#*dinosaur attacks and the only place to hide is a cave* never mind

[jonroxton]

Marguerite being the ultimate polyglot is hilarious because she’s a liar who hates people lol.

[rockthistowninsideout]

DigiWeek 2021

Day 2 - Voyage

The Story

part 1 part 3 part 4

   After the first shock of having been transported to the Digital World had subsided we had tallied what was in our possession. We still had our school bags with us which meant unnecessary burdens in the form of school books and notebooks. But we couldn’t just throw them away so we had to carry them if we liked it or not. Thankfully, we still had our full bento boxes in there as well (today we’d gotten free pizza for lunch because of the principal’s birthday – the only good thing coming out of this miserable day). In addition to that I had a small first aid kit at the bottom of my bag while Taki was always carrying a sewing kit. We could be off worse, I supposed.

   Once that was out of the way, the four of us set off to the West – at least I thought it was the West as the sun was moving in this direction (I mean, the world was moving in this direction. My science teacher would get pustules if he’d heard that.) The vegetation grew sparser the longer we trudged until we suddenly stepped into thick powdery snow.

   “Oh God!”, Taki muttered, clutching her bare arms after a few metres. She started to shake until I took off my jacket and placed it on her shoulders. “Thank you”, she said with a bright smile.

   I simply touched her back in response. “How far is it?”, I asked Kamemon.

   “There’s a cave about an hour away where we can hide for the night.”

   Just as it had said this, a snowstorm descended completely out of the blue. For a moment, we were engulfed in a twirling cloud of snowflakes. Taki and I leaned into each other to shield ourselves. When that cleared, a hideous Digimon stood before us, baring his sharp white teeth from out of a mass of black wiry fur.

   “Oh, Frezamon! My friend, how are you doing?” Kamemon said cheerily.

   I blinked rapidly. I wouldn’t call someone a friend who was frantically dancing around us. It drew nearer and suddenly produced an ice pick from among its fur. With which it was aiming at us now!

   Kamemon took a step back. “It’s never done that before!”

   “Stay back!”, Ryudamon yelled. It leapt before the three of us, hissing “Tera Burst!” and jumping into the air to fire several mini explosions. My eyes went wide watching but Frezamon simply danced back, noticing that a few fur strands had caught fire. It grabbed a handful of snow to put the fire out. Then it let out a roar and threw the ice pick. It sailed past Taki’s scalp by a whisker but only because she had managed to duck away in time. Suddenly the DigiVice, how the round devices we had gotten were called, at her belt started to glow – as did Ryudamon and it changed in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it-moment from the mastiff-sized Digimon to a blue cyber dinosaur three times my height. It looked terrifying with its red sharp claws, bolted extremities, and sizzling cable ends serving as its tail. My own DigiVice lit up. The name DexDorugamon appeared on it.

   Frezamon, though, seemed not intimidated by it. The ice pick returned in a boomerang-like fashion and now it was ready to throw it again. The twirling fur revealed something that caught my eye. A black spike was protruding from Frezamon’s back.

   “Kamemon”, I asked and indicated the spike. “Is that a normal feature of Frezamon? Like a bee sting?”

   Kamemon cautiously peered around Frezamon’s back. Its eyes went wide. “No! I have never seen that before!”

   “Well, you said something about a gruesome force. Maybe that’s what’s responsible for the spike.”

   Taki, who was still looking frightened, yelled “You heard that?”

   DexDorugamon raised a claw as answer. It jumped for Frezamon’s ice pick, tore it away and by doing so it caused Frezamon to topple over. Now that it lay face-first on the ground, DexDorugamon could aim its Cannonball at the spike. It burst into a thousand shards that floated in the air for a moment before dissolving into sparks of data. As DexDorugamon evolved back to Ryudamon, Frezamon slowly rose to its feet, looking confused.

   “Oh, hey friends! How come you’re out here in the cold? And who are those weird-looking creatures?” It indicated Taki and me.

   I squinted at Frezamon. “You don’t remember anything?” I asked incredulously.

   It shook its head, asking with a frown, “Should I?”

   “Well, you just tried to kill my best friend!”

   Kamemon rushed to Frezamon. “What my DigiDestined actually means is that something caused you to attack us. You wouldn’t have done that if you hadn’t been out of your mind, right?”

   Despite being basically nothing but fur, Frezamon managed to look like an entire question mark. And then downright offended. “Of course not! I would never hurt my friends.” It tilted its head and scratched it. “Now, thinking about it, you’re not the only -  what did you just say, Kamemon?”

   “DigiDestined.”

   “-DigiDestined that I’ve encountered. I saw one the other day up on the mountain.” He indicated the snow-covered peaks on the horizon.

   Taki and I exchanged a look. Another human! So we weren’t the only ones stranded in the Digital World!

   “We should go find them”, Taki said. She looked much better, now that the imminent danger was banned. “Maybe they know how to get out of here.”

   “Why would you want to leave the ice wastelands?” Frezamon asked truly flabbergasted.

   “Our friends here are not made for arctic conditions”, Ryudamon explained. “We need to find food and shelter for the night so we can strategise on our next move.”

   Frezamon waved its ice pick in farewell. It bared his teeth and said: “Then goodbye and good luck on your journey!”

DexDorugamon

(Frezamon is a Digimon made up by me so I can’t present you a picture now.)

What happens if your (favourite) character comes to your country/city?

   “Oh how wonderful, Germany! Pretzels, Weißwurst, and potatoes! God, I love potatoes!”, Miyako exclaimed as she, Mimi, Hikari, and Sora were exiting Bremen Airport. She stood for a second at the curb, closing her eyes and inhaling (though mostly exhaust fumes), before stepping onto the bus that would take them to their destination.

   Their tour guide Susanne, a German chef Mimi had met on one of her cooking trips around the world, laughed. “You are aware that you are in the North of Germany. We do not eat pretzels and weißwurst, at least they’re not our national dishes. We eat kale and - Pinkel!”

   Hikari’s eyebrows climbed up her forehead. “Pinkel? Sorry, my German is really, really just rudimental, but as far as I’m concerned pinkeln means to pee. I doubt you eat anything related to pee!”

   “Of course not. Pinkel is East Frisian and, you may be surprised to hear that, East Frisian is more related to English than to modern day German. So Pinkel derives from pinkelt, or pinky finger. At least that’s one theory. It’s a smoked Kaszanka, made of pig’s blood, pork offal, and buckwheat or barley”, Susanne explained.

   Miyako and Hikari exchanged a look, wide-eyed. “Pork offal?”, they said in unison, sounding utterly disgusted.

   Susanne shrugged. “Sure. why let anything go to waste? I heard that head-to-tail usage of animals is very en-vogue again.”

   “Well”, Miyako drawled, “I think I’ll just stick to the vegetarian options then.”

[jakegyllenhaalsupportgroup]

Items In A Shoebox

This is day one of the 500 Followers JGCU Write Fest!!!! Thank you all again so much for 500 followers - this is a piece that I’ve been planning for a while and talking about for even longer, Detective Loki’s backstory within the JGCU!!! 

Just to warn you that this piece talks about a lot of hella sensitive topics and so because of that your discretion when reading it is advised, please don’t read if it’s going to trigger you in any way. I’ve attempted to be delicate about the topic but please don’t read if it will upset you more than it ought to

Other than that, though, I hope you guys enjoy reading this!! I’m genuinely quite proud of how this turned out but again I have to state: don’t read this if you feel it will be too much/too intense and will trigger you (murder, domestic abuse and more are mentioned in this piece) and as well as that, please remember that this isn’t Detective Loki’s official background in Prisoners. I worked with what was given in the film and created my own idea of his background from what was given so PLEASE don’t attack me if I maybe don’t go with the canon/what you had in mind as I will cry

Loki’s hands traced over the top of the shoebox. The corners were tattered and worn with age, pieces of the brown cardboard showing in places. A thin layer of dust covered the top as Loki held it in his hands, sat cross legged on the floor of his room.

He hesitated before opening it. To him the shoebox was Pandora’s box. The only thing holding him back from a barrage of painful memories was a thin layer of green cardboard.

His fingers played with the lid of the box before he let out a long sigh and opened it.

///

David turned the purple dinosaur over in his hands. 

His dad brought him back a dinosaur whenever he went away. When he’d come back he’d bring a dinosaur for him. Some flowers for him mum.

The flowers had stopped recently. But the dinosaurs always came.

David ran his little fingers over the top of the dinosaur’s body. He was sat on the sofa, his parents arguing in the room behind him. But he stared down at the dinosaur.

He liked dinosaurs.

Ever since he had learnt about them in school he had been interested in them. His teacher had lent him a book on them and David had first learnt the world ‘palaeontologist’, deciding swiftly that that was what he wanted to be when he grew up.

His father usually tried to find ‘unrealistic’ dinosaurs for him. 

Multicoloured dinosaurs that would line up on his desk, looking at the child with cartoonish faces that David loved.

His dad thought that his love of dinosaurs was too grown up for a child of five. The way that he could recite every fact from that book his teacher had leant him worried his dad. 

Sure, David was smart. But no kid should be that smart.

No kid should be as mature as David had had to be. 

Five year old David stood from the sofa as he heard another crash from the room next door. He peaked his head around the corner as he always did when it got to this point in his parents fights.

His father was red faced as he stood above David’s mother.

His wonderful, friendly, loving, supportive father. 

David almost couldn’t recognise him. 

To David his father had two sides - the side that he saw and the side that his mother brought out.

He couldn’t understand why his father reacted as he did towards his mother. David’s mother was sweet and caring and so, so concerned with his father. She would do anything to make sure that his father kept happy.

David rushed back to the sofa when he heard his mother begin to scream, he hid himself under the couch cushions willing himself away.

By the time the screaming and smashing had stopped the dinosaur had left deep marks in David’s hands.

///

The purple dinosaur was the only one Loki had left from his childhood collection. It was the last one he ever got from his dad. The last time things were ‘normal’ for his family.

Loki lent over and placed it gently on his bedside table, stood up on the nightstand. It was chipped and dirty with age but still filled Loki’s heart with some sort of longing when he looked at it.

He refused to acknowledge the watery in his eyes and he pulled the next item from the box.

///

“I’m not doing this because I don’t love you - I’m doing this because I have to love myself,” five year old David struggled to make sense of his mothers words.

She took his little hands in hers as he lay under his bed, his mind fogged in confusion from sleep, having been shaken awake by his mum at three in the morning.

“Mummy?” He mumbled, allowing her to pull him back out from under his bed, into the room. His mum picked him up and set him so he was sat on top of the mattress. 

She crouched in front of him and David rubbed his eyes tiredly.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I have to do this,” she told him, her eyes filled with worry and apology. 

“Are you going on an adventure?” David wondered if the bruises on his mothers face hurt when she smiled at him then. 

“Yeah, sweetheart, I’m going on an adventure,” she agreed, squeezing his hands.

“Can I come with you? I’m really good on adventures - Danny always lets me be his second in command,” David’s mothers lips pressed to his forehead.

“You’re always going to be my first in command,” his mum whispered. “But this is an adventure I have to go on alone. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“Are you coming back?”  

“Probably not,” her voice was no more than a croak and David felt tears fill his eyes.

“Don’t be sad, Mummy!” He begged when he saw her cry.

“I’m just going to miss my little man,” she whispered, bringing her son in for a tight hug. “But it’ll be better with me gone - Daddy will be less mad all the time,” she promised him.

“What if I go?” David offered. “Maybe Daddy will want you around more if I go?” 

“You sweet boy,” his mum sniffled into his shoulder. “You sweet, lovely boy,” she repeated, shaking her head. “Your daddy and me both love you and neither of us want you to go anywhere, okay?”

“I don’t want you to go,” he pleaded.

“I have to,” his mum released him and her right hand went to her ring finger on her left hand.

She twisted on her engagement ring, prising it off of her hand and pressing it into his small one.

“I have to do something for me.”

///

That was the last time that Loki had seen his mother. 

Now the engagement ring hung from a chain. It was a little rusted but out of all the items in his shoebox of memories it was in the best condition. 

After he had been taken to the boys home, Loki had put the ring on a chain to hang around his neck for fear of it being stolen otherwise. It was the one thing that he couldn’t imaging loosing. The one thing he had never even considered trading whilst her was there.

He hadn’t worn it since coming to university, so desperate to leave his whole past behind but now, in the safety of his home, in the knowledge that he had two people who wouldn’t leave him, he slipped the chain back around his neck.

The ring came to rest next to the thudding of his heart.

///

David waited at least an extra hour before coming out of hiding.

He waited for so long after the commotion and the gun shot before he even considered leaving his safe cave that his legs were beyond numb. He toppled straight back down to the ground when he tried to stand up.

He hadn’t realised he was shaking until he reached his hands out in front of him to try and support himself.

David closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

He crawled towards the door to his bedroom and pushed it open.

He hadn’t known what was going on when his dad had burst into his room, his eyes wide with fear as he pushed David into his wardrobe, piling shirts and jumpers on top of him in an effort to hide him. He had never heard his father so scared as when he implored his son to stay quiet and not come out unless he was sure it was safe.

It was the first time in a while that David had been told that he was loved.

It was also the first time ever that David saw his father cry.

That was how he knew that it was serious, whatever was going on. David’s seven year old mind was so fixed on his fathers tears that he couldn’t even think of making a noise. 

His father was in the living room. 

Him and David were still there fifteen minutes later when the emergency services came, answering David’s phone call faster than normal when they realised how young the child was on the other end.

David was sat cross legged by his fathers dead body, sobbing.

///

The police had allowed Loki to keep the shirt. 

They caught the men who had broken in only a few days after Loki had called the police and, after they had been properly identified and the legal process had been seen through, they had given Loki his fathers shirt.

Loki wasn’t sure why he had wanted to keep it. Perhaps because he had something to remember his mother by and he wanted something to remind him of his father - and of the sacrifice his father had made to keep Loki safe.

If he hadn’t gone and shut Loki into his wardrobe then he could have escaped with his life.

Now, Loki unfolded the shirt out of the shoebox and held it up. Blood stained it and it was almost completely shredded from the bullet wounds that had riddled his fathers body. 

That had been the day he became set on becoming a detective.

///

David hated his grandparents house. 

He hated the smell of cabbage that permeated the air around him.

He wanted his mum.

When the police had told him that they were going to track down a guardian for him that was who he had assumed they meant. He thought the long two years of separation from his mother would be over and that they would be reunited again.

David couldn’t hide his disappointment when it was his grandparents that turned up at the station to pick him up.

He wondered if, perhaps, his mum would be at their house. His grandparents were on his mums side so when she had disappeared that night he had assumed that was where she had gone to.

But his grandparents refused to tell him anything about his mother.

If they knew where she was, they weren’t giving any hints.

His granny ran a bath for him when they got to his grandparents house. 

“Home sweet home,” his granny had declared.

There was nothing sweet or homely about it. He wanted his real home.

David sat in the bath water, thinking of the events of the day.

Was this going to be his life now? Living with his grandparents? Surrounded by the scent of cabbage and bad memories?

He had cried when he first got to his grandparents house and found that his mother was nowhere in sight. His Granddad had told him that it was better than living in a boys home.

David climbed out of the bath and wrapped himself in the towel he had left out for himself and left the bathroom to the room that he had been told would be his for the foreseeable future. 

His tears began again when he saw the soft teddy bear that had been left on his bed for him by his grandparents.

Didn’t they know that nothing could be fixed anymore with a teddy?

///

The bears fur was matted and one of its eyes had fallen out at some point during his time at the boys home in Conyers but Loki didn’t care.

His grandparents had been good guardians and eventually he had gotten used to the smell of cabbage and even now, six years after he had left that place behind, it comforted him in a strange way.

But he still fucking hated cabbage.

His Granny had died first. She had a heart attack when Loki was ten and it had broken his Granddad. Loki had had to start looking after himself much more - he did the cooking and the cleaning and made sure that his Granddad got to his doctors appointments.

Loki wasn’t ashamed to admit that most of the care he took of his Granddad was for purely selfish reasons. He knew that if his Granddad was to die then he would be put in the local boys home. 

Everyone had heard horror stories about what it was like there and there was no way that Loki would be taken there without a fight.

But after his Granddad was diagnosed with terminal cancer when Loki was eleven he became resigned to his fate. About a month before his Granddad died, he was told the truth about his mother.

She had returned briefly to live with his grandparents, as Loki had suspected had happened but had swiftly disappeared again only to be found a few months later dead in a hotel room.

Loki was twelve when his Granddad lost his battle.

///

“You want the book?” The boy’s face was morphed into confusion. His eyes glanced down at the tattered classic in his hands before raising back up to meet Loki’s eyes.

“Yeah.” 

Loki’s jaw was clenched and his eyes were cold and unwavering as he looked at the new kid who had entered into the boys home only a few weeks ago.

“You want the book?” The kid repeated incredulously.

“Need me to fucking write it down for you?”

“No - no, sorry I just...” the younger boy collected himself, trying to hide his fear and Loki almost felt bad for a moment until he remembered what his first few weeks had been like at the boys home. “What’ll you give me?” 

Loki was almost proud of the kid and he allowed a slight smirk to grace his face and he nodded at the boy.

“What’dya want?” 

“Your leather jacket,” he declared and Loki scoffed.

“Piss off,” he rolled his eyes. “You know it’s not worth that,” the boy visibly deflated and Loki sighed, taking pity on him. “You get my desert tonight - and I’ll tell Anthony to lay off,” he offered, knowing that Anthony had been giving the new boy shit ever since he had arrived.

He looked up hopefully and held out the book. Loki took it from him, nodding.

“If he bothers you again, let me know,” Loki told him before turning away and stalking out of the room.

He knew that most of the other boys in the home were scared of him and the ones who weren’t were those who had been around for as long as he had. 

He had been at the boys home for four years. And what was devastating was the knowledge that he would be there for the remaining two years until he turned eighteen and could leave for university and then, hopefully, the police force.

When he had saw the new boy with his book Loki had known he would have traded almost anything to have it. Few people in the home owned anything other than a couple of changes of clothes and their school books. Anything they did own would be traded for something else - extra desert or a particular clothing item usually.

Loki had lost all of his dinosaur collection within the first week of his arrival at the boys home for a pair of shoes after his had been stolen. Well, all of his collection other than the final addition: the purple dinosaur.

Great Expectations was his parents favourite book. When he was much younger, before everything went pear shaped in their relationship, his parents would tell him how it was that classic which brought them together - they had both wanted a copy of it and had gone into a bookstore at the same time and reached for it.

They had ended up reading it together after his father had asked his mother out on a date and that was the start of their relationship.

Loki himself had never actually read it but had always wanted to - but he had no money with which to buy himself a copy after he had been taken into the boys home and had never had the chance to read it.

To have a copy of it in his hands now, nine years after he had last seen either of his parents, it felt so much that, in holding Pip’s story, he was also holding that of his parents.

///

Loki didn’t realise he was crying until his tears began to drop onto the well-loved book.

He wiped it away hastily, worried about it harming the pages that he too had grown to love but he didn’t stop himself from crying.

For what felt like the first time the full weight of what he had been through hit him. It was talking to his roommates about how he had wound up in the boys home that had sparked his need to dive into his little shoebox of memories.

Loki wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to go into details about his past. What his father had been like towards his mother and what his mother could sometimes be like towards him. The details of his fathers death. The facts he had dug up on his mothers suicide when he turned eighteen and was able to find such information out. 

The full truth of his life at the boys home weighed heavy on his mind and he knew it would scar him forever.

“Hey, David,” Loki looked up towards the doorframe. David and Jake were looking at him with eyes filled with concern. “Are you okay?” Jake asked.

Loki dropped his eyes down at the book, the teddy, the shirt, he felt the ring lying on his chest, and finally he looked at the little purple dinosaur.

Loki looked back to his roommates, a watery smile on his face and he nodded, the weight lifting from him.

“Yeah... yeah, I am.”

[buzzdixonwriter]

Cowboys And Cavemen

This one’s gonna meander, but it’s about cavemen and cowboys and dinosaurs, so some of you may wanna stick around…

. . .

Recently watched the colorized version of One Million B.C. with Victor mature, Carole Landis, and Lon Chaney Jr.

I remember frequently watching the original black & white version of this as a kid; it popped up on local Early Shows a lot primarily because it could be chopped down to fit an hour’s running time without losing too much of the story (Early Shows were afternoon movies with a local host that typically ran only 90 minutes from 4:30-6pm; with commercials and host segments there wasn’t much room for uncut films and as a result they featured a lot of B-movies with 65 minute running times, or else cut out sequences from longer films not germane to the plot).

The colorized version surprised me in a couple of ways.  

First, I’d forgotten just how well done One Million B.C. is in basic film making terms:  Once past the opening scene, in which an archeologist explains some cave drawings to a group of mountaineers who then imagine themselves in prehistoric times, there’s no recognizable dialog; the film is told in purely visual terms.

Second, the colorization was incredibly sloppy:  There’s a lot of weird blue artifacting going on that lays a strange mist-like quality over several scenes, and in several places the colorists inexplicably either colored the actors’ bare legs blue or else overlooked the mistake in the final color correction.

Third, the sloppy colorization doesn’t matter:  If anything, it adds to the weird dream-like quality of the film.  As an attempt to realistically recreate the prehistoric past, it’s gawdawful; taken as the imaginings of an average contemporary 1940s person with no real knowledge of prehistoric times (viz the prolog), and it’s pretty entertaining.

Technically the movie is a mixed bag.  The special effects are pretty seamless (yeah, you can tell when something is a rear screen shot, but then again rear screen shots in every film of that era were obvious)).  A travelling matte shot of a hapless cavewoman buried under a flood of lava is particularly well done and as amazing today as it was then (though the colorists dropped the ball and didn’t tint it a vivid red or orange in the colorized version).

There’s a lot of monsters, but they range from well done to just plaine…well…

The best are a woolly mammoth (i.e., an elephant in shaggy fur costume) and a baby triceratops (a large pig in costume) that really seem to capture the essence pf those creatures.

The worst is a guy in an allosaurus suit who kinda just shuffles along like a grandparent going to the bathroom, and in the middle are various lizards dressed up with fins and horns.

The lizards bother me more and more over the years.  At first it was because they were disappointing -- they don’t look like dinosaurs, dammit, but like lizards with fins and horns glued on -- but now it’s because I realize they were goaded by their handlers into fights and reactions shots.

That’s plain ol’ animal cruelty, even if they are reptiles and not mammals.

There’s an armadillo and a koala-like animal that appear thousands of times their normal size.  The koala-like critter (sorry, but I don’t know what it actually is) is passable as a giant cave bear or sloth, but the armadillo is just an armadillo (there was something about armadillos that 1930s audience found creepy; they’re waddling all over the Count’s hiding place in the original Dracula).

One Million B.C. was produced by Hal Roach and Hal Roach Jr.  The senior Roach goes all the way back to the silent era, so this was not a huge stretch for him.  

Originally D.W. Griffith was to direct the film, but while he did a lot of pre-production work including screen and wardrobe tests, he either dropped out or was replaced on the eve of production.  (Reportedly he wanted the cave tribes to speak recognizable English and left when Roach refused.)

The special effects wound up in a ton of movies and TV shows over the ensuing decades; modern audiences are more familiar with the film through 1950s sci-fi than its original version.

All else aside, the picture is carried by stars Victor Mature and Carole Landis.  Ms Landis in particular is a spunky, charming cave gal with a blonde-fro and while Mature would never be an Oscar contender, he at least has the physicality and screen presence to get his character across.

The scene where he thinks Landis has died in a volcanic eruption may be corny, but you can feel his character’s grief.

. . .

A quarter of a century later it was remade as One Million Years B.C. with John Richardson in the Victor mature role and Raquel Welch in the Landis role.  

No disrespect to Welch, who by all accounts is a nice person, but she never showed one iota the acting chops of Carole Landis.  Welch is beautiful, and as a generic pin-up model cast as a film’s “sexy lamp” (look it up), she presented appealing eye-candy.  She appeared in one good sci-fi film (Fantastic Voyage), one campy monster movie (i.e., One Million Years B.C.), two incredibly campy WTF-were-they-thinking movies (The Magic Christian and Myra Breckenridge), and a host of instantly forgettable spy films and Westerns.  The best movies she appeared in were Fuzz, based on the 87th Precinct novels by Ed McBain (a.k.a. Evan Hunter nee Salvatore Lombino), where she did an acceptable supporting turn as a police detective, and Kansas City Bomber, a roller derby movie that many consider her best role.

Landis never enjoyed the same level of fame (or notoriety, depending on your POV) that Welch did, but holy cow, could the gal act.  It’s a pity Hollywood is crowded with talented, beautiful people because she certainly deserved a bigger career capstone than One Million B.C..

Welch’s personal life certainly proved less traumatic than Landis’, however.  When actor Rex Harrison broken off his affair with her rather than divorce his wife, Landis committed suicide.

The scandal exiled Harrison temporarily back to England.  A few years later One Million B.C. and Landis’ other films started playing on television.

Who knows what opportunities may have opened for her in that medium?

. . .

The original One Million B.C.  is vastly superior in all areas but one (well, two -- mustn’t leave out the catfight between Welch and Martine Beswick):  Ray Harryhausen’s stop motion dinosaurs

Mind you, most of the dino scenes in One Million Years B.C. are underwhelming.  To stretch the budget the producers used close ups of spiders and an iguana to simulate giant monsters, a brontosaurus does a walk through in one scene and never appears again, and the first big dino moment has cave gals poking sharp sticks at a big sea turtle.

On the other hand, the remaining trio of dino scenes are the aces and vastly superior to their corresponding scenes in One Million B.C..  The latter film’s allosaur attack is one of the best dino scenes ever animated, and the ceratosaurus vs triceratops battle followed by the pteranodon grabbing Welch are almost as good.

Both versions of the film had an interesting influence on films that followed.  One Million Years B.C. was followed by a host of prehistoric films, most of which existed only to cast voluptuous actresses in fur bikinis although When Dinosaurs Ruled The Earth, a direct follow-up, offered more monsters and a better story.

While One Million B.C. wasn’t the first film to sub real life lizards for dinos, it certainly told budget conscious producers that such substitutions were okay.

The 1959 version of Journey To The Center Of The Earth cast iguanas with glued on fins as dimetrodons, and for once the impersonation proved successful as the two species do bear certain similarities.

Producer Irwin Allen (he of Lost In Space and Towering Inferno fame) hired Willis O;Brien (the animator behind the original King Kong) and his then assistant Ray Harryhausen to do accurate-for-the-era stop motion dinosaurs for The Animal World documentary but apparently frustrated by the time it took to get results opted for lizards in his version of The Lost World (which, ironically, O’Brien worked on in a non-animation capacity despite having done the original silent version of the film with stop motion dinosaurs).

I saw Allen’s Lost World as a little boy and felt grossly disappointed by the obvious lizards, especially since the script identified them as belong to specific dinosaur species when they quite clearly didn’t (had the script said they evolved from such creatures, the way the most recent version of King Kong did, it would have been less egregious).

Allen’s lizards popped up in several TV shows he did, most notably the TV version of Voyage To The Bottom Of The Sea.  That show’s co-star David Hedison played a supporting role in The Lost World so once a season they found some excuse to get him out of his Navy uniform and into a safari jacket in order to match footage with stock shots from the movie.

The Animal World wasn’t the first time O’Brien and Harryhausen worked together, and Harryhausen followed up One Million Years B.C. with The Valley Of Gwangi, an O’Brien project that the older effects artist never got off the ground.

. . .

Let’s back up a bit to discuss “O’Bie” (as his fans refer to him).

O’Brien was a former cowboy-turned-cartoonist around the early 20th century who became interested in animation.

Movies were in their infancy then, and O’Bie shot a short test reel of two clay boxers duking it out.

This got him financing to do a series of short films ala The Flintstones with titles like Rural Delivery, One Million B.C. (the titles were often longer than the films).

These shorts featured cartoony puppets, no actual actors.  O’Bie followed it up with The Ghost Of Slumber Mountain which was the first time dinosaurs were animated in an attempt to make them look real, and that was followed by The Lost World in which O’Bie combined live action with special effects, climaxing the film with a brontosaurus running amok in London.

O’Bie wanted to follow it up with a film called Creation but that got deep sixed.  However, producer Merian C. Cooper saw O’Bie’s test footage for Creation and hired him to do the effects for the legendary King Kong.

While O’Bie followed that success with the quickie Son Of Kong he never got to work on a dinosaur film of such scope again.

War Eagles (a lost-civilization-with-dinos story) was supposed to have been a big follow up epic, but the Depression and the growing threat of WWII caused it to be cancelled in pre-production.

During the 1940s O’Bie pitched a number of stories to studios involving dinosaurs or other monsters encountering cowboys, one of which was Gwangi (he also pitched King Kong vs Frankenstein which eventually got made as King Kong vs Godzilla using two guys in rubber suits, not his beloved stop motion effects).

Gwangi had cowboys discovering a lost canyon inhabited by dinosaurs, chief of which being Gwangi, an allosaurus.  O’Bie never got Gwangi off the ground but decades later Harryhausen did with Valley Of Gwangi.

. . .

I never cared for Valley Of Gwangi and much preferred One Million Years B.C. over it (and, no, not because of Ms Welch).

Growing up in the 1950s and early 1960s, I enjoyed cowboys as much as dinosaurs.

I’ve posted elsewhere how my interest in dinosaurs led me to dinosaur movies which led to monster movies which led to science fiction movies which led to literary science fiction which led to science fiction fandom which led to my writing career, but my genre of choice before age 10 was Westerns.

As others point out, most Westerns are actually crime stories, what with bandits robbing stagecoaches and banks, rustlers making off with cattle, etc.  The climax usually involves a lawman (or a vigilante who carries the weight of the law) confronting the evil doers and bringing them to justice.

Sometimes these vigilantes wore masks (Zorro and the Lone Ranger).  Sometimes those they pursued wore masks, and sometimes those masked villains pretended to be ghosts or phantoms.

They weren’t, and were invariably exposed as frauds.

Westerns based themselves in a rational world.

Other times a criminal in a Western would be after some invention that could bring either a great boon (say an energy source) or great harm (a death ray) to the world, and wanted it for their own selfish ends.

The story would invariably use the invention as a mcguffin device, maybe letting it figure into the villain’s eventual comeuppance, but never really influencing the outcome of the plot.

Westerns and fantasy genres (including science fiction) don’t mix well, The Wild Wild West not withstanding (and The Wild Wild West was not a Western per se but rather what we would now call a steampunk commentary on James Bond filtered through the lens of traditional American Westerns).

(And don’t bring up Gene Autry And The Phantom Empire, just…don’t…)

Dinosaurs and cowboys don’t really go together.

That didn’t stop O’Bie from trying.

In addition to Gwangi, O’Bie had two other projects that he did get off the ground:  The Brave One and The Beast From Hollow Mountain.

The Beast From Hollow Mountain is a standard Western about mysterious cattle disappearances and quarrels over who might be responsible, only to discover in the end it’s really -- surprise!  surprise! -- a solitary tyrannosaurus that somehow survived since prehistoric times.

The movie is constructed in such a way that had the dinosaur element not panned out, they could have removed it and substituted a more conventional ending.

While O’Bie didn’t work directly on the film after he sold the story, it did feature a variant of stop motion animation known as replacement animation.  Instead of building a realistic looking puppet with rubber skin and posable limbs, the dino in Beast was more solid and featured interchangeable limbs that could stretch and squash in a more realistic manner (rather, the movement looked more realistic, the dino sculpture no so much…).

The Brave One started life as a story about a young Mexican boy who raises a prize bull for the ring, only to have the bull face an allosaurus in the ring instead of a matador.

The producers who bought that idea hired blacklisted screenwriter Dalton Trumbo to turn it into something filmable, and Trumbo sensibly jettisoned the dino to focus the story on the boy and his bull, much to the film’s advantage (it won an Oscar for best story when released, but Trumbo’s heirs had to wait decades before the award could be recognized as due their father).

The Valley Of Gwangi was yet another variant on the same basic idea, more expansive than the other two in terms of dinosaurs, and with at least a nod in the direction of trying to explain them (a “lost canyon” giving them shelter instead of a mountain plateau or remote island).

It never connected with me, despite having more extensive dino sequences than One Million Years B.C..

O’Bie animated stop motion cowboys fighting a giant ape in the original version of Mighty Joe Young but the context proved different.  The cowboys’ presence in Africa is acknowledge in the film itself as a publicity gimmick, and therefore not a true blend of the American West with a fantastic element.

Mr. Joseph Young of Africa himself, a 12-foot tall gorilla, was also presented as an exceptionally large but otherwise natural gorilla, not a throwback to a prehistoric era.

. . .

Before there were action figures, but long after there were tin soldiers, we had plastic play sets.

They came in all eras and varieties, but among the most popular were Wild West sets, Civil War, World War Two, and dinosaurs.

My father took a business trip to Chicago when I was four, and when he came back I remember eagerly crowding around the suitcase with my mother, grandmother, and aunt as he opened it and brought out souvenirs for us.

I forget what they got, but I remember feeling disappointed and forgotten since their stuff was on top.

But, underneath everything else, sat a large cardboard box, and in that box was a Marx Prehistoric Times playset.

It’s hard to adequately describe the joy that filled my heart when I opened it; it was one of the best presents I’ve ever received.

And while I later acquired a Civil War set and a World War Two set and a bag of what we then called cowboy and Indian figures, the dinosaurs remained my most favorite.

I bring this up because I think the Marx playsets explain the origins of two comics books, Turok, Son Of Stone (an on-again / off-again series from 1954 to 1982 from Dell / Gold Key) and The War That Time Forgot (1960-68 from DC).

In both cases, I’m sure somebody from each company saw some kid combing their Wild West or their World War Two playsets with their dinos and realized there was story gold to be found there.

The War That Time Forgot felt much more my speed, a lost island inhabited by dinosaurs and visited by American and Japanese forces during World War Two.

World War Two effectively ended any hope of their being a lost island with prehistoric monsters; pretty much the entire planet was scouted either on foot or by air.

Turok, Son Of Stone didn’t connect with me.  For one thing, it was too much like a Western in concept; for another, Turok and his brother Andar, being pre-Columbian Native Americans, were already from a neolithic culture, and the various cavemen and Neanderthals they encountered in their lost valley seemed more drab and colorless than their tribal background.

The dinosaurs they encountered always came across as large, dangerous, but wholly natural animals, different only from bears and wolves and bison by size and appearance.

Despite my indifference to Turok, I can absolutely understand why others love it and disdain The War That Time Forgot.

Different strokes for different folks.

. . .

We can’t close this without taking a look at The Flintstones, and we can’t consider The Flintstones without first examining Tex Avery’s The First Bad Man in order to bring this post full circle.

There’s a long history (har!) of contemporary satire using a prehistoric lens.  The Flintstones started life as a knockoff of Jackie Gleason’s The Honeymooners told in a prehistoric setting; the series made no attempt to present itself as realistic in any shape, fashion, or form.

Among the many cartoons and short subjects that preceded it (including Chuck Jones’ Daffy Duck And The Dinosaur) is The First Bad Man by Tex Avery, an MGM theatrical cartoon.

Tex told the story of Dinosaur Dan, the world’s first outlaw, using Western tropes told through a prehistoric lens.

It works, because it’s a parody of the Western form, not a sincere effort to blend it with the caveman genre.  It works because it’s a jarring clash of genres, not despite it.

The caveman genre itself has fallen on fallow times.  Despite films like The Quest For Fire and Clan Of The Cave Bear attempting to do realistic takes on the topic, most people seem to prefer more fanciful approaches, best exemplified by the movie Caveman which sent up the entire genre while not skimping on the stop motion dinos.

With sword & sorcery / Tolkienesque fantasies finally acceptable to mass audiences and thus providing a venue for humans to directly fight giant monsters, there doesn’t seem to be a huge demand for a return to the glories of One Million B.C.

  © Buzz Dixon

[reedskimmer]

Adona.

One of the things Álvaro liked about Adona was the sun. Such a small island in the middle of the ocean was a nice little vacation spot - of course, he would have enjoyed the place as a vacation spot had he and his crew not just taken the entire island by force. He was busy barking orders at his crew, unable to focus on the warmth of the sun or the soothing sound of the waves against the beach.

After they'd rounded up the people and Romy had cast some spell to make them complacent, he'd finally had a moment to breathe.

Just a small island, but perhaps impressive enough to gain some sort of respect from Terran. If not, he could always move on to the next island and do the same thing there - subdue the people, claim the land, and show it off to his father's crew. It was a cruel thing, but if it was what he needed to do to survive, then he would do it.

He was so focused on thoughts of how his father might react when one of his men waved him down.

“Captain, there was a girl resistin’ the spell Romy did, so me an’ Ludge took care'a her.”

“Took care of her?” Álvaro crossed his arms and stared down at the elf. “How so?”

“Well, we had a bottle, tossed it at her--”

Ludge, the half-orc, chimed in: “Blinded her!”

“Blinded her?” Álvaro repeated, eyes widened. “Did I not tell you specifically not to harm anyone?”

“Yeah, but--” Ludge started, and Álvaro waved a hand in front of his face.

“No. No, go take her somewhere to recover and gods damnit, go make sure that cave is secure.”

“You know, sir,” Romy's voice came from behind his shoulder, smooth as always, a hissing in his ear. “It would be easier if you were more inclined to some cruelty and torture every now and then.”

“Yes, well, I'm not...” ‘My father’ was the unsaid part, but to anyone who knew Álvaro, it was obvious between his words. He was a pirate, he'd take what he wanted, but he wouldn't resort to the cruelty his father ruled with.

Later in the week, after they'd taken care of everything and were preparing to sail to alert Terran's crew of their success, a ship appeared on the horizon. Not of any pirate Álvaro knew - no, no. A ship for leisure, something with passengers coming to Adona for a vacation and dammit, why hadn't he predicted that? Adona was a vacation spot, a popular destination for groups looking to have some fun.

“Alright, let's take care of these people,” Álvaro said, already formulating a plan in his head.

“Welcome to Adona!” Álvaro said, his smile spread across his cheeks, jewelry clinking as he swung his arms open.

The group of people before him seemed a little suspicious of him. The tiefling raised a brow at his motion, his tail flicking at the sand below them. The human of the group fixed him with a stare that was far more intimidating than it should have been from such a gentle face - the white skull painted across his dark cheeks was probably the culprit.

“Yeah, uh, we're here for a vacation, not some big welcome and some party. Kinda just wanna lay in the sun and relax, you know?” An elf woman said.

“Yes, of course. Romy, show them where they can stay, alright?”

How long could they keep the facade up?

Apparently not long. The tiefling had been suspicious enough to eavesdrop on Álvaro and Romy later that night and had relayed the information to the rest of the group. Before they could be stopped, they'd managed to sneak into the cave where the crew was hiding out and had killed four of them and taken the last one hostage in exchange for the freedom of the people on the island. Álvaro gave up quickly after he'd realized that they'd freed the real king of Adona -

Who sort of had the power to call upon a literal dinosaur ( explained all the reptile figures and statues on the island ) and scared him and his crew off.

While they hightailed it back to the ship, Álvaro heard them laughing.

The dinosaur on the island roared as their ship sped over the water, and Álvaro regretted even trying do take over.

Aetherius

Aetherius was an easy capture. Álvaro and his crew had snuck into the great halls of the city's leader, and, at Romy's direction, taken a large magical tome. Underneath the city they hid, in a cavern just below the great library, and Romy had cast a spell from within the book’s pages that caused the ground to shake and great bellows to tear from the air around them.

When they got out of the library, there was a Leviathan of unimaginable length wrapping around the city. Its tendrils swept over the ground in great waves, and the people fled in fear.

Álvaro snatched the tome and went back into the pristine white halls, whistling. Romy followed, muttering something that Álvaro didn't quite hear. Not that it mattered. This time they were going to get away with things.

Of course, getting away with things for longer than a week and a half would have been ideal. Forever would have been best. But adventurers came through, travelled via the underground roads and caves, only to take the book back from Álvaro's hands. With them, the wizard with the skull face paint stood, rolling his eyes into the back of his head when he saw Álvaro.

“You!” Álvaro said, leaping up onto the great table he'd been seated at. “You again!”

The rest of the group stared between the two and one whispered something about being in between some spat they didn't know about.

The wizard sighed heavily, crossed his arms.

“You left your headlights on, dumbass.”

The bear skeleton behind the man rattled. Laughter, in its own morbid way?

“You -- what?”

“Every light in your ship is on. Better go get it before it burns down.”

“Sir, I think he's giving you an opportunity to run.” Romy provided, inspecting the rings on his fingers.

Álvaro took it. He grabbed Romy by the arm and ran, diving through the warriors in the streets attacking monsters that had flooded into the abandoned town.

He pulled Romy until they were safely on the ship, the crew that remained helped set sail before anything could follow them, and Álvaro ran his hands over his face in anger. He couldn't do a single thing right in the realm of pirating - perhaps it was time to give up and --

He felt a hand on his arm and a sword was pressed against his chest. Romy stared up at him, eyes gleaming.

“I've followed you across every sea,” said Romy, his voice like velvet. “And now I realise just how stupid I was to even swear myself to you as my captain.”

The blade was cold.

“Your time's up, boy.”

“At least answer me this, Romy.” Álvaro said, his hands looking for purchase on Romy's clothes. When he found it, he shoved his companion, rolling their position so he had the smaller man pinned to the wooden railing. Romy's hand was pinned to his side, sword still in his hand.

“Should I show you mercy now, would you give me the same if our paths cross again?” Álvaro said, gripping Romy’s shirt tight enough to tug the smaller man forward by his neck.

Romy's lips curled into a smile. His grip on his blade tightened.

“I would chase you to the ends of the earth just to see you dead by my hands, Reedskimmer.” The bald man nearly spat his words.

The silence was nearly painful. All Álvaro could hear was the pounding of his own heart - not even the crashing of the ocean's waves registered in his mind. He thought things through, stared down into Romy's eyes, filled with hate he'd never seen before ( how had he never noticed? ) and made his decision.

His fingers tightened in Romy's shirt and with a swift movement, he head-butted him hard enough to make his nose bleed. Romy's sword dropped from his hand, clattering onto the wood of the deck. By then, other crew members had come from the woodwork to watch the spat.

“I can see it in your eyes, Álvaro,” Romy said blood dripping into his mouth. “You won't kill me.”

“Won't I?” Álvaro said, lifting Romy. His height was an advantage here - being half Goliath had its perks sometimes. One hand held Romy's shirt tight, his knuckles nearly white with the iron grip he held on with. The other fumbled for his sash, pulling out his flintlock.

He felt rather than heard the gun go off - because all he could hear was the beating of his own heart.

Blood spilled over his hand as he dropped the pistol, and Romy turned his gaze upward, his grin stained with blood.

“Maybe there's hope for you yet, kid. You could end up like your father.” He said, and Alvaro scowled.

“I want nothing to do with him or his legacy,” Álvaro said, and shoved Romy over the side of the ship. Let the creatures of the deep deal with him, he thought.

Then, covered in his first mate's blood, he turned to his crew.

“Get to your places. We're heading to Sophis.”

[evolutionsvoid]

It was such a gorgeous day out, that you just had to go for a walk. Months of constant snow and brutal colds has made you appreciate the warm, lovely days of spring. And what better way to enjoy them than to take a hike through the woods? Just walking amongst the towering trees and taking in the fresh green growths that have brought color back to the world. You believe that nothing could spoil the lovely hike and your bright mood until something weird happens. You are just about to climb over a fallen log when you get a strange feeling. For some reason, you suddenly feel like something is watching you. You scan the woods around you, but there is nothing to be found. Though the place is filled with life, none of it appears to be interested in you. You dismiss the feeling and continue your adventure, but there is still the nagging thought in your mind that something is off. A few minutes later, your brain sets off the alarm again, and you quickly look around for the person responsible. Nothing. You chuckle to yourself, trying to shrug off this odd paranoia with a nervous laugh. It is probably a deer or something, watching the intruder who is barging their way into the territory. Even as you try to push it away, the horrible feeling grows stronger. You are out in the middle of the woods by yourself. Though you have walked this deep forest before, that does not mean you own them. Something out there is watching you, following you. It has to be a hiker, you think as you try to come up with a reasonable excuse. Surely someone else is out here with you, enjoying the warm weather the same way. You hear the snap of a twig and you nearly jump out of your skin. If it was a person, then why are they hiding from you? Why have they not revealed their presence? Perhaps it is a bear. One that woke up and is now lazily searching the land for something to eat. Maybe that something is you. But can bears be this stealthy? Do they hunt like this? You feel yourself start to sweat, your eyes darting around wildly. Now the hike doesn't feel like such a good idea. It is now time to get back to the car and speed out of this nightmare. You turn to go back the way you came, but your mind screams as you turn that direction. That is where the watcher is, you cannot go back that way. Though you are screaming on the inside, you calmly turn around and pretend to resume your walk. If you act like you have not noticed them, then maybe they will go away. Or they will make a blunder that will allow you to escape. You force your legs to move, trying to come up with a plan to flee from this madness. With your back turned, the thing must have grown in confidence. That feeling is getting stronger, heavier. You swear you can feel its presence, weighing you down like a barbel. Your mind is panicking, unable to focus. Was that the sound of leaves crunching? Has the woods suddenly gone eerily silent? You cannot tell, everything is wrong. The staring eyes practically bore holes in your body, and you tense up in preparation for the coming attack. You pick up your pace, desperate to get away. It does little to ease the burden. A part of you wants to turn around and face the stalker, but your body refuses to obey. There is no way you can beat it. It is too strong, too quick. You would be slaughtered in seconds if you stood your ground. You can just feel it. You move even faster, unable to steady your nerves and think of a better plan. The snap of the branch sounds like a gun shot, and you finally make a run for it. You barrel through the woods at reckless speeds, hoping to escape your pursuer. You nearly collide with a few trees or trip over the gnarled roots, but your feet miraculously keep you upright. You sprint straight ahead, unsure of where to go. The thing is right behind you, gaining ground even as you run with all your might. It is nearly upon you, you can feel it. You quickly change your trajectory and dash to the side. Perhaps you can get around it and run to your car. Alarm bells in your skull go off, and you catch a glimpse of a dark blur cutting across your vision. You swerve back to your original route, seeing that your plan is futile. There has to be a place to go. Somewhere safe. Your heart is pounding as you run, sounding like a thunderstorm on this calm day. Are you screaming? You can't even tell. Everything has gotten so loud. The crashing of sticks, the toppling of trees. You must be pursued by a giant, as it smashes through the woods after you. You try to escape in different directions, but rushing shadows and feinting beasts keep you in line. There must be more of them. Dozens of them. No. Thousands. The whole woods is filled with them, monsters falling from every tree, bursting from the earth itself. An avalanche of death is right behind you, and you scream wildly as you vainly try to escape. Even as your leg muscles plead for relief, you run. There has to be a sanctuary. There just has to. Just as you are about to give up hope, your eyes land upon a glorious sight. There! It looks like a clearing! A break in the trees! Perhaps there is a road, or a camp! You would cry out in joy if your throat wasn't ragged from the breathing and screaming. You aim yourself right for it, but you are not sure if you will make it. They are on your heels like a tsunami, critters and creatures from every dark corner of the earth. The entire forest has practically become a monstrosity in itself, with gnarled clawed branches reaching for you as earthen jaws snap at your feet. The cacophony has become deafening, an entire apocalypse going down around you. Great booms that would dwarf bombs, screeches that would terrify a dinosaur and buzzing like a thundercloud of vicious wasps. You shriek and flail as you sprint to your salvation, batting away the horrors that threaten to slow you. You burst into the clearing, but there is no one else. A parade of giants are right behind you, and you only have mere seconds to escape. They surge from the side, and you move to escape them. You sprint like a madman, clinging to these last final moments before the millions of hungry mouths rip you to shreds. THERE! Your brain cries out, and your eyes follow. You see it and rejoice. A cave! A hole bored into the side of a knoll, almost invisible beneath the curtains of moss and vegetation. Safety! Sanctuary! You run for it, defying the nightmares just a little longer. They are nearly upon you, but you are going to make it. You can see the perfectly round entrance before you, just the right size. Without slowing in the slightest, you dive for it, just as the obsidian hand of death reaches to snare you in its claws. You crash spectacularly into the tunnel, cracking your face against the stone and scrapping your limbs against the floor. You are bleeding, your nose is broken and your skin is shredded but you barely notice. You claw at the spiraled walls around you, pulling yourself deeper into the hole. The stone becomes slick and crimson, as your feral digging and crawling turns your fingers into bloodied claws. You have to go deeper, you have to. The things are at the entrance, reaching in with their impossible arms and hooked claws. The space is so tight, but you force your body through regardless. Deeper and deeper you go, unable to look back or slow for a single moment. At last, you finally collapse in the small tunnel, relieved beyond belief that you finally made it. You are safe. The monsters cannot reach you. You beat them. The broken nose doesn't even pain you in the slightest, and your ruined fingers are hardly a concern. You just lay there bleeding, wheezing with your ragged lungs and ravaged throat. Despite the dripping wounds and exhausted muscles, you feel great. There has never been a better feeling in your life. The horrors of the world were after you, and you beat them. You outran death, and there is nothing sweeter than that. The blissful quiet is like music to your ears. You begin to laugh, ignorant to the pain that wracks your body. Your chuckles are raw and pathetic, but you go on regardless, drowning out the sounds of scratching. You just lay there and laugh at your victory, uncaring of the sharp pain that has pierced your sides. Your body feels like it is burning up, but the joy of survival is stronger. The world is growing dark and faded, and you feel things stab into your skin, but you are oblivious to it. You won. You escaped. Despite the odds, you escaped those horrible things and are now safe...

[magic5ball]

Nature Trail to Hell Arc IV: Megamart of Darkness (2)

Chapter 2: They Paved Paradise…

           Honestly, I didn’t know what I expected paradise to be. Back in those days, the word made me think of one of two things: sitting under a blanket all day with my video games or those scented candles Mom always got for the bathroom.

A dinky little stock pond filled so high with trout their fins were breaking the surface was the last thing I would have thought of.

           Dinky or not, though, if I just sat there it was going to be my grave, and I acted accordingly: by kicking and screaming until I got what I wanted. Like the puppy dog eyes, I figured that if they worked on my parents, they’d work on these waddly little buggers. But natural selection must have been kind to those bird brains, because they did not relent in the slightest! It was like all the sympathy had been bred out of them over generations, and the rest was squashed by some rigorous training program. Heck, they seemed to work even faster after hearing me pout.

           There was a sudden feeling of lightness as they launched my climber into the air, followed by a splash as it slapped smack dab in the middle of the pond, my body still facing skyward. The sun was shining brightly that day; right in my eyes like it was taunting me.

           Then I began to sink. It was slow at first, like quicksand (I figure it was because of all the trout buoying me) but before long the sun was blotted out by a fifteen mile cloud of shimmering fish scales. By the time I’d sunk ten feet, it might as well have been night. My screaming got real bad after that, seeing how I couldn’t die and was probably going to spend the rest of eternity with my lungs caved in. And honest, I had no idea exactly how this equaled redemption. All I could do was let my last few bubbles of oxygen bounce right out of my mouth to the surface.

“Be calm, child.”

I didn’t know whose voice I heard, but it was like a loud, low gong going off in my noggin. Would have asked who was making it, if the source wasn’t already ten steps ahead.

“I’m simply here to help, and for any duress you may have experienced, I apologize. My followers can be quite… zealous, shall we say. Live action roleplaying is not a sport for those soft of spirit.”

Just like that, the trout started fleeing to the edge of the pond, letting enough sun in for me to see the bottom. I instantly wished they hadn’t. Because right in the direction I was heading came a dark walking tsunami of a beast with eyes like embers and teeth like steak knives.

I shut my eyes as the water started rushing around me.

                                                            .   .   .

When I finally got the courage to unseal my peepers, I realized it had all been a dream. Or had it? I was still at the stock pond, only I was on the grass next to it. Most importantly, I was free! Releif didn’t last long, though. Right next to me I could see the cat climber, ripped to shreds.

“Are you awake?”

The Voice!

I turned my head back and forth, trying to see where the voice had come from. It was night out, the only light coming from a rickety old streetlamp hanging over the pond. I would have wondered about the design choices that made the owners of Paradise decide to put a lamp there of all places, but frankly, I was more startled by the voice. There was something ancient, primal about it. Not in the pretentious way the Elves spoke, but something like rumbling thunder. Or an earthquake.

“Pardon me, but I asked, are you awake?”

Whoever was talking to me, they spoke in the dinosaur tongue. And not the street slang version I’d spoken in Hell. The real stuff.  Think listening to someone talk in an Italian accent, then hearing a real Italian. Like that.

So there I was, sitting in a little island of light, surrounded by darkness, listening to a faceless voice with only a few moths for company. It was a scene straight out of those stranger danger videos they made us watch back in 1st grade, right before little Georgie got dragged into the sewers by some faceless evil for believing a sewer might have delicious lollipops. Of course, besides the creeping dread of never finding out what exactly did happen to little Georgie, I couldn’t remember a single piece of advice from that stupid film, other than run, which clearly wasn’t an option given how dark it was.

Instead, I curled up like a snail on the grass. It was my only defense.

“I do not wish to harm you, Watterson Tostig. I only want to talk.”

A pair of eyes glowed like fire in the darkness, followed by the sound of wet feet on grass, coming closer, closer…

I screamed. It honked back.

Then there was… gasping? Wheezing?

“Sweet Osiris, child, you nearly gave me a heart attack!”

           Barely heard it, though, as it was still dark and I was still scared and I was hollering my head off. Kept at it, too, for a good ten seconds before I was aware I was still alive, so whoever was talking to me must have some sense of mercy. All slow-like, with that creeping sense of dread you get at a good horror film, I opened my eyes.

           A goose. The thing I’d been scared of this whole time was a freakin’ GOOSE! Or at least the basic shape of one. Instead of the brown body and white belly of the other geese, this guy had a grey body with a black and white streak on the wing. Neck was different, too. Grey, not black, with a pink bill and a reddish brown mask over the eyes. Oh, and their tongue was covered in spikes.  

The sight of that made me scream again.

The bird sighed, calming my nerves a tad. I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that if he wanted to eat me, he’d have done so by now.

“Indeed, child. But I am no mere waterfowl: please, call me Bokrug.”

“Well, uh, thanks for saving me, Bokrug.” Most of my fear evaporated, replaced with relief I wasn’t going to be eaten alive.

“Many thanks to you as well, child, for most who have gazed upon my wretched form abscond into the night. Yet you have stayed. Would you, by chance, like to talk?”

Now imagine you’re a kid who had a goose walk up to him in the middle of the night, claiming to have saved your life. What would you do?

Long story short, I was there with Bokrug until sunrise.

We talked about… well I don’t remember this part too clear. Keep in mind I was still a ten year old who, at the time, was half asleep from exhaustion. Just that Bokrug had a lot of questions about how the world has changed in the last sixty years (apparently Elves gave him more ‘sacrifices’ than he’d ever need, but not one of the pretentious buggers could be bothered to pitch him a newspaper every once in a while).

“Once more, I would like to apologize for the behaviors of my… followers.” He sigh-honked the last part. “They have this odd habit of always sacrificing enemies to me, despite me being a pescitarian.”

“Pesci- What?”

“I eat fish.”

“Oh.”

“Watterson, I am truly grateful for your company, but before you continue on your journey back to the wretched Camp Sham (which I am sure is a long and arduous quest) there is a favor I would like to ask of you. You see, I cannot leave this pond, as I am a spirit bound to my bones. Bones residing at the bottom of this very stock pond.”

I imagined how pruned Bokrug’s feathers must have been after sixty years trapped in that dinky little fishing hole. It was not a pretty sight.

“But it was not always this way. Once, we Wood Elves lived in Paradise, usurped by a most befouled evil. My brethren shall explain in greater detail. Their skills of exposition far exceed my own. And there will be apologies, of course.”

Sure enough, I could see the little punks with their shopping carts hiding in the woods, beaks opened in shock as I made small talk with their God.

“Hey Bokrug?”

“Yes?”

“You’re not from here, are you? ‘Cause I’ve seen a lot of geese, but one with a little bandit mask over their eyes.”

“That, my child, is a story that began long ago, in a mystical land called Africa-“

“On second thought, nevermind. If it’s’ anything like the Africa stories Mom tells me, it’ll just make me feel bad about not finishing my broccoli.”

Bokrug let out a disgruntled snort as his white-cheeked worshippers waddled out from their hiding spots in the trees.

[booksummarieswithkatz]

Ribbed For Her Pleasure by Miranda Martin

Okay, terms to know can be found here. 

Now that that’s out of the way let’s get on with the story. Also I did not look up any of the characters’ names. So whatever. Also, so little happens of importance that this summary is hella short.

This book takes place in the present day, and begins with our leading lady, Female Stereotype, returning from generic Gamecon with her cat and getting ready to do a "just got back" vlog when she decides to check twitter. It turns out that some person who doesn't matter tweeted at her to take the "Celestial Mates Challenge" and get matched with her perfect alien dreamboat. Female decides that her extra "protective" fanboys would think this stunt is hilarious, and signs up. The only problem is that the app is actually a consent form created by a magical cherub who is abusing his power to timetravel for supposedly noble causes, and he needs her... for some reason?

So anyways she downloads the app and starts a vlog about how she's doing the challenge when SHABAM a tiny floating dwarf appears in her room... while she's changing. She's all like "WTF" and he's all like "no time to explain" and grabs her charizard plushie before saying "oh you are gonna love this," and poofs her away.

She appears in the air on a seemingly deserted planet. Directly above the ocean. After taking a nice bath in frigid seawater, she drags herself to shore only to see the tiny dwarf poof in again to drop a seven foot tall dragon man down into the water beside her. The dragon man is very confused, and in his strange lizard speak berates the dwarf. The dwarf just goes "ok love you bye" and vanishes, leaving two sopping wet people who don't speak the same language on an alien world with no supplies. Kind of a dick move.

So the dragon man freaks out because he's from a desert planet and the largest amount of water he's seen in one place before being dropped in the ocean was a punch bowl, and Female Stereotype freaks out because she's alone with an irritable dragon man, but they find a cave to dry off in and start a fire while trying to figure out how they were going to find any goddamn food. But it's okay, because the magic Peter Dinklage shows up like "oh shit I forgot" and throws a bunch of cocaine in their faces so they can understand each other. 

It turns out that the dragon guy's name is actually Ribbed Dick, and now that they aren't dying of hypothermia they realize that omg this person is H O T. So they start getting really weird and awkward because they're both really horny and Peter Dinklage, who is watching all of this, is like "no why aren't you fucking!?" So he decides to spice shit up with the justification of "gamers love adventure" and "dragons are generically strong and heroic" and "women like to fuck violent hypermasculine dragons, right?" and he summons a flock of velociraptors (the jurassic park kind, not the actually chicken-sized version) to attack them.

After a brief scuffle of Female Stereotype screaming and Ribbed Dick choking out dinosaurs like a boss, they realize that since they're probably going to die they actually love each other. Then they fuck. In that cave. Surrounded by dead velociraptors and viscera. As one does.

After discovering the delightful nature of Ribbed Dick’s two (yes two) ribbed dicks, the couple promptly shrivel up and attempt flaccid conversation in a feedback loop of “was it bad for him? Is that why he’s so quiet? Was it good for her? She keeps glancing at me nervously” until finally Tyrion Lannister shows up and says all of the shit that’s in their heads (cuz stalking wasn’t enough we had to add mind-reading voyeurism). Ribbed and Female realize that they are both idiots and decide that the best course of action is to just fuck again, but this time they find a beautiful nearby forest so they can have real scenic artsy sex like a high-budget porno. As one does.

So they tucker themselves out with the twin-dick tango and wake up - surprise - in Ribbed Dick’s bed, in Ribbed Dick’s house, on Ribbed Dick’s planet. Female Stereotype decides (logically for once) that Ribbed Dick may actually be in league with Tyrion Dinklage, though her presumption of  villainy is kinda farfetched. Ribbed Dick wins her over with the argument of “but we made such sweet love and I’m hot, and you’re hot, and this desert planet is hot, and really if you leave me you are going to be surrounded by dragon people who have never seen a human before and you’ll probably die because we’re actually a slave race and they’ll think you’re a spy.” Female realizes that he’s right, they are super in love, and sure her cat has been left alone for way too long and there’s like no water here on this godforsaken planet, but goddamn is the sex awesome and that’s what really matters here. LoveSex

So they resolve their differences with tonsil hockey and then Ribbed is just like “remember how I said that everyone would probably kill you as a spy, but let’s go for a walk and I’ll show you my home.” What a great fucking idea. Lo and behold, the other locals actually bring them before the council of elders to be judged as a traitor and a spy.

But everything is okay, because the grand matriach (who is just the oldest woman present) declares that they are in love and everyone can shove it up their asses.

Female Stereotype and Ribbed Dick then head home for a nice hide-the-sausage session, then Deter Pinklage shows up again and (for the fifth time in the book) goes “oh shit i forgot” and throws more cocaine in their faces, declaring that they are now biologically compatible. Somehow. The pair decides to celebrate with more sex, but Pinklage appears again just long enough to throw her cat at her. The End.

“But wait!” You say, “why did magic Tyrion need the two to get dirty anyways? Why was his time bullshit important? WHAT WAS THE FUCKING POINT?!” Well, fucking was the point but, if you insist,  it’s because apparently, in the future the entire dragon race is eliminated by a horrible plague, but introducing a single human (and forcing her to be biologically compatible with them) into the genepool at that exact moment with that exact dragon would disseminate an immunity to the entire population (or at least enough for the race to survive). So, I guess, bully for modern science?