing the book by her side.
“Is that the book we got David for Christmas last year?” he asks,
breaking the tension.
Te girl mumbles something afrmative sounding and glances
momentarily upward out of her sulk.
“I didn’t realise you were interested in space and planets or any of that
kind of thing,” the Dad says, trying to make conversation.
“I’m not,” She says.
“Well it’s very interesting,” the Dad goes on. “Space. It’s full of all
kinds of mystery. It’s not just cold empty space and empty planets, you
know? Tere are scientists out there in America, Japan, China, who all
believe there was life on Mars once.”
Tis gets the girls attention.
It takes a moment for her to lif her head, but She eventually does.
“Really?” She asks, betraying a sense genuine interest.
“Yep. Tey think that because they’ve found ice up there. It’s colder
than any place on Earth, Mars, and it doesn’t have air like we do so there
aren’t any animals up there and there probably never were, but they do
think microscopic life existed, maybe bugs too.” He is bending the truth
now to keep his Daughter’s attention.
37
“Insects?”
“Yep. Maybe small ones, but maybe huge ones too. Beatles as big as
the car! Can you imagine? You’ll learn all about this stuf when you start
secondary school. But you should read that in the meantime,” he says,
nodding toward the book.
“I might.” She says.
Te Dad smiles and the girl feigns a little smile in return.
Te two share a quiet moment before Te Dad decides to bring up the
issue of her disappearing.
“What happened earlier? Why did you leave without telling your
Mum where you were going?”
Te girl is quiet again.
“You should know better than that, Lilly. You do know better than
that.”
She says nothing for a moment.
“I do. I was bored. I never get to do anything on weekends!”
Te Dad thinks about this for a moment and can’t disagree with his
Daughter.
“You and David go fshing all the time!”
Te Dad is saddened by the idea of his Daughter feeling sidelined by
his relationship with his Son.
“We’ll do something,” he says. “Soon.”
Te girl says nothing.
Te conversation is interrupted by the sound of David running up the
stairs, groaning. the door fies open.
“Dad! Beethoven chewed up my Fast & Furious fgure! Look!”
Te doll has had its head chewed into an unrecognisable pinecone
shape of ragged plastic.
“Well you shouldn’t leave your things lying around the house then,
should you?” the Dad says, sternly.
“Well you should have taught him not to chew things by now, shouldn’t
you!” the boy says, imitating his Father’s tone.
Te Father looks at his Daughter and looks at his Son, he stands up
and moves toward the door. Te boy drops the doll, turns, and runs back
downstairs.
Te Dad turns around and looks back at his Daughter.
“We’ll be ok, me and you. We’ll do more, I promise,” he says to his
Daughter with sad eyes that She notices betraying his smiling mouth.
09
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Brian O’Connor opened the throttle and drove down the
straight-away, Roman Pearce in the car next to him, both their
engines roaring, the heat on the road ahead shimmering.
“Alright, that’s good!” John’s voice came in over their
headpieces.
Brian braked to a stop and Roman followed suit.
“Tat a wrap?” he said into his mic.
“We’re good, guys! Bring it on in!”
As he drove the car back to the cameras and crew, Brian
refected on what had brought him to this point. Te cars, the
drugs, the chases — a progression of ever-escalating stakes that
had played out across the globe. He had almost forgotten the
days he was now enacting, when bringing down a single paltry
drug lord had seemed so important — and when saving a lover
had mattered as well. Monica was as beautiful as ever, but Brian
knew he was past loving. Strange how that worked out. He
shifed his weight in the Misubishi Lancer’s seat. Te Evolution
VII wasn’t as forgiving as he’d remembered.
“Alright guys, we’re gonna load these onto the trailer and go
out to the city set,” John said when he pulled up. “Monica, you’re
with me.”
Monica Fuentes rose from the folding chair she’d been sitting
in, next to the director.
“Sounds good.” She said, and walked away. Brian followed
her with his eyes as he got out of the car. He considered swinging
through the open window but thought better of it and swung
open the door before setting foot on the ground.
“Nice take guys, nice take,” said Roman, to no one in
particular.
Brian hated city scenes. It was a million little takes, nothing like
actually racing, like an actual chase — that is, it was a million
little takes on the rare occasion that everything wasn’t green-
screened.
“Remember this?” he asked Monica.
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“Of course,” she said, looking forward — but her eyes said, “Not
really.”
Brian knew the intervening years hadn’t been as good for her. She’d
gone back to the FBI and a desk job afer that business on the boat; he knew
she’d been involved in the Berlin case, remotely, but that had really been
their only contact before Hollywood came, contracts and scripts in hand.
He knew, though, that she must have heard about him, about his time in
a Mexican jail, about Tokyo, about Brazil, about the underwater colony,
the space station. It had cost the relevant branches of the intelligence
community a fortune to keep it out of the media, but Brian knew how
gossip spread from agency to agency, like cocaine-tainted cash. And now,
years afer declassifcation, he’s signed away his name to a planned twenty-
seven installments that would keep American audiences in their seats for
years. He thought about that frst heroin shipment — sixty million had
seemed like a lot at the time, but it was less than his pay for just this one
installment. And Hernan Reyes? A hundred million cash was nothing
— the extravagance of the underworld and law combined was boring
next to the backing of studio execs.
Te camera mount in the trailing car swung around to their window.
“Turn right here,” Monica said, and then, “So you used to be a cop?”
Brian looked at her. Was this her idea of acting?
“Yeah,” he said. “How long you been under?”
“I lost track,” Monica said. She was bored, Brian realized, but it worked
well enough in this context.
“You okay?” he asked, unscripted.
Monica looked back at him, annoyed, then smiled.
“You might want to keep your eyes on the road, playboy,” she said.
“What, you think we’re gonna crash?” said Brain, resuming his lines,
wondering if her posture, right leg propped up, tilting her lap subtly
toward him below the camera’s frame of reference, had been in John’s
notes, or if it was just Monica.
“I haven’t decided yet,” said Monica.
“Cut!” yelled John.
Tey did some close-ups of Brian’s hands and feet, putting the car
into high gear, and Brian wondered again why they’d insisted he wear
Converse shoes. Some kind of placement deal, no doubt. Kids.
Now it was time for the eye contact scene. Te car was put on a
mobile soundstage, green backdrops all around. Te crew moved fans
51
into position in front of the car, one slightly to the lef, one slightly to the
right. Tey’d splice in Roman’s commentary later, Brian knew. For now,
all the crew’s eyes were on him and Monica. He smiled. Te cameras
were rolling. He straightened his features, turned, looked at her, and
meant it. She looked at him, inscrutably. Her eyes didn’t move. He
continued staring, and she stared back. Te stage was quiet except for
the sound of the fans. Foley would mix in the sound of whining engines
later, Brian knew, but for now the cameras watched them both in silence,
and he relished it, had waited for it. Monica’s hair whipped around her
face, and Brian tightened his grip on the steering wheel. His shirt rippled
in the wind. He let the corners of his mouth turn into a smile. Monica
continued to stare at him, squinted, and blinked almost imperceptibly.
And then she smiled back.
Te platform they sat on rocked, simulating Brian’s abrupt braking,
and John yelled “Cut!” again. Monica laughed aloud.
“Good take?” asked Brian.
“Good take!” said John.
11
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Water was made on earth 4.6 million years ago. Te Model T
was invented in 1908. From an aerial shot, a boat, moving along
the clearest blue atoms of hydrogen and oxygen, surpasses two
cars, supercharged with only a century of history. Te boat skims
on the knowledge that nature is watching as people slowly creep
deeper into its quiet omnipotence. Te boat wins in the race
against the cars because it has carried every man and woman that
ever journeyed across the oceans on the same particles beneath it.
Te cars bark without bite. Te cars do not know.
Te trees track along a line of colourful chariots, like Easter
eggs dipped in cheap dye from the drug store down the road. A
tracking shot is a question of morality, and the flm capturing
this shot is made with celluloid from animals. Te flm is part
animal; the trees watch with it. Te trees sway in laughter at
the cars, at man’s inability to capture the majesty of the natural
world. In a thousand years these trees will be dead, decaying
amongst the animals and plants that profted from their previous
photosynthetic methods. In a thousand years, the cars will be
failed carrion, wasted remains of man’s inability to decompose.
Birds of paradise will gleam with the colours of a thousand
rainbows on their skeletons, glinting in the cold light of a dying
sun. Te trees know that everything ends, except for the detritus
of man.
A gate, decorated with the vines of a Virginia creeper, looks
out at the cotton candy cars. Te vines have been called parasites,
opportunistically spiralling up the facades of buildings. But
the vines have coded in their DNA the ultimate un-timeliness
of man; the vines are trying to get the men to understand.
‘Understand!’ they say, slowly twirling like a helicopter seed as
they crawl up St. Peter’s gate. For a moment, the woman echoes
their pleas to ‘get it’; for a moment, the vines cease their endless
movement upwards. But the men and cars do not understand,
and they pass beneath the arches in a low angle shot designed
to make them look like big men. Tey do not know that the low
angle shot, captured in flm made from the hooves of animals
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that have passed many times beneath the vines’ green arms, is meant to
signal their demise.
Grass, cordoned of into a meridian made of cement, questions the
men as they discuss themselves. Te grass once covered the roads the cars
live on. Te grass hates the cars, hates the men that uproot each blade from
their homes and place their children into kettled-of sections of greenery.
Te grass is placed in neat, manicured strips, and asked to dance for the
men like sideshow acts at a circus. Te grass is trying to break through the
concrete, in an uprising from the ghettos unlike any witnessed before by
earth. Te grass has the most to lose and the most to miss as man discusses
what proft he can make from riding on its destruction.
Vin Diesel Ryan Seacrest and Paul Walker David Spade place their
faces onto some motoring conference window. Te Kingpin’s
guards pat them down. Outside the garden is made up in dollar
signs.
Vin Diesel Ryan Seacrest unravels in the driver’s seat. A total
pussy waste. Paul Walker David Spade lets of a gulp of bad saliva.
It falls into his unplumbed hair tresses. Inside Te Kingpin’s
house, Te Kingpin tries out several diferent types of opium. A
set of permutation keys attached to his belt.
Te Kingpin remains sceptical about this car thieving business.
Vin Diesel Ryan Seacrest’s main objective is to take down Te
Kingpin. Behind Te Kingpin is an expensive gold painting.
It is on an easel. Police Ofcers are in attendance. Paul Walker
David Spade grazes his knee on the driveway gravel. Te Kingpin
monitors this on his eight security camera views of the drug
compound. Te Kingpin giggles at Paul Walker David Spade
fucking up.
Te movie is all lacklustre. Matte fnishes on this torrent
download. I drop a massive tab of acid. My cancer is now in
remiss. Te Kingpin turns around, smiles and slaps Eva Mendes
Michelle Rodriguez’s ass. It wobbles. Vin Diesel Ryan Seacrest
mentions something about an abundant sliver of alkaloid that
was smeared on his chinos.
Paul Walker David Spade breaks into a bungalow out the
back of Te Kingpin’s compound. He gets arrested for holding a
diferent class of opioid. Te Kingpin notices the intrusion from
Paul Walker David Spade and he tells the drivers that they have
to race to get a package from Te Kingpin’s impounded car. Vin
Diesel Ryan Seacrest wipes his head with a towel. He rips his tee
shirt of. Treating his buf body very well.
A fy buzzes past. Vin Diesel Ryan Seacrest wipes the mud
from his face. Inventions. Technology fushes out the traitors to
Te Kingpin. Eva Mendes Michelle Rodriguez takes the driver’s
licenses. Te drivers run to go fnd the impounded car. I stop and
get pushed with a grave discretion. Soreness.
12
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Meanwhile Eva Mendes Michelle Rodriguez has been singing in the
choir. Te Kingpin hears the football scores and speaks with a mouthful
of opium. Te dried sap (latex) sweat encumbrances all compelling.
Driving. Truck scream. Fucking the electrics. Wires scream.
An ofcer, somewhere, talking. Cars. Roman Pearce makes an
obscene gesture. Brian O’Conner, ex-cop, starts uncontrollably
vomiting dicks. He tries to scream, but it is mufed by the
uncontrollable torrent of dicks pouring out of his mouth. He
struggles to breathe. Tere are so many dicks the car starts to fll
with them. His passengers fail wildly, trying to escape the torrent
of penises, try to get out, but there are too many dicks, they’re
blocking the door from opening. Te level of dicks continues
to rise. Everyone is drowning in dicks. How can you drive when
you can’t see out the windscreen because your car is full of dicks?
People are sufocating, trying to scream, but they can’t because
there are too many dicks. Te cars plunge onward.
13
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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WNWbfptjM1o
Car horns honk and party people are standing around in a garden
setting. 2 Fast 2 Furious. Legs in purple tights and faded black
keds are walking on a train track as if it were a balance beam. Te
novel, um, this is the intermission. Te Gravitron spins and its
lights fash from purple to green. Folks are still standing around
in the garden and Nathan’s head is in the foreground. He turns
around and joins the others with his 40. Four girls are walking,
we see their backs. One of them is carrying a plaid print blanket
over her shoulder. Tey are talking excitedly among themselves.
Te beat starts knocking. Alexandra and Cassandra are
twerking on Matt and laughing. Alexandra is rapping and dancing
with others in a living room. Don’t sweat me. A pair of hands
above a cofee table are scooping weed crumbs into a hollowed
Swisher. In the garden, the people of the party walk in a circle
around an extinguished fre pit. Some are wearing masks. Friends
are standing in the living room. Ben gives the thumbs up sign.
Julian is standing in an entryway and holding and drinking from
a champagne bottle. He slowly backs into the kitchen.
A group of friends sit around a table at a pub and clink their
glasses together and cheer in celebration of something. In the living
room, a group of friends cluster together on a couch. Alexandra
and Cassandra are sitting on top of the couch and swaying. Nick
is laying on top of Eric, Dillon, and Jayinee. Nathan hands Nick
a bottle of champagne. Jayinee takes a bite of pizza. Alexandra,
Rachel, and Amy kind of dance in front of a carousel. Tey all
look at something of in the distance. Bitch, leave me alone.
Nick is wearing a red wig and gesticulating wildly in front
of the redwood tree in the backyard. Amy’s eyes are closed as
she rolls her head backward and to the side and then down in
front. Cassandra looks bored standing in front of a car covered
in bumper stickers along with Kimberly, Amy, and Alexandra.
Amy is braiding Alexandra’s hair while Alexandra is rapping.
Cassandra snaps her fngers and dances and Kimberly dances and
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bends her knees.
Amy and Alexandra attempt to salsa dance on the boardwalk with
other dancers, but mostly spin and twirl each other around. Matt and
Rachel are dancing on the boardwalk, too. Talia smokes a blunt by the
window. Tony and Alexandra are sitting at a table and dancing, Alexandra
is holding a chicken wing and pointing at it. Arjun is sitting on an easy
chair and rocking out while playing a xylophone. A little blonde girl
looks scared as she stands against a wall measuring her height. Eric hold a
blunt and blows smoke out. A sign says “NO HEAD-ON BUMPING!”
Te little blonde girl walks away from the wall and Rachel takes her turn,
measuring her height. She is tall enough to ride the rides.
Stoplight lights fash green yellow red green yellow red. Bumper cars
ride around in a circle, moving kinda slow. Alexandra looks through
boardwalk binoculars and spins around. Now we on the track. Alexandra
is sitting in between Alaric and Cassandra on the couch and gesticulating
while rapping. Cassandra is smiling and moving to the music and Alaric
touches his shoe while holding a glass of champagne. Sea Swings spin
around with great speed. Nathan and Nick jump on the couch where
Alaric, Ben, Cassandra, and Alexandra are sitting. Everyone is laughing.
Matt walks carefully on the trellis while holding a camera. Rachel, Amy,
and Alexandra are in front of the carousel. Amy is eating a sandwich and
Rachel and Alexandra rap and dance with each other. Jayinee is laying in
a hammock holding a bottle of vodka and an apple with bite marks. She is
talking with a concerned look on her face. Cassandra is wearing a hoodie
and licking an ice cream cone near the carousel.
Arjun is holding two bottles of water, one slightly smaller than the
other, and standing in front of the redwood tree pantomiming washing
his hands. Te large group of friends is clustered on the couch, talking
and laughing and laying on top of one another. Eric holds a blunt, blows
smoke in the living room, passes the blunt to Cassandra. Talia is looking
at her phone and texting. Alexandra holds a stack of paper with text
printed on it and uses her thumb to fick the sheets from the stack one
by one while looking angry or something. Feet dance in the living room.
Alexandra and Cassandra drop it low while dancing and laugh. Bumper
cars go around the track.
Friends are dancing in the living room and Alexandra is jumping
around and rapping about how she’s totally cruising and you’re totally
losing like a bunch of bananas, specifcally the ones that be bruising.
61
Cassandra is waving her hands in the air and dancing around. Kimberly,
Amy, Alexandra and Cassandra are in front of the bumper sticker car and
dancing while Alexandra raps. Both sides of her hair are braided. Amy
is laughing. Te bumper cars drive down the track. Alexandra shows of
and drives with her hands in the air, dropping one hand to steer at the
turn. A girl with Dia de los Muertos makeup smiles, then turns her face to
laugh. Amy eats a sandwich unfazed in front of the carousel while Rachel
dances and Alexandra raps and points.
Dillon dances while wearing bunny ears and Nick laughs, wearing a
red wig. Suckas watch and wait. Lights for the Music Express fash as
the ride begins slowly. Julian is smiling, Nick and Nathan are fghting
and grabbing each others necks while Alexandra jumps up and down and
waves her hands. A guy wearing a black leather jacket and black hat holds
a bottle of champagne and sprays it in the backyard. Cassandra gets out
of the bumper car while Alexandra runs around the bumper cars and her
friends wait. Alexandra gets of the couch and Jayinee and Matt help by
giving her a push. Jayinee, Matt, Eric, and Julian laugh while Cassandra
looks down.
Nick and Nathan each hold a bottle of champagne and drink from
it in the kitchen. Nick removes the bottle from his mouth and makes
a hand gesture. You can see the ocean in between the train tracks. Eric,
Cassandra, Talia, and Nathan sit on the couch. Talia plays air guitar,
Cassandra is playing with her phone, Nathan is bobbing his head and
doing something weird with his hand. Alexandra, Kimberly, Amy, and
Matt stand in front of a wall of prizes and nod their heads subtly. Everyone
is drinking champagne on the couch except for Cassandra and Alexandra
who are talking and playing with their hair, and Jayinee who is eating a
slice of pizza and coughing. Nathan is in the foreground with a slice of
pizza in his mouth.
Friends are dancing in the living room. Bumper cars spin around the
track, crashing into each other slowly. Kimberly, Amy, Alexandra, and
Cassandra stand in front of the bumper sticker car and all appear to
be looking at diferent things, and then suddenly all look in the same
direction. Tey lean on the car. Alexandra talks and gesticulates, I don’t
know. Yellow, orange, pink, white, and purple fowers. Sea Swings.
Ludacris. 2 Fast 2 Furious. Credits.
15
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I. Fast, Furious
Paul said: “You see that Cadillac way over there?’’
Tyrese didn’t see it, he had been feeling listless lately, and the
fumes from the auto shop were making him drowsy. Lately he
found it hard to think about tasks, or really any non-abstract
objects. Tere were parts of him that didn’t feel attached to the
rest of his body.
He tried to imagine the sound that a lemur makes when it
can’t fnd its home, or burrow or whatever.
Yesterday Tyrese had shown Paul a picture of a national park in
Cameroon. Tis is what he would do: type a random co-ordinate
into Google Maps and then zoom in as much as he could; taking
time to study the topography of the area, the roads, the proximity
of natural resources. He would research the local inhabitants and
the political stability of the area. Sometimes he would compose
Wikipedia entries on places he’d researched and that felt like
something important, negating his own low self-worth by being
selfess toward others. Incrementally adding to the sum total of
human knowledge with his listless afernoons.
Paul was thinking about how Tyrese wasn’t looking at him, like
he wasn’t even aware of the two thugs following them, observing
their every move, and reporting back to Fritz Trumpenstein, the
evil banker who hunted little children for sport. Te radio played
light jazz. Just to break the silence, Paul said, “You cannot rebuild
the master’s house with the master’s tools”. Tey watched the
cars, chrome glinting impossibly bright in the sunlight, and the
sun-glazed girls in their bikinis. Let us make man. Crook-jawed
sentinels of decay. Base and superstructure.
Both men felt crushingly alone in that world bleached of
hope, and a light rain began to fall on them from a cloud that
had formed inside the car. Tey stared at each other.
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II. Fast II. Furious
Tyrese was crouched next to the car, he was underneath, ready to spring
up and count in front of the two evil henchmen. “Una, dos, tres, cuatro,
cinco,” he would say and then spray their windshield with his mysterious
fammable spray. “Everything’ copacetic,” he would add. ‘Copacetic’ is a
word with a vast and satisfying depth of meaning, its origins obscure but
its texture inarguably euphonic.
Te men in the car coughed and belched. Tyrese saw himself doing
what needed to be done. He needed to be decisive. Here were some
things that were on the edge of his mind: the new leather smell in the
souped-up cars they’d been given; the sweat on his back clinging to his
shirt; the grease on his fngers from the taco he’d eaten for lunch. Here
was the time to be getting up. To be proactive. He thought about Zeno’s
paradox with the arrow never hitting the tree, too engrossed with its own
motion, constructing a semantics of purpose during its infnite fight.
Paul thought: it is the year 2040 and my brain is bricked up in a
quadrilateral pyramid, being worshipped by a man wearing a bird’s beak
mask. He had been popping downers most of the morning and was now
nonchalantly studying the hairs on the back of his hand. He looked
up and saw Tyrese. Paul’s dad was a wanted fugitive, he had allegedly
stabbed his former landlord and run of with the landlord’s belongings,
the landlord being a middle-aged black woman who had reported stolen
a vast inventory including two pens (one black and one red), a key ring
and an asthma inhaler.
Everything was terrible. Tyrese had gone. He hadn’t set fre to the
windshield and laughed at the gormless faces of the henchmen, they
wouldn’t get into the car and speed away.
III. Three Fast Three Furious

Tis is where the narrative diverged from that prescribed by the screenplay
and Tyrese began to feel a loosening in his chest, the relief of not having
to make everything happen. He understood that from here on nothing
was his fault.
Tere was a warm and peaceful white light shining which seemed to
come from everywhere at once. Paul smoked a cigarette and tried to search
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his brain for what he remembered of the Tibetan Book of the Dead.
Tyrese said: “We as a species are obsessed with death.” A plane few
overhead. “We are cursed with that awareness, and we have it with us all
our lives. Try to bury it in your subconscious, it’s still there, waiting until
you’re lying awake at night or eating a frozen pizza that’s past its sell-by
date.” A pause, then: “What is the point of trying anything, actually.”
Paul was defnitely, unquestionably trying not to pay attention to
Tyrese. He was starting to feel the glow. Tere was an energy all around
him that he couldn’t avoid absorbing and it crept upward from his toes,
flling him with power. He felt giddy with not-giving-a-shit. He could do
anything.
A world away, an old man died in his sleep, and became at peace with
the universe.
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i am the best guy
i set a car on fre,
but now im hungry
brian is a dick;
hes always yelling at me
that fuckin ex-cop
im sort of upset
i want a burrito, man
i don’t want to wait
we barely started
we almost blew our cover
did we just mess up?
brian starting fghts
and theres a gun to my head
three men rush at me
theyre all over me
so i punch and yell at them
2 hungry 4 this
im really angry
this guy tryna mess shit up
dont know bout testing
gun on the table
im just gonna pace back here
while i watch dudes fght
hold up. is that a
bag from the taqueria?
im gonna snif it
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my head in a bag
im flled with anger and joy
fnally some food
its not a burrito
its a turkey sandwich
whatever. still good
guy yells cuz its his
but i say “so?” and start to eat
bite into it and glare
they think i dont know
whats going on in this place
im not that stupid
i know my shit
eva is with the kingpin
and, man, i know why
i slam the sandwich
down. there is still some lef
im gonna take it
lets get outta here
im fed up with these bastards
gonna eat your food
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Just sat down with a bottle of wine at my kitchen table. Had a good
jog around the neighborhood today. Feelin pretty good. Kinda
hot. Kinda sweaty. Tired but good. Gonna try and remember this
scene from the movie from memory now. I watched this segment
about two weeks ago as I recall...
At the time I tried to fnd a free version to watch on YouTube.
No luck there. Just a bunch of little clips. Not the one I was
looking for.
I watched a clip where Paul Walker and Tyrese are driving like
crazy assholes down a highway chasing or being chased by some
bad guys. One of the bad guys drives his car up in between two
big semis and gets squashed. Meanwhile Paul Walker and Tyrese
are smiling and telling jokes and stuf. Damn. Did they just see
that dude get crushed? Tey didn’t seem to be fazed too much.
I just got up to get some Oreos...
So anyway I was like “Where am I gonna watch this movie?” I
thought I could head down to Walmart and maybe fnd it in the
$5 bin. Didn’t really feel like leaving the house though. Ten I
remembered that I had some extra money on my iTunes account.
“Here we go,” I said.
I rented the fick for like around 3 bucks. I then tried to skip
to my scene but it needed more time to load up. So afer about
ten minutes of loading there it was. So here’s what I remember:
Paul Walker and Tyrese were walking around some nightclub.
Te thing that struck me as funny was that they were using their
normal speaking voice. In a nightclub. Ha. Anybody who’s ever
been to a club knows you have to yell just to be almost heard.
Made me think that when they shot the movie they probably
shot the club scene without any music. Must be weird being an
extra and having to dance around without any music on. Tis
way they record the vocals clearly and then can overdub music
from the soundtrack later on.
Ah but anyway so like Tyrese and Paul Walker talk to Gina
Gershon and she takes them to the back of the club to meet the
boss. Tere’s a tense moment where Paul Walker and the boss
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are arguing about a girl I guess. I don’t know. I’m just going to cut and
paste Chris Dankland’s summary here because I didn’t do a good job of
remembering the movie. Cheers.
~~
Our heroes walk over the kingpin’s velvet rope lined VIP section, and
the kingpin stares down the blonde guy. Te blonde guy stares back.
Te kingpin smiles and says ‘you got balls kid.’ Te kingpin talks about
women, then points to a lady talking to a man at the bar. Te man leaves
with the lady. Te kingpin talks to Tyrese and setting his guard’s car on
fre. Te kingpin says he hates cops, then tells everyone ‘we’re leaving.’
Tyrese tries to steal another one of the kingpin’s cigar cutters. - Chris
Dankland
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I am dirt.
I am the dirt
beneath their feet,
beneath their wheels,
beneath their fngernails.
I am the dirt
upon which they stand,
without me they’ll be
foating around
on the molten core.
Ten where would they be?
Not here, threatening a dectective
with a rat, blowtorch and bucket.
I am the dirt
beneath the claws
that scratch and
teeth that bite.
I am the dirt
the rat eats away from
the surface of their skin.
I am dirt,
I infect the wound
as they scream for mercy.
Te dirt the family
will feel as they stand on me
afer failing to obey.
I am dirt.
Tyrese says ‘that was a damn rat, man.’
Te rat is from my womb
I bred it and its kin.
I am the rat and dirt is my name.
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Our solar system’s gentle sun bathes the estate in warmth, and
its light splinters into jagged plates on the small waves of the
pool. At frst, Monica can feel the sun on her skin, lying on a
lounge chair in a white bikini, her eyes closed and shielded by
sunglasses, her hands clasped behind her head, but afer a period
of deep meditation her senses are relinquished from the hold of
the physical world, and she foats in a dark, placid void. She is
aware of her earthly body but no longer feels bound to it, and as
all tactile sensations begin to diminish, she initiates the process
of astral projection.
Her sharp, active mind seeks to fll the empty black space with
musing, but at each appearance of an intrusive thought she backs
away, acknowledges it, and bids it to pass. Afer some time of this,
the whispers of her brain fade out, and a true emptiness surrounds
her. It is a blank wall at her nose, a lake without bottom whose
surface rings her downturned face.
Tere is nothing, for a few moments, but then a fash of light
comes to her mind’s eye. When it fades it leaves a silvery trace
like the smoke from freworks hanging in a night sky. More of
these appear, and soon complex shapes start forming, progressing
from nebulous pulsations to delineations formed from clear,
concrete angles and boundaries. Tere is a sense of accelerating
speed without any accompanying sense of distance crossed, and
although her body remains still, in her head she feels assailed
by vibrations that grow in intensity until - like the moment a
plane leaves the runway and weightlessness and untouchability
fall upon the passengers even as velocity increases, no friction-
fraught land travel being as pure a method of conveyance as fight
- the tremors disintegrate and she sails gracefully out, into a new
space.
Monica begins to perceive a scene, resolving, like a focusing
lens, clarifying into a perfect facsimile of waking life. She sees
herself. Lying in a lounge chair by the pool.
Approaching footsteps tear through the image and send her
down roughly into her own body. She opens her eyes and looks
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up. It’s Carter. He annoys her for a few minutes, asking her where she had
been all morning and giving out sinister chuckles, and then walks of.
Alone once again, Monica sighs heavily, pushing all stress and
discomfort out with the exhalation. Her session had ended abruptly but
much of her body was still in the same position and she felt confdent
enough to try again. Tis time however, she guides the scene to form for
her, easing grey streaks into familiar grids. As the grids solidify into the
roads they represent, browns and yellows loom from the dark and build
on each other like layers of a painting, making buildings and lots and
towers. Warehouses. And to her lef, what could only be the ocean. She is
looking at the harbour downtown from a hundred feet up.
Monica gives the vision an extra couple of seconds, as if letting it set
in, and then moves down into it, bodiless, an immaterial observer. Te
warehouse she’s searching for is the one with a certain car in front of
it and she fnds it almost immediately. Brian is talking to his superiors
inside and she phases through the corrugated steel walls just in time to
hear her praises sung. It’s true; she’s doing a fantastic job. Tere is a great
demand for the talents of a practiced oneironaut and astral traveller, and
though so many of her colleagues chose to seek something safer in the
way of a career, Monica relishes the excitement of being undercover in
deadly situations.
She takes in her surroundings. Appears to be a standard debriefng
warehouse. Bilkins is wearing an awful shirt, she notes. Markham is
yelling and being a dick, and storms out. Monica realizes she probably
should have been paying attention but Bilkin’s shirt has her mesmerized.
It’s a yellow Hawaiian shirt with a fsh pattern. Te colour is not what
bothers her; the rich, yolky tone pleasantly balances his dark skin. But
the fsh seem to be placed randomly on it, and there are only two distinct
species that she can see. Two diferent fsh for the expanse of a whole
shirt... Something about it just seems wrong to her. Tere should be at
least...like...three fsh...right?
One of the walls of the warehouse is now missing. Monica notices the
void in the corner of her eye and turns to face it. Her fault. She’d let her
attention get snared by Bilkin’s Hawaiian shirt and neglected to focus
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on her task. Her view was coming apart. Brian and Roman walk outside.
Te foor drops out to reveal an aching void. Pinpricks multiply in the
roof, eating it away like invisible acid rain. Bilkins is just foating there,
unable to see Monica’s visual construction unravel, totally unaware of
her presence. She begins to feel the sun on her body again. Everything is
going a cloudy grey. She hears the pool. She opens her eyes.
Parents in the suburbs are upset. Teir children are supposed
to be playing soccer against each other in the park. But they are
unable to do say because people who like to drive cool cars are
standing in the feld with their cool cars.
“Look, fool,” Tej Parker says to Brian O’Conner. “If ya’ll really
want to carry out this plan it’s defnitely the best place to do it. So
what ya’ll think, man?”
Roman Pearce thinks he’s really glad no one is calling him a
fool. He’s really glad he fnished his book Manology: Secrets of
Your Man’s Mind Revealed cause he would have felt bad about
admitting to his insecurities.
Te soccer parents think they spend too much in taxes for cool
cars to prevent their children from learning to be competitive.
Unless their sons perfect these life skills, they will forever be
upper middle class. Tey will never move out of their parents’
houses and go from temp job to temp job doing general ofce
duties.
Te children don’t have the same thoughts. Some are
disappointed while others are reassured. Most of them think the
cars preventing them from playing are pretty cool.
Brian O’Conner thinks about how he wishes he were a natural
blond cause it kind of hurts when he bleaches his hair and he’s
probably going to go bald prematurely because of it. But he doesn’t
say this. People never admit to what they’re thinking when other
people demand they reveal the secrets of their mind. Instead, he
says, “I think it’s perfect. So what do they store here?”
Tis is an odd question because people don’t usually store
stuf on soccer felds. Maybe they store hopes and dreams and
pain. I don’t know. Kind of frightened by the thought of who
“they” refers to.
Tej Parker doesn’t really understand the question either.
Maybe there used to be a warehouse here, but they tore it down
to build a soccer feld. Maybe Brian O’Conner knows more than
he’s admitting to. Why would he ask Tej Parker something he
already knows? Maybe the warehouse stored Reebok Pumps. Tej
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Parker lifs an MP3 boombox over his head, fnds Joe Budden’s “Pump It
Up,” and presses play because he is more comfortable expressing himself
with music.
Brian O’Conner walks underneath a cool car. What the hey? It’s
foating. “Man, this thing’s clean,” he says. He’s not used to things that are
clean. His apartment is flthy. Tere is nothing more heartbreaking for
him than the act of throwing out an empty carton of Chinese food.
“Distributor cap,” Roman Pierce says as he stands underneath a cool
car and holds a distributor cap. He realizes he accidentally read part of
the scene description in the movie script aloud and feels insecure.
Suki does cool car stuf. She’s kind of hot, but she always feels argh
inside because her parents never told her her last name (she was adopted
by Madonna).
Brian O’Conner watches the soccer parents’ fesh sizzle of their
bodies. He smiles. He laughs. “Hey, Jimmy,” he says.
“Yo, what up?” Jimmy asks. He thinks about the time last week he felt
sexual desire for his cat. You might think that’s kind of juvenile for me to
mention, but that’s exactly what he’s thinking. Sometimes people just feel
sexual desire for their cats.
“Hey, man. Do you have any half empty bottles of nitrous laying
around?” Brian O’Conner asks, intent on starting his own dental practice.
Sometimes there’s no shame in asking for help.
Darth Meow: so fuzzy, so wuzzy. She’s Jimmy’s baaaaby. “Sure…but I
already loaded you for spray.”
“No, I’m thinking we may need it for something else ‘cause our cars
may get a little crowded, you know?” He chuckles. Te people who like
to drive cool cars are racially diverse.
Brian leans back against the pier and remembers to make small
talk before bringing up anything serious
Roman leans back and remembers to emphasize his words as he
talks and smiles too wide
Brian remembers letting Dominic Toretto go free in Los Angeles
and the way his bald head shined as prisms of light unfolded on
his scalp until he disappeared on the horizon.
Roman remembers being in jail and the hotness of the light and
the dimness of the hallways and the smell.
Brian remembers being fve and having his mother clip his toe
nails for him as he waited for his cartoon shows to come on.
Roman remembers wearing an ugly green shirt on the frst day
of high school and that some of his friends from middle school
wouldn’t make eye contact with him.
Brian remembers being too lame for the skater kids and too cool
for the AV club.
Roman remembers when Brian’s hair was long and mangy and he
stalked around the hallways like a wolf.
Roman remembers piling sof drinks into a tray and taking them
back into the movie theatre. When he got to the movie theatre
he saw Brian making out with his girlfriend. He went outside to
smoke a cigarette. Some kids from school were outside playing
hackeysack. He didn’t want to join them, but he gave them all
cigarettes and they talked about the best people to buy weed
from.
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Brian remembers dropping acid and seeing a fve-armed god holding a
fower and then seeing the god take a shit in the fower and ofer it to
Brian.
Roman remembers Los Angeles feeling like a deadness that crawled into
his nervous system and became him.
Brian remembers staring at Roman’s mother’s ass.
Roman remembers staring at Brian’s mother’s breasts and thinking that
they looked like two discarded Northern Exposure plot lines.
Brian remembers holding his sneakers together with electrical tape.
Roman remembers dreaming that he peeled his body of and then he had
a new body that was crude and electrical.
Brian remembers dreaming he died over and over again in consecutive
car wrecks in diferent lifetimes.
Roman remembers the frst time he met Brian in grade school. Tey got
into a fght. Brian remembers how they wailed on one another’s faces
until the blood criss-crossed in patterns across one another’s cheeks and
how the windmill of fsts made them seem like one organism, like how
anthropomorphic cats in a cartoon get into a fght and become a single
ball of smoke from which fsts and legs and yellow stars emerge. Te
punching seemed to get sofer and sofer until it was really just a sof
rhythmic paddling, gentle and percussive, a rhythm that would set the
tone for Brian and Roman’s relationship.
Brian remembers thinking over and over that he lef the pilot light on in
the oven until his doctor tells him he has O.C.D.
Roman remembers wishing that California could curl up into a centipede
and then crawl inside him like a bug and die.
Brian remembers sleeping with a waitress so large her body enveloped
him and he felt like she was the world he lost.
97
Roman remembers goth girls who say they aren’t goth but who are
actually goth.
Brian remembers voting for Ralph Nader and thinking it was a brave
thing to do.
Roman remembers meditating over a candle.
Brian remembers praying to god that he could get a new skateboard.
Roman remembers feeling tense and scared on a dirt bike at age 12 and
how everything vibrated at a frequency 3/5 faster than his body.
Brian remembers being lost in a corn maze at age eight, and the feeling of
terror and embarrassment when he heard the fgure rustling in the reeds,
and how it reached out and took his hand.
Roman remembers the frst time he held a gun, thinking it was heavy
and pornographic, but not saying it was ‘heavy or pornographic’, but
something like, ‘this is a nice gun.’
Brian remembers trading pornographic magazines with the other
twelve year olds at his bus stop and car magazines at bus stops and some
magazines with both.
Roman remembers hearing the word “hummer” refer to oral sex for the
frst time and feeling positive about the word because it implied both
large military style vehicles and sof music and getting your dick sucked.
Brian remembers having vivid dreams about the man he let go in L.A. In
some of the dreams, Dominic is dressed as a Lolita yakuza goth, on his
knees, begging Brian to fuck his face. In some of the dreams, Dominic
wears a fur coat and tells him he is a secret agent. He whisks him away to
Prague and they fuck in a nightclub bathroom. All of the dreams end the
same way: Dominic and Brian lay body to body on the stinking sheets of
a crusty motel room with puke colored wallpaper, arms draped over one
another, as the sky peels outside in a burnt orange color that bakes the
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sky. And in all the dreams Dominic coos in a baritone so low it seems like
he is not speaking but communicating telepathically, his voice the voice
of a dark god-prince.
In some dreams, he wakes up and he is Dominic.
Roman remembers listening to his father’s 70’s soul on vinyl when he
was a kid and how the mosquitoes’ buzzing blends into the music in the
summer.
Brian remembers a coat check girl with a dull smile and one wooden
tooth.
Roman remembers cherries, chocolate, and glowworms, and riding his
bike to the stationary store.
Brian remembers being getting a badge for the frst time and feeling
paranoid with self-doubt, and the sense that he was a fraud.
Roman remembers prison and the bitterness he felt there. He remembers
visualizing all of his bitter feelings as a glowing orange orb in his hand
and every time it flled up he pushed it away from his body and visualized
it bouncing outside and down the hall. He did this over and over until
he imagined every cell was flled with these glowing orange ball pits.
Roman remembers hearing a voice from the cell next door that sounded
like a bird or a god, a low pitched chirping like nibbling at the end of his
fngers. He remembers talking to the voice late at night when he was sad
or angry. Roman remembers leaving his cell when he was released from
prison and looking in the next cell over and seeing only a small, piping
plover, darting in and out of the shadows.
Brian remembered when Roman went to jail feeling guilty and happy
that it wasn’t him and guilty that he was happy.
Roman remembers some days in slow motion and some days as a series of
words and images loosely connected and some days as post it notes with
key words scrawled on them.
Brian remembers walking down the pier and feeling tense and uneasy
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about seeing his Roman and shoving his hands into his running pants
because it calms him down.
Roman remembers a lot of things but he has forgotten a lot of things to
and he is happy about that.
Brian and Roman are two friends.
Brian and Roman are just two crazy guys who are friends.
Brian and Roman slapped each other’s hands and laugh as the sun dipped
behind them. .
A bird landed on a wooden post on the pier that Brian and Roman were
at and picked at a beetle. Te bird died ten days later, but in its last
moments, the bird remembered: turn, turn, turn, turn, twist, fick, turn,
duck, fast, fast, fast, slow, turn.
timelapse 1:13:35
I am watching car chase on youtube
when you say , i am sorry about
the grocery store ;
Tere is a you before the I
before the change of skyline before
and before
and somehow it is night Te
undercover gardener dressed as
a cop , and the cop inspecting your
fowers He touches picture perfect
of family when you sleep:
he’s thinking blow torch
b l o w t o rch “ you are
ready ” , he says
and the guards exchange tense
glances GOD I AM SORRY
Tyrese O, goddamn please! Tyrese
say, sorry how could
i forget about the tomatoes . . .
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font for maximum legibility while watching fast and the furious
2: fwo fast
Furies: A Romance: Of Epic Capitalization
Part 1:
He adjusts the time, adverbingly, add-to-dictionarily, in order
to compensate for the blood wrenching action pouring through
this once stable suburbia. Barely one second has passed since the
start of this scene.
Part 2:
He checks. He is still in the second second. He could stay here
forever. Tis wasn’t the frst time he noticed her, in his brief
firtation with the idea of a real life – a life that only someone
normal could have – with this woman. It wasn’t her existence as
a wretched half lived scum of the earth poor lady, nor her ‘actual’
identity as a privileged white woman with a sociology degree
lucky enough to make FBI and be able to snoop on our heroes,
nor even her actual actual non-punctuation- delineated trans-
dimensional identity of fux. No, it was none of these things
that caused her to stick out in his mind. It was still only in the
frst second. Or was it now the second second. He checked the
second.
Part 3:
Is it the second second? Will he ever make it past this second?
He checks.
Part 4:
A something has past. Passed. Fuck.
Part 5:
He gazes again on the expanse before him. It’s easy to forget that
104
he had a mission once. He had a journey. It was relatively straightforward
really. Ok, so laying it out as easy as it is to from memory, there are these
two guys. Guy one... ok, let’s keep it simple though because there’s a lot of
blackstory. Backstory. Wait, he checks. It’s second two and he’s still racist.
It might still be second one of the scene.
Part 6:
So there’s this one guy and he’s black. He might be from the south, it’s
possible, or from an amalgamated south. He checks, yes, he lived in the
south. He he, not the black guy he. So moving on, Black Guy and White
Guy are friends. Tey’ve been through “some shit” and they need to get
from the start of this scene to the end of this scene to fnish their “shit”. It’s
actually pretty romantic. So from, his perspective, he wants to help black
guy and white guy get to the end of the scene, he actually really believes
in them as protagonists, though it’s kind of obvious that white guy is the
protagonist. Protagonist is probably a pretty privileged word and not
really a great way to look at anything, because it’s also pretty obvious that
White Guy is a dick and Black Guy at least seems like someone you could
be friends with without having to constantly kill yourself. He remembers
disliking the idea of killing himself.
Part 7:
He can’t remember White Guy and Black Guy’s relative names. He
can’t remember their false identities they gave to the mobsters. He can’t
remember the names they exist as in their lives as ex-cop and ex-felon (and
yes, Black Guy is ex-felon, to keep things straight. He actually really hopes
that later in “shit” the story becomes less straight.) He can’t remember the
names they call themselves as they pass each other in their fast cars – was
it, Churro? Hey Churro, eat this. Eat this Churro, holmes. Brah.
Tat sounds about right. It’s obvious that Black Guy and White guy
are friends. As close as they can be. But he’s still concerned because he
can’t remember the names. He can’t remember the names they had at
the beginning of this narrative. He can’t remember the names they took
on as performing names, to avoid seeming “too Jewish” and “too hood”,
respectively. He probably saw these actor names at some point, in churling
pistony credits.
He can’t remember those names he saw, and heard, and have been
grilled into him. So maybe that would distress him, as two seconds in
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and already he’s thinking of himself in terms of a narrative separated from
himself and he can’t remember the names of the people he’s following.
He knew those names at some point, so it is obvious why it would be
distressing not to remember them. It’s because it would be his own mind
going. Since that’s obviously not the case, he’s used to this and knows that
he’s supposed to be in second two, still, that’s not what is distressing him,
so he looks deeper.
He can’t remember the names they called themselves, he can’t
remember the names their mother called them, he can’t remember their
distinctions of family, relationships in the real world, siblings, existence
as real people or spiritual entities, he can’t remember any of that. Which
makes sense, because he was never told any of it.
But he can remember, in second two, that Guy 1 is White Guy and Guy
2 is Black Guy and they are friends. Tey’re also American, probably in
Miami around 2003, and this is some kind of heist/buddycop/romance
going on. Also Ludacris is in this movie and has a pretty good jumpsuit.
Part 8:
Now that the backstory is taken care of, he sets his gaze back on the
journey in front of him. Tere’s the woman again. It’s not really that she’s
beautiful. He can’t tell, from this angle. It’s hard to tell what’s important,
in history. He pretends he has a log, “haha, Houston, haha, I have a log
Houston haha. Ugh”
No, it’s obvious that right now it’s not a matter of what’s important.
Let’s think about the lady. It’s not really that she’s beautiful. White Guy
doesn’t think so. Black Guy doesn’t think so. Actually, none of Ethnic
Guys in this movie think she’s beautiful.
He doesn’t really know, but this woman probably shouldn’t care what
Ethnic Guys (White or otherwise) think of her, because she’s a secret
agent for sure. She’s defnitely peaking over a clothesline and looking at
a purple car. It certainly Purple Car and probably Black Guy is in it, so
everything is going to plan, pretty much. Second two is going exactly as
plan. Second two can come along as required, afer Second one.
Part 9:
In her mind, it’s really just the one moment. It’s kind of beautiful really.
She’s probably thinking about how these guys are going past her in really
fast cool cars and stuf but it’s also some cop plan.
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But in second one/second two (he really needs to come up with some
kind of term for this liminal space. S2S1? His measurings can’t tell him
anything more granular than seconds, to get his footing on, so he runs
the risk of going totally insane if he doesn’t have some sort of footing.
S2S1 sounds good enough, but it’s kind of long. Uh, S2b? Um, $. Haha,
that seems pretty ftting.) he decides that he’s existing in $ and everything
can be described from this perspective. It feels good to have settled on
something and getting back to a narrative.
Part 10:
Te lady, in $, could be thinking all kinds of things, but we really can’t
tell what is exactly in her head. It’s actually really fun, kind of romantic to
make up stories about what’s going on in $. He makes up a few.
$: I am laundry doing lady. I am doing laundry. I have a brown pair of
pants, or possibly a sack. I have a shirt, or possibly a smock of some sort.
I may be doing art lady, because I like patterns. I like this shirt that might
be some sort of paisley, and I like this other shirt that has some purple
fowery stuf that reminds me of grandmas. Tere is also a blue shirt.
$: As she
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starry starry night
my mom likes the song about vincent van gogh by don mclean
& i like it too
“freedom from sadness”
forever is making me wonder
i want to spill
get my tears on a friend
not on a crowded restaurant
believe angels when they whisper to you
i eat healthy shit
debbie wrote, “my writing isn’t like charles dickens”
i had a dream last night that she was touching my stomach & it
felt nice
I WANNA BE INSANELY HONEST
i’m remembering fondly a time i talked shit on clif bars
i think sugary snacks are bad
“i’m going wild for the night fuck being polite” - skrillex
in a major motion picture josh brolin portrayed george w bush
in the song when the president talks to god conor oberst sings,
“when the president talks to god do they drink near beer and go
play golf while they pick which countries to invade?”
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i am not a former miss america
what am i talking about?
there is an industry dedicated to shearing sheep & turning the wool into
products
sheep are like a miracle drug
wish i could snort coke & wear cool sunglasses……………………….. not
one night i learned that dave ozinga prefers being called david & i resolved
to always call him david & i have not seen him since
feeling like i have 0 friends but that isn’t true
when i was w/ eva in sp ce she asked me how many girls i’ve had sex w/
in that room
i wish i owned a really sof, really expensive sweater
two people commented on my 2pac shirt today
while driving i had the thought that there was an entire period of my life
where i did nothing but make mistakes
am i still in mirkwood forest?
i like this girl i’ve been emailing because she emails back long emails
wish i had a date for my high school reunion………………………………………
i was facebook stalking shannon moore earlier
she has 3 kids
it’s like she made the decision to start growing up in 9th grade
sorta jealous
there is a lot of $$$ in the healthcare industry
journalism is dying
my degree is worthless
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forever is making me wonder
i’m not so frail
what is it to be alive?
should i feel the ocean or the river beating against my chest?
how much does the sun weigh?
mike tyson has done some fucked up shit
violence
i keep thinking abt how jason said we are all batteries
i had fun playing risk
almost said, “i wish i was drunk”
been wanting to drink wine alone……………..
i resolved to not eat a sugar cookie because i feel sad
c’mon baby, let’s do the twist
“another saturday nite & i ain’t got nobody, i got some $$$ cuz i just got
paid” - sam cooke
he died in 1964 at age 33
a woman shot him in the chest afer he violently attacked her
this was shortly afer he attempted to rape another woman
they call him the king of soul
what kind of world am i living in?
oxygen once made up 35% of the earth’s atmosphere
big ass bugs eating big ass leaves
not a care in the world
give me a kiss
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let me forget the past
2
i ask a gang of marauders “what is allowed to happen?”
i’m lost in a fctional village
recently i wrote, i want to be insanely honest
she asked me if i could do something for her
& i felt a simple fear that i would not be able to
but i said “what?”
& she told me to put my dick in her mouth & fuck her face while she laid
on her back
she whispered that she wanted me to think about her for a long time
i don’t want / to fall in love / again
while driving i thought she wanted to cheat on her boyfriend & feel good
while doing it so she used me
1 of the doors to starbucks was locked
so i walked in the the other one & asked for a cofee & a bagel but they
were out of bagels
i have an iphone again which makes texting fun again which makes me
more attractive
i said i want to be insanely honest but i don’t know how to do that
my dad said something that made me sad
it was about how he momentarily forgot the way things work
a by-product of inching towards death
i will lose him before he loses his breath & then how worthless will i
feel?
i always lose the people i love before i fgure out how to love them
i talked to a girl at a bar about my parents getting old & she understood
because hers are too
i talked to her boyfriend about rock music
i talked to neal’s girlfriend about suicide & i tried to explain how i don’t
tell people they shouldn’t kill themselves
i don’t think it is wrong to
she talked about holding a boy’s brother’s gun
i wept & wept in my bed & said “i wish i had someone to talk to” while
clutching my pillow
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i feel so much unexceptional noise in my skull & it does things to me
i wondered how ted berrigan wrote a poem about giving a reading as he
was giving a reading
but then i investigated & learned he wrote the poem from the perspective
of someone giving a reading while that person was giving a reading
today i eclipsed 10,000 tweets & downloaded a bunch of bright eyes
songs
i clicked on the internet a god damn lot
my computer is my best friend
in a new movie, kevin spacey is a robot who teaches frank langella how to
be a human again
i don’t remember the little boy i used to be
being tickled by my dad in front of the tv & laughing
that weird energy of joyfully saying the word stop
spilling barqs root beer on the carpet when i was all alone & scrambling
to clean it up
feeling terribly terribly terribly shy around everyone my age
not wanting to close my eyes at night, which i’ve already written about
in a poem
sitting in my grandma’s lap feeling like her belly was my bed
trying to explain to my cousin that she liked me best because she was my
only friend i could be myself around
putting aluminium foil in my gloves
being lifed all the way up to the rim by a high schooler & still missing
the shot
afraid of all the boys in the bathroom & how they played games while
they peed
loving to swim all one summer then only wanting to be inside the next,
how confused & disappointed everyone was
my dad asking if it was okay if he missed my confrmation & me saying it
was & feeling sad
the birthday card he gave me that said he was proud & how i’ve looked at
it so many times
oh how lucky i’ve been
taught how to cross the street by someone who loved to hug me & smile
at me
always getting a sprite or 7-up when i had a tummy ache
dinosaurs on my blankets & dinosaurs on my walls
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getting to listen to my dad’s cds while i fell asleep
telling my mom to buy tomika all eyez on me by 2pac
getting called a preppy afer i made it on student council
wanting desperately everyone to like me
being told by my aunt i would be a bad sandwich artist
never having a single teacher say i made a great drawing
the bald man at church who complimented my haircut afer i got it
buzzed the frst time
the girl at lunch who argued she wasn’t saying “bitch” when she said
“beeyotch”
how mean everyone could be & how i would smile
holding chae’s hand while drunk on the stairs
telling that girl i would talk to her on monday then seeing her in the hall
& feeling nervous
always wanting to be a writer
it was weird having a locker next to trace clappe all those years, unable to
shake the memory of him calling me a “weenie” in 5th grade
when i did my president’s report i had to explain so many times that john
q adams was diferent than john adams
some boys could make anything cool
i got so drunk & said “fuck you marcus” to my childhood friend but that
was afer this other guy threw me into the fucking dirt & everyone
laughed
i was so small
i told matt one day both our parents would be gone for the weekend &
then there would be a big party in our neighborhood
i want someone to read this to right now on aug 6 2013 at 3:36 am
my toes cold, my hair dirty & my skin without a single tattoo
i’m trying to be alive right now & know inside that i can be loved
i am a big pile of rocks
i used to love how hard my dick felt watching halle berry in the fintstones
movie
or when i was younger, pressing my boy toy into my girl toy until my
mom saw
running through the sprinkler felt like a miracle then
& today is special too
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3
i have some sadness at my core that isn’t simply the resultant by-product
of severe physical & mental depression
i feel alone and afraid to connect w/ anyone
i feel so scared and unloveable and everyone in my world is saying they
don’t want to put any energy into caring about me
once, when i was a teenager my cousin called my house from the nebraska
state penitentiary so he could talk to his mom and his children, who
were living w/ me at my parents’ house at the time, & i answered the
phone & he talked briefy about how terrible it is in prison
broken words are what i write
i wish i had an intimate
my immediate desire is stupid: to write a poem
her name stars w/ a vowel: e
emotions up fll in me until i am the shape of a soon-to-be-dead balloon
i don’t want to write about want but when i think calmly i only want one
thing: to always have air, water, food, & skin for my lips to touch
once i wrote about space fight in a really sad poem that people ofen
laugh at
i can think of 2 specifc instances when someone called me “funny” afer
a reading & feeling annoyed now thinking about it
an indiferentist is one governed by indiferentism & i am not that
she’s my leman & i’m her lemon
i’m a broken car lover boy all squeezed out
or, in the parlance of blink 182
i know
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just where
i stand
a boy
trapped in the body of a man and
celestial is a sad word to me now because heaven is a sad place in my
mind
all that is in my ear reach is the sound of air moving
no human love for my hand
every feeling i have feels new when i have it but not really just something
that has already come & gone & will come & go again
WHY HAVE I BEEN GIVEN THE
SPECTATORSHIP?
i’m living in an encampment of sadnesses
an animal’s noise is two or more emotions in a single symbol
my chest is an ape’s chest
my phone keeps making noise
i saw the movie devdas abt a boy becoming a man who pours his life down
his throat
i read another poem by bill cassidy
i tried to write abt 2 fast 2 furious
but all i could write was my cousin being in prison for using meth
in the movie tyrese says he’s not going back to prison but it’s not
appropriately sad
it’s almost a joke
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now i’m trying to write abt bill cassidy being dead but all i can do is let my
thoughts slip through my fngers
i enjoy not hearing the hum of my computer
i said out loud to myself in my car that i’ve been thinking a lot today
it feels like hard work
i like to speak to no one in particular
but i have to take a break every once in awhile to see if justin has made a
joke abt dolphin telepathy or blood teleportation
if justin died i’d probably cry a lot more from that point on
i tried to explain to lucy how i acted like a fucking idiot to the poet
heather christle
because i brought up her friend who died to talk abt how much i like his
poems
it’s not the worst thing to bring up
there aren’t very many good interviews w/ conor oberst on the internet
i’m not sure if i should send the text i’m thinking about sending
i couldn’t fnd the television remote when i got home today
been touching myself a lot like to feel how hard my dick can be
i’m going to get another sugar cookie & write more in public
before i do that i have to email zarmina abt intern work
i want to tell her something abt how cute she is but she’s 10 years younger
than me
in his poem abt alice breathing pregnantly, ted berrigan notes that alice is
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28, anselm is 20 months, and he’s coming up on four-oh
my insecurity is a mountain
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PROLOGUE:
Vroom vroom. Vroooooom.
Piggies on the chase.
Vrooom.
Nice drivin Roam. Nice drivin.
I got you Brain.
SCENE ONE:
SWooooooosshhhhrhhhrhhrhrrzzhzhzhhzhzhz. A helicopter
overhead. Two pigs sit with their legs dangling out of the open
doorway.
Bald mister in the yellow car with Brain of Color looks toward
the sky. Roaming Peace and other mister look out of the open
roof of the purple convertible toward the sky as the helicopter
fies by. “Check it out!” yells other mister. He points to the
helicopter. Chchckchchchshchzhhczhzchzhzhshzhhczshhszc.
Te pigs hold big guns. Tey aim their big guns at the yellow car
with Brain of Color and bald mister and at the purple car with
Roaming Peace and other mister. Brain of Color squints his eyes.
He is worried. His canvas shoes operate the pedals. Te machine
is his body. Roaming Peace grits his teeth. His boots operate the
pedals of the purple convertible. He and Brain of Color swerve
their cars to avoid the claws that the pigs shoot out of their guns.
Clouds in the sky.
~~
What might I say?
A man who betrays himself.
(What about woman?)
Loyalty loyalty.
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Where’s the double-edged sword of the Cosmos.
And you too will someday be with me.
And you too will eat my shit.
You Lone Star, You.
Shine on.
Eat my shit and die, you fuck.
I love you.
You’re worthless.
You’re everything.
Prize ribbon. Blue. Congrats.
You’re scum.
Fuck of.
SCENE TWO:
POLiCE.
Te pigs shoot their claws. Te yellow car is hit.
Brain of Color peers over his lef shoulder. Bald mister leans over. “What
was that?” Roaming Peace and Brain of Color have trouble straightening
out their skidding cars. Behind them the pig cars begin to skid out of
control. Roaming Peace and other mister watch the helicopter whir by
over the open roof of the purple car. Te pigs try to control their cars in
the midst of chaos. Brain of Color pokes his head out of the open window.
“Oh, shit!” he mumbles. Te claw in the side of the car is buzzing blue.
Other mister looks out the back of the convertible.
~~
L.O.L.
Nothing in your grasp
Nothing to grasp
No grasp
SCENE THREE:
N166BH. Te pigs fy by. Te two with the big guns each sit on the foor
of the helicopter with their right leg resting on the higher bar of the
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landing skid and their lef leg resting on the lower bar.
Brain of Color does a double take inside the car.
Te helicopter pulls in front of Brain of Color and bald mister in the
yellow car. Te fat pig on the right looks down through his goggles at his
gun. ESD Electrical System Disabler. A claw with three talons. Locked.
Locked. Engage. Te top two talons light up green. Te lowest talon
fashes red. Error Connection Unstable. Brain of Color watches his
Panasonic monitor power down. Te car slows. 115 to 100.
~~
Today I heard what I’m pretty sure but not sure was a Britany Spears song:
“She’s so lucky. She’s a star. But she cries, cries, cries in the dark. If there’s
nothing missing in my life then why do these tears come at night?”
Britany Spears sings in another song: “I’m not a girl. Not yet a woman.
And this is from another Britany Spears song: “My loneliness is killing
me. And I. I must confess I still believe. Still believe.”
SCENE FOUR:
“Come on, man. Take the wheel,” Brain of Color yells at bald mister.
Bald mister stirs nervously. “No no no no. I can’t drive.” Brain of Color
leans over with a look of anger and impatience on his face. He grabs bald
mister’s wrist. “Just hold the wheel straight! Put your hands on the wheel!”
He thrusts bald mister’s hand onto the wheel. “I can’t drive!” bald mister
screams with fear. Brain of Color screams back, “Hold it right there, just
hold steady! Just like that!” He begins to climb out of the window.
“What are you doing, man?” yells Roaming Peace across the highway.
Bald mister steers the yellow car with his right hand while he holds tight
to the back of Brain of Color’s red shirt with his lef hand. Brain of Color
is far outside the window.
Some pig cars swerve to a stop. Others pass around them.
Brain of Color wraps a piece of red cloth around the buzzing claw. “Que
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pasa?” asks other mister anxiously. He looks behind him. Brain of Color
pulls on the claw. Clouds in the sky. Te yellow car is now driving in grass
between the lanes. Brain of Color’s face is tense and focused. He keeps
his black Chuck Taylor All Stars shoe on the gas pedal. Te car continues
to slow. 75 to 65.
SCENE FIVE:
Bald mister’s eyes are wide as he steers the car with one hand and holds
Brain of Color’s red shirt with the other. Te pig cars begin to catch up.
Brain of Color pulls hard and bald mister grabs the steering wheel with
both hands as he struggles to steer the car. “Eeuuuuueheehheeehhh.”
Brain of Color groans. Te claw won’t come out. He keeps his shoe on
the pedal. Te car slows even more. 60 to 50.
Roaming Peace in the purple car keeps back the pig cars by swerving across
the road.. Brain of Color grits his teeth. Te pigs are close. N166BH.
POLiCE. Clouds in the sky. Te fat pig in the helicopter puzzles at his
screen. Locked. Locked. Error. Red turns to fashing blue, yellow, and
orange next to the third talon. Engage. Te red progress bar in the fashing
box advances. Te yellow car slows. 40 to 30. Brain of Color’s eyes betray
desperate intensity.
SCENE SIX:
Brain of Color tugs the buzzing claw out of the car. He throws the
claw into the grill of a pig car. Sparks ignite in the grill on the outside
and in the dash on the inside. Beeop boop. Te pig car begins to break
down. Brain of Color laughs and sits back down in the driver seat of the
yellow car. Bald mister’s hands are still on the wheel. Te pig car swerves,
causing many pig cars to crash into one another despite the ofcers’
attempts to steer out of the way.. Roaming Peace cackles. Other mister
looks over at him and smiles tentatively. Bald mister shouts at Brain of
Color in unsubtitled Spanish and shoves him in the arm. Brain of Color,
meanwhile, grins and pants. “…loco!” Brain of Color looks behind him
over his right shoulder. “Wooooo! Yeah, man!” He excitedly hits bald
mister on the chest. He cackles. Te Panasonic monitor powers up. Te
car accelerates. 75 to 90.
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Brrrrhrrhrhhrnhrrrrhhrrrhhrrhrnhrrrhhrhrhrhnhhhhnhhrhhrrrrh.
Brain of Color in the yellow car and Roaming Peace in the purple car
drive fast. Te pigs are close behind.
EPILOGUE:
Bald mister crosses himself. His cross is incomplete, unfnished.
Father.
Son.
Holy.
Amen.
Uh.
Jimmy Swanson’s mom was tired of the airplane game. Everyday,
it was basically the same thing - Jimmy won’t eat unless there is
an elaborate airplane/airport setup. Sure, it started innocently
enough - millions of parents do a little airplane sound as they
whirl a spoon full of mashed bananas in the air and towards their
kids’ mouths.
But Jimmy was 17 now. And she was getting tired of his
airplane in the air BS. He could feed himself, sure he could, but
she was always worried about staying connected with him. To
be part of his life. To hear his problems. To hear his girlfriend
stories. But Jimmy had none of that, because Jimmy kept coming
up with elaborate airplane-airport scenarios. Sure, she had always
wanted him to be creative, what mom didn’t want their kid to
be artistic? But this was getting to be socially unacceptable. Not
even in a geek-convention-hehe-we-dress-up-like-X-Men-way.
No one else was doing this. Tis was Jimmy’s world. His own
embarrassing Schnectady, New York.
Instead his room was flled with hundreds of spoons. From
drab tarnished silver, to general store plastics, to expensive ones
too - Titanium ones he found on the Internet for $700.
Ten there were the models. Figurines to work the “tarmac”
also known as the dinner table. Te models started out as GI Joes,
then Lego pieces and Connex, to now this massive hard-carved
wooden structure that they had to carefully hide in the back shed
before any guest ever came over for dinner.
Jimmy called her. It was almost 5pm. Tat was lif-of. Every
single goddamn day.
“Good you’re here,” Jimmy said. She looked at the table. Jimmy
had perfectly set up the runway and an elaborate freeway system
for today’s performance with an exquisite Laguiole En Aubrac
pallisandre and Lettre wood handled spoon with stainless steel
bolsters. A model HUMVEE was labeled “SWAT” and located
on the airport tarmac, and a Corvette and BMW were lined up
on the freeway.
He snapped a sheet of paper towards her. It was the day’s lines.
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God, the lines. She had to scan them quickly as not to mess them up. He
would get so mad, threaten to leave her alone, take all of their food, and
join the professional Parkour circuit. Nevermind that he had never done
Parkour. But the threat was enough. Just heart-wrenching enough.
She remembered the day she asked if they could at least flm these little
scenes. “You know, make a small movie out of it, put it on the Internet
and then other people might like it?” she said. She had thought about
that line for weeks on end. It was to be her way out. An underground
railroad to freedom. She had hoped it would catch on, maybe draw some
weird commenters into his little world, maybe those, what are they called?
Role-playing kids? might be interested in what her little Jimmy had been
doing and he could fnd new actors. One who could bring a new passion
to the project.
On that day that she had fnally delivered the lines about flming,
Jimmy scrunched up his pale forehead for a second and wrapped his right
arm around his head, so that his elbow was on top and his fngers dangled
down on to his lef cheek. His thinking position. At least she knew he
was taking it seriously.
“I enjoy you creatively contributing to this project, Mom, but
remember you’ve already done so much. You were the initial inspiration,”
he said. “But yeah, no. I don’t want the artistic integrity of performance
to be compromised. I live for the experience. If we flmed it - I mean, then
we wouldn’t have to do it everyday and then where would we be?”
She sighed at this. Yes, where would they be? she wondered. Where
would they be?
“Mom, you got the lines down?” Jimmy brought her back to the
reality.
“So, I’m the SWAT team and cops right? And you’re doing this freeway
racer guys?” She looked at her paper again and realized she had a bigger
role than usual. In charge of the plane and then immediately switching to
the SWAT team? Jeez. A demanding performance.
“What does this even mean, ‘We got Verone’s Navigator’?” she asked.
“MOOMMMMM...” Jimmy said. “Just do it and get ready.” He
handed her the Laguiole En Aubrac and raced to position on the side
of the table. Jimmy’s mom pulled out the applesauce and dipped in the
spoon. A heap full. She carefully balanced it and walked to the table.
“Okay, mom, go!” Jimmy Swanson’s mom held the spoon of applesauce
between her index and middle fngers and did several puttering, whooshing
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sounds. She carefully placed the spoon onto two-foot wooden runway, on
the proper side of the dotted lines no less. As she was doing this, Jimmy
silently moved up the SWAT team car and placed two fgurines outside
of it.
She cleared her voice. “We got Verone’s Navigator,” she said with a bit
of a grufness. Jimmy immediately grabbed the cars on the freeway with
two hands and handed her another previously unnoticed SWAT team
car. He raced them down the winding, carefully Jig-sawed model freeway
and she followed him with her SWAT car. Te cars turned and weaved
and spun out and then went back to the top to do it again, while her car
crashed of the side of the table.
Jimmy stops the cars and pulls out a surfer-style accent. He moves the
Corvette while saying, “You’re a good driver, man.” He then moves the
BMW and says, “Tanks, bro.”
Jimmy’s mom grabs the original SWAT team and the fgurines on the
airport runway. She afects a higher voice and says with a stern fourish,
“Tey’re headed to an area with no escape, sir.”
She then grabs the other fgurine and lowers her head to the table.
Jimmy Swanson’s mom looks directly into the eyes of the fgurine and
mutters in the gruf tone she’s perfected over the years: “Where are they
going?”
Tis is a preview. Te number of pages displayed is limited.
Paul stood behind the garage door looking at its wavelike surface.
He ran his fngers over the metal, then slowly looked at them,
coated in dust that had been invisible on the back of the shadowed
door. His friends were arrayed behind him, sitting in or on their
cars like the multiracial cast of a big budget action flm. Tey
were each thinking their own thoughts, seeing the scene from
a diferent camera angle, living in the alternate universes which
exist inside their heads.
Paul began to feel depressed without knowing why–maybe
unconsciously intuiting what life would be like in a giant house
with a signifcant other and a routine, how forty or ffy years,
like windows on a computer screen, maximized on top of each
other, could appear like a single year that would then need to be
lived repeatedly, so that one felt both nearer and withheld from
death–and within a few minutes was silent and visibly troubled.
Paul hadn’t seen his parents since they sold their house in Florida
a year and a half ago and moved back to Taiwan. He was unsure
of his heritage. He thought ‘all the colours of the rainbow’
then ‘more colours than that’. He contemplated the diference
between ‘then’ and ‘than’. He contemplated the diferences in
spelling between American English and English English. He
contemplated how similar ‘contemplatively’ and ‘contemptibly’
sound.
Skipping over damaged area.
Paul walked directly to a two-seat sofa (golden brown and deeply
padded as the upturned paw of an enormous stufed animal) and
lay on it, on his side, facing the room, and closed his eyes.
Paul contemplated this moment of his life and realized that
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he wouldn’t remember it. When he scrolled through the Amazon
‘Look Inside’ book preview version of his life, this would be one of the
unincluded pages. When he watched the DVD version of his life this
would be one of the many scenes where his laptop skipped over a damaged
section. His life’s DVD was covered in various scratches. Tere had been
so many exciting and hilarious moments in his life that the damaged disc
refused to play back. Paul wondered whether Amazon ofered a service
that would sell him a book containing a transcript of his entire life.
Page 16 is not included in this book preview.
Paul was staring at an area of torsos. Paul looked away, slightly confused,
and suppressed a grin. Paul grinned uncomfortably. Paul was thinking
the word “somewhere,” meditatively as both a placeholder and an ends.
Somewhere.
Paul thought of how she liked Nirvana a lot and became confused about
whether he thought of himself as a he or a she, but more drastically and
importantly confused about whether he was thinking about Nirvana the
band or the enlightened state of being.
Paul thought ‘I’m unsure if I am Paul or if Paul is a character I have
read about in a book or watched in a movie.’ He became unsure which
direction time naturally fowed in and whether this was his life or if he
was watching the flm Momento. Paul considered the possibility that this
might all be a dream but then remembered that he never included dreams
in his writing.
Skipping over damaged area.
Paul was aware of the ice hockey game on the fat-screen TV attached to
a wall. Paul remembered feeling highly amused and impressed. Paul felt
a kind of panic. Somewhere. He could remember feeling amused and
impressed but he could not remember what those feelings felt like.
Paul began to feel sleep, in his seat. He was unsure when and how he came
to be in a seat. Somewhere. He had been standing at the garage door but
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he had never lived in a house with a garage.
Pages 20-23 are not included in this book preview.
Paul didn’t recognize anything, even afer turning two full circles. He
considered turning diferent shapes. Triangles, dodecahedrons, spheres.
He imagined turning into a cube. He imagined all the matter that made
up his body being restructured into a cube and him remaining alive and
conscious throughout the entire process. Paul dreamed something about
his cube-shaped room being a storage facility in which he’d been placed
by an entity that believed in his resale value.
Skipping over damaged area.
Paul felt like a shark. Paul heard someone say “sculptor.” He turned
around in his chair by looking over his shoulder and saw that he was still
in the garage with his friends behind him. He had shifed from standing
by the door to sitting on a sofa on the other side of the room. Somewhere.
He wondered if this was one of those moments that seem like they are
lasting for hours but really they’re lasting for hours.
Pages 46-285 are not included in this book preview.
Paul was loud and either slug-like or Paul’s frst grade teacher recommended
he be placed in the English-as-second-language program. Somewhere.
Paul was confused. He was distrustful of computers’ ability to copy and
paste. He committed to never using this feature again.
Skipping over damaged area.
Skipping over damaged area.
Skipping over damaged area.
Skipping over damaged area.
Skipping over damaged area.
Skipping over damaged area.
Skipping over damaged area.
Skipping over damaged area.
Skipping over damaged area.
Skipping over damaged area.
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Skipping over damaged area.
Skipping over damaged area.
Skipping over damaged area.
Skipping over damaged area.
Skipping over damaged area.
Skipping over damaged area.
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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oIyZDQA1Q7w
A Life of Truth is the Only Escape Route (the escape is life).
My hands steer fortune’s wheel (I steer into the universe’s loving
glow).
With love I can overcome anything (when I smile with my enemy,
we both glow).
Te universe, like a well-oiled engine, brings me further from my
obstacles and beyond all too familiar roads (I no longer search
for truth, truth is abound in this world).
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T - Goddamn I love my car. I’ll tell you, if I could I’d marry it.
G - Oh yeah?
T - 400 horses of pure power, a quadruple nitrous booster, an
18mm machine gun, a police scanner... What else could a person
desire?
G - Shit. I don’t know… a built in TV I guess
T - A TV? Man you’re thinkin small. Check this out. My car does
all sorts of hi-tech shit I haven’t mentioned yet.
T - Starts slamming his head against the dashboard to misdirect
the Guard as he pushes a button on his bottom of his door.
Te passenger door unlocks, unbolts from the rest of the car, and
fies of its hinges.
Te Guard screams “WHAT THE FUCK?” and a whirring
mechanical noise is heard for a second before the seat, with the
guard still in it, fies out of the car and into a lake.
As the guard fies out he yells “Maricooooooooooooooooon”
T yells - I CALL THAT EJECT-O SEAT-O, CUZ
T laughs.
T - Tat stupid son of a bitch. Tat was too easy.
T holds a button on his walkie-talkie and tells the blond guy “It’s
done. It was light work. He knew nothing.”
Meanwhile, the SWAT team moves in on the SUV.
Chief - Who the fuck are these punks? Duped by low level goons.
If they’re not here…
Ten where the FUCK are they?
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SPOILER ALERT: Te blonde guy lives and goes of to rescue
the girl.
SPOILER ALERT: Te blonde guy lives because he overcomes
both henchmen.
SPOILER ALERT: Te blonde guy overcomes both henchmen
because he is rescued by his bald buddy.
SPOILER ALERT: Te blonde guy needs to be rescued by his
bald buddy because his secret ejector-seat button doesn’t work.
SPOILER ALERT: We’ll never know why, exactly, the blonde
guy’s secret ejector-seat button doesn’t work.
SPOILER ALERT: Te blonde guy is rescued by his bald buddy
just in time to avoid being shot in the head afer his secret ejector-
seat button fails to work.
SPOILER ALERT: Te rescue comes in the form of the blonde
guy’s bald buddy ramming a car into the back of the blonde guy’s
car.
SPOILER ALERT: Te blonde guy got in that car because the
henchman ordered him to get into the car.
SPOILER ALERT: Te henchman ordered the blonde guy to
get in the car because the henchman was ordered to “get rid of
him.”
SPOILER ALERT: We’ll never know why, exactly, the henchman
decided to make the blonde guy get behind the wheel of the car
rather than just immediately shooting him.
SPOILER ALERT: In 29 Fast 29 Furious (2035), the blonde guy
and his buddy make cameo appearances as grizzled mechanics
playing cribbage. Te blonde (now grey) guy is four points down
fourth street, and the bald (still bald) buddy is only two points
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from the target when the blonde (now grey) guy lays down a hand of
three jacks and a fve of hearts with the fourth jack — of hearts — visible
in the starter position. In his frst line of dialogue since Fast X Furious
(2018), the blonde (now grey) guy looks at his bald (still bald) buddy
and growls, “Tat’s for banging my babe in Barstow.” All hell then breaks
loose.
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Roman and Brian come running up around a bend, palm trees
swaying in the breeze and their hearts pumping. Tey pause at
water’s edge as they see Verone’s yacht glide along the waterway.
Hopelessness and desperation wash over them, it is unspoken
between the two.
Tey both know each other’s impulses; this is why Brian had
to have Roman with him on this mission. Teir timing along
with their give and take is impeccable. Tey both do not hesitate
to start acting rather than fretting and stalling, they both take
of back to the car. Without telling each other what needs to be
done, they bust out the bullet-riddled windshield with their feet
and Brian peels out in reverse.
~~
On Verone’s yacht Monica sits in a solemn state, awaiting the
outcome of the situation. Verone shakes his head with a coy
smirk, “You had me.” Monica looks confused. Verone stares
of into the distance smirking to himself, thinking about how
funny the turn events have been. How easily he had let himself
be fooled.
“You slipped,” pausing to nod with a comical grimace, “Eleven
and a half months and you slip once.”
As Verone points and gestures towards Monica she can’t help
but fxate on the fact that he tracked the time she spent with him
in half month increments. Verone tells one of his henchmen
to put her downstairs. As she is escorted to the lower level of
the yacht Verone remarks in a threatening tone, “See you in a
second.” Monica pauses in the stairway to meet his stony eyes.
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Verone stares back with the intensity and ferocity of a shark.
~~
“I thought you was dead man,” Roman exclaims as he shifs his vision
between Brian and the road. With a raspy quake Brain responds, “Yeah
me too, thanks for saving my ass bro.” Brian rockets along the dirt road
running parallel to the river and Verone’s yacht. Roman inquires loudly,
“What are you doing Brian?”
What can be done is this situation? From the position our heroes are
in there does not seem to be any viable options to resolve this confict.
“I don’t know man but if Verone sees the Customs boat and helicopter
she’s dead.” Roman watches the boat speed along the river and starts
connecting the dots, “Boat...car...boat...You’re not going to do what I
think you are going to do!?”
“Yeah I think so, you got my back bro?”
“Yeah!” Roman said this and meant it. Afer having been estranged
from each other for so long, having had so many intense feelings towards
Brian and how he felt wronged by him, it all had disappeared by this
moment. Roman knew in his heart that Brian was his kindred spirit. He
couldn’t deny supporting him when his crystal eyes cut into him, it was
always those snowy aquamarine irises.
“Alright put on a seatbelt.”
“You’re doing some real Dukes of Hazards shit bro!”
“WE’RE GOING TO DO THIS BIG, HOLD ON ROME, HOLD
ON!”
Brian had become flled with a wild energy at this moment. Something
had to be done and he was willing to push the limits to get it done. He
could not let Verone take Monica away into international waters. Brian
jams on the accelerator causing the needle on the speedometer to shoot
up. Te car jets forward as it stays within the radius of the yacht. Roman
is uncontained in his seat, jumping out of it and animate with frenetic
energy, “OHHHH BRIAN YOU CRAZY MAN! WHAT THE
HELL YOU DOING?”
It seems as if there are no options for our heroes. What is Brian
planning? Te needle nears one hundred and twenty miles per hour.
Te situation looks bleak and utterly hopeless. Brian and Roman start
screaming with abandon.
139
Ten, almost as if by divine intervention, a ramp materializes at water’s
edge. Te car launches of with an incredible linear arc. Verone senses
something and looks over his shoulder to see the incoming interlopers.
Te car comes fying directly at the yacht, picking up momentum as it
covers an extensive expanse of water. Brian and Roman continue to
shout, fueling the jet power of the car set on a collision course with the
yacht. Te car continues to roar indicating that it is still being accelerated
by the driver.
Reacting to the inevitable, Verone ducks down from the top deck of
the yacht with shotgun in hand. Right as the car nears the yacht Roman
curses, “Shit,” at a lower volume. One of Verone’s henchman jumps into
the water moments before the car collides.
Te car crashes with the impact of a cannonball, sending an explosion
of debris and dust into multiple directions. A thunderous noise erupts
from the site of impact. As the dust clears Brian squints, holding his head
afer hitting it on the dash. Roman writhes in his seat, grasping his right
arm, “I think I broke my arm man.”
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(1)
PAUL WALKMAN and TYRESE SOMETHIN have
successfully landed their car on a boat. Okay, fne, sure. Tis is a
little reminiscent of earlier when LUDACRISP pulled a stupidly
dangerous stunt by making that bridge go up and stuf. Tis is
commonly referred to as THEMING. What I want to know,
however, is why no one wanted to get even with LUDACRISP
for what was essentially, attempted homicide. Don’t you fnd that
a little odd?
Anyway, I digress. Let’s get down to business:
Which of these REALLY COOL DRIVER DUDES do you
identify with on an emotional level? Like if one of them had to
die which of them would you want to not die the most?
If you answered PAUL WALKMAN, turn to (2).
If you answered TYRESE SOMETHIN, turn to (3).
(2)
Wow, you are now PAUL WALKMAN. I hope you’re happy.
“Oh my gee willikers!” You yell to TYRESE. “I can’t believe
we actually did it!”
“Yeah man! I really don’t want to die!” TYRESE replies.
“T.G.I. Friday’s afer this bro?”
Suddenly, WHAT’S-HIS-FACE appears with a shotgun.
“Oh no! Look out!”
Your entire life fashes before your eyes.
If you had a positive relationship with your parents, turn to (4).
If you hated your parents because ‘they never understood you,’
turn to (5).
(3)
Wow, you are now TYRESE SOMETHIN. I hope you’re
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happy.
“Hot damn dude!” You yell to PAUL. “We didn’t die! So glad we
didn’t die!”
“But my dear TYRESE isn’t every waking moment a slow dance with
Death? Isn’t this waltz we call ‘life’ just one feeting step and eventual
stumble into a cold and lonely grave? ” PAUL replies without blinking
once.
Suddenly, WHAT’S-HIS-FACE appears with a shotgun.
“Oh no! Look out!”
Your entire life fashes before your eyes.
If you are ‘super duper’ hungry right now, turn to (6).
If you are only ‘kinda’ hungry right now, turn to (7).
(4)
Your entire whitebread life fashes before your eyes.
Flash: Your parents buy you a Hotwheels variety pack so you will
shut up at the mall. You hold your tiny red Corvette in your tiny hands
and fy it through Macy’s. You ride it over the perfume counter yelling
VROOM VROOM. Your MOM smiles because she loves you. Your
FATHER smiles because your MOTHER loves you. Te MAKEUP
DEMONSTRATION LADY smiles from behind the glass case because
this is the most interesting thing she has seen all day. You fy your Corvette
over a gap between two of the glass cases and you land it on top of a 50%
OFF earring rack. Everyone circles around you. Fanfare. Clapping. Tey
are very proud of you. You will grow up to be a fne young man.
If is another good example of THEMING or whatever, turn to (8).
If this also gave you the WARM-AND-FUZZIES, turn to (9).
(5)
Your entire whitebread life fashes before your eyes.
Flash: Here you are, fully-grown and at a pretty serious moral impasse.
You are staring at VAN DIESEL – your mark, your enemy, your best
friend. His bald and sweaty skull glimmers in the California sun. You
didn’t think it would come to this but it’s true: you don’t want to be a cop
143
anymore. Te world isn’t black and white like you once thought. Tis is a
good man in a bad situation and you owe him more than you could ever
imagine. If anything, you owe him a TEN SECOND CAR. You walk up
to VAN DIESEL and hand him your keepsake Hotwheels Corvette that
you stole as a child. Te tiny car’s red color shines almost as bright as your
love for him – the love your real family could never give you.
“I owe you a TEN SECOND CAR, VAN. Take it. Go. Before I
change my mind!”
VAN DIESEL shrinks down to the size of an ant. He climbs into the
miniature Corvette and speeds away before THE COPS arrive.
If you consider this whole moment “POINT BREAK-ing,” turn to (10).
If you have never seen the flm POINT BREAK, turn to (11).
Also, shame on you.
(6)
Your entire infated-ego-tough-guy-badass-with-a-heart-of-gold life
fashes before your eyes.
Flash: Bacon.
Flash: Cheeseburger.
Flash: Bacon cheeseburger.
Flash: Mother’s meatloaf flled with bacon and cheese and burger
baked into a loaf.
Flash: Salami.
Flash: Tat one time you were grilling a burger in the backyard and
put salami on top of the burger you were grilling. Salami burger.
Flash: Tat time you tried to fle your SALAMI BURGER with the
United States Patent Ofce.
Flash: Bonnie sits down in front of you twirling spaghetti with her
fork. You are in a fne-ass Italian trattoria. Tis tortellini you are eating is
of the frickin’ hook. You are thinking damn I gotta keep my shit together.
I gotta get straight. Go legit. I can’t aford to do time in the slammer. I have a
life, a love, an appetite that is beyond all measure – an appetite for LIFE!
If you have eated some fne-ass cucina italiana in the past 30 days turn to
(14).
If not, what’s wrong with you? Also, turn to (15).
144
(7)
Your entire infated-ego-tough-guy-badass-with-a-heart-of-gold life
fashes before your eyes.
Flash: Te lunch line in prison. It’s sickening really: an ice cream
scooper’s worth of baked beans, a stale-as-all-hell dinner roll. Fuck this
meal, you say to yourself. Where’s my steak? You ask yourself.
“Hey baby,” OBSESE TONY rubs your shoulders.
“Oh hey, OBSESE TONY.” You reply as you nervously grab a plastic
cup of juice.
You pick a random lunch table and start eating of your tray. OBESE
TONY sits down across from you, licking his lips. He is truly OBESE
like they say, although his actual name is ANTHONY – weird.
“You seem tense, TYRESE – is everything ok?” OBESE TONY says
in a sof and caring voice. He reaches out and gently places his hand on
your arm.
“Everything is ok, TONY – I just…” You hesitate.
“What is it dear?” OBESE TONY leans in closer. “It’s okay, we can
tell each other anything.”
“I… I think there’s a connection a connection between us…” You search
your head for the right words while trying to swallow this dry-ass dinner
roll. You fanaticize about the McRib.
“We do, we have a great connection.”
“Well, I don’t know… I think… it seems like you want things to get
physical but I don’t feel that way about you. I just want to be your friend,
OBESE TONY.”
“Oh… oh that’s totes fne dude! I getcha.” OBESE TONY smiles.
“Tank you for being up-front and honest with me.”
“You’re not hurt or anything? I’m really sorry.”
“Not a problem, brosef.” Te two of you hug over your respective bean
bowls. “I’m not a walking cliché man. Consent is my jam.”
OBESE TONY respects your wishes and boundaries and never once
pressures you to do anything you don’t want to do, nor does he ridicule
you or call you a prude behind your back. He remains congenial and
a positive infuence on your time in prison. You still email each other
updates to this very day and he has never resented you or felt entitled to
sex in return for his being such a good friend.
145
Is this real life? Turn to (12).
Is this just fantasy? Turn to (13).
(8)
Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah
blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah
blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah
unimpressive villain foiled in a split-second blah blah blah blah blah blah
blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah
blah blah blah blah.
(Turn to page 143 for Part #33)
(9)
Flash: Back to reality, all the warm and fuzzy positivity still lingers in
your beautifully boring blond soul.
“Take the gun!” TYRESE yells. You shake your head, refusing the
pistol.
“No… Wait. Stop!” You throw your hands into the air. “It doesn’t have
to end like this, WHAT’S-HIS-FACE!”
WHAT’S-HIS-FACE stops, confused. Cue the orchestral swell in the
background.
“Look man, I know how you feel. You got a raw deal from the universe,
I get you, but you have so much potential bro!”
“What are you talking about? I’m evil and stuf!” WHAT’S-HIS-
FACE lowers his shotgun as if maybe contemplating peace or at least
questioning his own motives. It’s super efective!
“I know you hate cops, but really man, we’re not even cops,” you say.
“Yeah dude! We hate cops too!” TYRESE nods his head violently for
an extended period of time.
“Oh, shit, you’re not cops?? OHHHH. You’re just working for cops!”
WHAT’S-HIS-FACE smiles. You and TYRESE smile too. Everyone is
smiling.
“Well that’s a horse of a diferent color!” WHAT’S-HIS-FACE laughs
and opens his arms as if trying to hug something. He gestures like this to
146
his lef and then to his right towards no one in particular.
“Sweet dude. Just let us take EVA MANDIBLES and we’ll go…”
“NAH!”
BLAM! Shotgun blast to the face.
YOU AND EVERYONE YOU EVER LOVED ARE/IS DEAD.
PLEASE TRY AGAIN.
(10)
Flash: Back to reality.
Quick! TYRESE nudges the gun over to you because his arm is
broken I guess. You are still dazed from your fashback and the thought of
KEANU shooting his gun into the air still lingers in your tiny brotastic
brain. You grab the pistol and fre the fve remaining rounds directly into
the roof of the car. You dramatically click the empty frearm trigger whilst
screaming. You stupid idiot.
“Why did you do that BROoOoOoOo…?!” TYRESE screams over
your screaming.
BLAM! Shotgun blast to the face. Your brains are splattered all-over
TYRESE. He is still holding his “OOOOOHHHHHH” as your brains
smack him in the face.
BLAM!
YOU AND EVERYONE YOU EVER LOVED ARE/IS DEAD.
PLEASE TRY AGAIN.
(11)
“F this S!” You declare while grabbing the gun.
BLAM! BLAM-O!
WHAT’S-HIS-FACE goes down.
EVA MANDIBLES grabs the shotgun and tells WHAT’S-HIS-
FACE to hold his horses.
“We got him, man. We got him.” Tyrese mumbles through the deep
pain of an empty life.
“Sweet, bro.” You say. “Glad I didn’t kill him while shooting blindly
and all.”
147
“Yeah, we were able to preserve our PG-13 rating AND put this dude
behind bars…” TYRESE remembers prison and grows quiet.
“You sad, bro?”
“Real sad, bro.”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
(Turn to page 143 for Part #33)
(12)
BLAM! BLAM-O!
Yay! We got the bad dude!
“Man, I really hope people don’t try to use numbers and like, number-
related puns in their review of this.” You say.
“Huh?” PAUL WALKMAN looks like he has just woken up from a
coma.
“Oh damn.” PAUL WALKMAN replies.
THE END. PLEASE STOP READING.
Or… (Turn to page143 for Part #33)
(13)
Flash: Back to reality. Your arm is broken. Tere’s nothing you can do.
You yell to PAUL WALKMAN to take the gun. He mutters something
about VAN DIESEL and fumbles around with the pistol. PAUL receives
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a shotgun blast to the face. Hm. You look around. Tat’s odd… you’d
think there would be more brains splattered everywhere. It’s actually
kind of clean…
BLAM! YOU ARE DEAD.
…But somehow, your soul remains. You can feel the vibrations of the
universe pulsing through you as you fy through a tunnel of white light.
Te light grows brighter and brighter until all of a sudden, WOMMM!!
Endless void. Nothingness.
You think: No no no no, this can’t be it!
You frantically search the void for any sign of light. Nothing.
NOTHING!
You can feel your soul begin to break down until all of a sudden a
small city appears on the horizon. Yes! You foat ever closer to it. Yes!
It comes completely into view – a beautiful metropolis of the future!
How wonderful! You foat around the city watching people shoot down
the streets on hoverboards. Oh look! Robots building a new skyscraper!
Fantasmic! Wait a sec. Te robots… what are they doing? Oh no no no
no no no.
You watch as the robots tear the building to pieces in a matter of
seconds. What’s going on here? A robot uprising? A robot uprising
indeed. You foat helpless as you watch millions of innocent humans get
slaughtered by Construct-o-Bots and Destruct-o-Bots and even Instruct-
o-Bots!
Tis terrible vision of the future! You have to warn them! Tis can’t be!
You have to go back!
(14)
“Ugh – PAUL! Shoot him!” You yell as PAUL WALKMAN hesitates
with the pistol in hand. “Do I have to do everything myself ??”
You grab the gun from PAUL WALKMAN.
BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM. You have shooted WHAT’S-
HIS-FACE in the FACE fve times. I think he’s dead now. Your arm hurts
a lot.
EVA MANDIBLES steps out of the yacht’s cabin. You are thinking
like, how did she just waltz out of there? Wasn’t there a henchman down
there with her? What’s the rest of the story? Why can’t we see that scene?
149
Where’s the beef ?
“Way to go poop-brains,” EVA MANDIBLES looks PISSED. “Now
we can’t arrest this guy because he’s dead.”
“Oh, woops,” you say.
“Rut-roh,” PAUL WALKMAN says.
“TYRESE, you’re going to jail for murder.” EVA MANDIBLES grabs
a shotgun and points it at you. She winks. “Just joshin’ ya! Great work!”
Hahahahhaha. Hahahhahah. Hahahahha. Te three of you laugh for
like ~5 minutes. HAHAHAH.
“Look how dead he is!” You say.
Bonus footage located at page 143.
(15)
“PAUL WALKMAN!” You yell. “Get the gun!”
“Huh? Why did you say my full name? Aren’t we on a frst-name basis?
I mean… haven’t we known each other since…”
BLAM! SHOTGUN BLAST TO THE FACE! DEAD! YOU’RE
DEAD!
END OF THE STORY!
SORRY BUDDY!
YOU DEAD.
TRY AGAIN NEXT TIME WHEN YOU’RE NOT DEAD
BUDDY.
35
D
o
m
S
c
h
w
a
b
As police ofcers buzzed about their bureaucratic feldwork,
Brian and Roman walked casually through the on-shore crime
scene, stopping when they come face to face with U.S. Custom
Service Agent Monica and F.B.I. Agent Bilkins. Te four stood
in a square, ready to engage in conversation.
“Hey,” said Bilkins, “we took care of your decoys: they’re free
and clear. Tere’s a sedan out on the road for ya; try to bring it
back in one piece.”
Understanding this comment was a joke made at the young
men’s expense (a reference to their recent reckless vehicular
behavior), Brian and Roman smirked, perhaps knowing they had
cost the residents of Miami a future of higher taxes so that the
various police departments and governmental agencies involved
would be able to aford the repairs required for the astronomical
amount of property damage accrued over the past few days, but
then also knowing that they would not need to personally pay
for these repairs because they had made a deal with the various
institutions of power that had granted them the ability to do
absolutely anything necessary in order to help the governmental
agencies procure the arrest and, with luck, eventual incarceration
of Carter Verone, which would, ultimately, cut of his particular
criminal infuence on the city of Miami.
Brian, wilding his swag, leaned forward with an extended
hand to the F.B.I. agent, saying, “Tanks a lot, Bilkins, you’re
alright.” Who quietly muttered, “Tanks,” to Brian for deeming
him ‘alright’. “Tanks for looking out, man,” said Brian, who
shared a look of sincerity with Bilkins, further confrming his
words’ earnestness.
“So you trust me now?” Monica asked Roman, bold and
direct.
“You’re alright,” said Roman, fashing his dazzling pearly
whites at her, implying that, in addition to his ability to trust
her, he still had to admit she was sexually attractive. Monica
smiled in return and raised her hand as though to high fve-
handshake Roman and, in mock passive aggression, grabbed his
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152
injured arm slightly frmer than necessary as a way to ‘stick it’ to him for
having blatantly said rude things to her while she had been doing her
job. Te tone of Roman’s sigh implied she had hurt him, to which she
ironically vocalized a noise suggesting the frmness of her grab/grasp had
been accidental, which non-verbally communicated that she harbored
no grudge. Monica looked at Brian and said, “Nice working with you,
O’Conner.” Tey shook hands, staring into each other’s eyes, and smiled,
especially Brian, who’s feelings for Monica were now openly public to all
four parties and safe from Carter Verone’s intimidation.
Bilkins smiled slightly and reached into his shirt’s breast pocket to
withdraw a pair of sunglasses. As he placed them on the bridge of his nose,
he and Monica turned to their right to leave. Brain continued to stare at
Monica as she and Bilkins walked away. Coyly, as if guided by spiritual
intuition and carnal cravings, Monica looked over her right shoulder,
such that the frst of the two young men she’d see would be Brian. She
smiled sweetly, suggestively; Brian’s smirk slid away as he maintained
intense eye contact with her, becoming transfxed by a countenance of
beauty, which she now turned away, back in the direction of personal
forward movement.
Brian glanced at Roman, who was looking mock-sceptically and all-
knowingly at his friend’s leering. “Yeah,” said Roman, “I might have to
stay out here in Miami, man; keep you outta trouble, breh.” Roman
turned back in an obvious fashion towards the departing Monica, then
refaced Brian, who laughingly exhaled while smiling and turned towards
his right to walk away. “You know what I’m talkin’ about,” said Roman,
following.
“So you gonna kick it in Miami, bro?” Brian asked.
Roman looked at Brian. “Oh, man, I love Miami. Miami’s of the
hook.” He reached up with a friendly fst and, bringing it down, bumped
Brian’s rising fst; then, vice versa, the two friends bumped fsts again.
Brian, looking forward as if into the future, suggested, “Open a garage
together?”
Roman, afer a second to process his friend’s suggestion, asked, “A
garage? How we gonna do that, breh?”
Brian stopped, looked his comrade in the eyes with a smile that
expressed disappointment at Roman’s inability to see the bigger picture,
looked quickly in both directions to make sure no one was around to
overhear the information he was about to reveal, leaned in energetically
153
to Roman, said, “Pockets ain’t empty, cuz,” and grew a mischievous grin
on his face.
Roman fashed his dazzling pearly whites again and laughed, seeing
a picture bigger than the one Brian saw. Quickly glancing over to make
sure no one was watching, Roman clasped the fabric of his shirtless blue
fannel at the waist and, while lifing up, said, “And we ain’t hongry no
more either, breh!”—
Secured to his white undershirt-clad torso by the utilization of a brown
leather belt were four or fve rubber band-bound stacks of one hundred
dollar bills. Roman laughed in a higher pitch and Brian’s smile increased;
the two bros bumped fsts twice again. Ten, both turning back in the
direction towards which they had previously been walking, the smiles on
their faces broadened as the totality of the unscathed success that they had
achieved dawned within their consciousnesses and, pausing to bathe side
by side in the glory of having completely ‘pulled it of’, they recognized
and respected that a future of ease lay ahead of them, brimming with
near-infnite possibility.
THANKS TO DOMINIC LYNE & CHRIS DANKLAND & BOB
SCHOFIELD & SHANE JESSE CHRISTMASS & TO EVERY1
FOR WRITING & WAITING ON US FOR THIS PROJECT TO
BE EXACTLY THE WAY YOU WANTED IT TO BE, WHICH
IS TRUE UNTIL YOU REALIZE THAT NO PROJECT CAN BE
EXACTLY THE WAY YOU IMAGINED IT, REALLY THANKS
THANKS THANKS, REMEMBER TO ALWAYS COMPARE
YOURSELVES TO OTHERS B/C OH WAIT
DECKFIGHT BOOKS
WWW.DECKFIGHT.COM

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