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vee-angel · 5 years ago

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First Day of School (Part of the Sodom Virus Chronicles)

Synopsis and content warning: This series is set in a world where The Sodom Virus has infected everyone in the world. While it’s asymptomatic in males, females eventually get sick and die unless they’re regularly able to ingest sperm (for reasons not fully understood, the genetic virus seems to bond with male DNA, but only in it’s incomplete form). It can be swallowed, but is most efficiently absorbed through the membranes of the anus and (to a lesser extent) the vagina. If you want the full Introduction to the Sodom Virus universe, you can click the #sodomvirus tag at the bottom to find the post I wrote a while ago where I gave the details.

This first story details a girl named Ricki who has spent her life up until now in a religious sanctuary where she was protected from the depravity of the outside world. Now she’s going to have to go to school in the real world to catch up on her education.

Fair warning, stories set in this world will be sort of a grab-bag of extreme and taboo fetishes. Female inferiority is the central theme, but filth, violence, and abuse of all kinds will be scattered throughout the stories pretty casually.

Also, this will be my first ever illustrated story! Which is a trend I hope to continue.

* * * * *

First Subject: Female Humiliation and Degradation

“What do you mean, I’m “Property of the high-school??”

Ricki’s life had been in a rapid free-fall for the last three days. She had spent her life in a religious sanctuary where she’d been insulated from the misogynistic objectification the rest of the country participated in. She grew up hearing stories about how females were treated in the outside world. Rape, torture, humiliation, degradation. They were treated like objects with no regard for their humanity and expected to smile and thank their abusers.

As a child, Ricki had assumed that such tales were exaggerations meant to reinforce the safety of the sanctuary, but now that she’d seen a bit of the world, she wasn’t so sure.

“There’s another cunt who lives here at the school who I’ve assigned as your mentor to help you catch up on your education. You’ll meet her in your first class.”

The man across the desk from her seemed annoyed at her presence so Ricki decided against pushing further for fear of accidentally inciting some kind of punishment. “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” She replied before gathering her things and using the school-map she was given to navigate to her first classroom. As she walked, she wondered about what questions she should ask the “cunt” who was assigned to help her assimilate to this strange new world. Ricki wasn’t exactly sure what the word “cunt” meant, but she’d heard it a lot since the government raided her home a few days before, it seemed like it was a word these people used to refer to women and girls, but that was about all she could glean.

Ricki worried about her mother, the men from the government said that she had been declared a feminist and was being sent to a repository along with all the other adult women from the sanctuary. The men had been arrested and were charged with crimes as well, but she got the distinct sense that the penalty for the women was much harsher. They had told her that due to her age and circumstances, they were going to give her a chance to escape the same fate as her mother, but that she had better learn to abandon her feminist ideology “really fucking quick.”

She never thought of herself as a feminist. She grew up believing that her purpose was to be a good daughter, wife, and mother. To smile, and be pretty, and kind, and always pleasing to others. Ricki wasn’t sure how that could make her a feminist.

Well, she didn’t think it was right to be cruel to women, but that was because she didn’t think it was right to be cruel in general. Could that be it? Just because she thought women should be treated like people?

She wanted to be good, so she hoped that the other girl assigned to help her would be a good mentor. Maybe she would end up being like a big sister to her! She could only hope.

Finally, she reached the room indicated as her first class on the map. The lettering on the door read “Female Humiliation and Degradation.” Was that the name of the class?? Nerves made her pause briefly before entering, but she figured that good girls should be eager to do as they’re told, so she went in.

The first thing she noticed is that the room seemed very…. open. The far wall was almost entirely glass, overlooking a rather pleasant looking courtyard that Ricki guessed was used for leisure time between classes. There was an alternating pattern between tall, solid glass panels, and large windows that seemed able to slide up about four feet from ground level. Otherwise, the classroom seemed relatively ordinary, A few rows of neatly organized desks, and girls mulling about and chatting with one another as they wait for class to begin. The fashion sense of many of the girls was quite striking in its variety and daring. She noticed a girl she thought was wearing skin-colored leggings before realizing that she’d actually come to school completely bottomless! Ricki blushed as she wondered how common it was for girls to go around so…. on display, and turned her attention back to the lovely view through the glass wall. She briefly wondered why the windows opened from the floor, but her thoughts were interrupted by a smiling girl waving from the back of the classroom.

“Hey, you’re the new girl, right?” she called from across the room.

She turned to look at the source of the call. Whoa. The girl smiling and waving to her from the back of the room was breathtaking. So much that Ricki’s breath was literally taken. She just stared for a moment before remembering to breathe. She walked toward her and found her even more beautiful from up close.

She was tall, with long waves of cascading black hair framing exotic middle-eastern features. Sapphire eyes emphasized by dark eyeliner upon lightly tanned skin the color of beach sand. She wore a form-fitting off-the-shoulder crop top that barely covered what appeared to be very large and very perky breasts. Her bottom half was covered with what appeared to be tight blue-jeans that had a strange sort of lacing across the front.

“Hi!” Ricki greeted her new friend and extended her hand for a handshake.

The raven-haired beauty stared down at her hand, seemingly confused for a moment before understanding dawned on her. “Oh!” she said as she grabbed Ricki’s wrist and pressed her hand against her left breast, “You don’t need to wait for permission, you stupid cunt, you can just grab my tits whenever you want! That goes for all girls, by the way. Unless a man tells you not to.”

“Oh! Umm, thank you.” Ricki replied. She wasn’t really into girls sexually, but she didn’t want to make things harder for herself by being rude, so she made an effort to give the firm, perky orb a nice squeeze before removing her hand. “They’re very nice!”

“They’re fake, I used to have pathetic, ugly little C-cups like you, so I had to get pumped full of silicone so I could have a cute, little pair of bolt-on bimbotits.”

The way she spoke was jarring, both because of the insults she casually hurled at Ricki, and because of the dehumanizing way she spoke of herself.

“I’m Ricki, by the way.” she introduced herself, resisting the urge to extend her hand again.

“What a stupid name for a cunt.” she said giggling slightly, “I’m Sharaje” she said before leaning forward and pressing her pillowy scarlet lips against Ricki’s.

She tried not to seem unnerved by the emotional whiplash of Sharaje insulting her name and then kissing her on the mouth. In a weird way, the mean things she was saying didn’t seem hostile. She’d been smiling the whole time, it was more like she just casually disrespects all women out of habit.

This put Ricki in a predicament, would it be seen as “feminist” if she failed to disrespect Sharaje in return, or was she obligated to submit to her as a superior? When in doubt, she defaulted to being nice. “That’s a very pretty name.”

“Thanks, it means butthole. That’s my best feature.” Sharaje turned around to reveal that the jeans she was wearing were actually a very fashionable garment Ricki would later learn were called “Spreaders.” The middle section of the back was cut out, with the remaining fabric held up with what seemed to be some kind of adhesive attaching them to her butt cheeks. The laces she’d noticed on the front now made sense, as they allowed Sharaje to tighten the front of the garment in order to spread her ass apart, ensuring that her anus was perpetually on display. And while Ricki hadn’t made it a habit of admiring other girl’s assholes, she had to admit, Sharaje’s was remarkably pretty. Flawlessly clean-looking, lightly-tanned skin led to a tiny muscular pucker.

“It looks like a virgin’s huh? Can you believe I get buttfucked like ten times a day?”

She couldn’t believe it. Ten times a day?? She’d heard that women in the outside world were treated like sex objects, but surely Sharaje was exaggerating.

“So… umm, they said you were assigned to be my mentor or something? They didn’t really explain much.”

Sharaje turned to face her again, “Yeah, they told me you were in some kind of fucked-up chastity cult and-” She stopped mid-sentence to deliver a sharp slap across Ricki’s face. “Hey! Stare at my tits when I’m talking to you!”

Ricki was stunned, but obeyed, turning her eyes to stare intently at the perky nipples straining against the tight, plum colored fabric as she continued.

“So anyway, they thought I’d be good at de-programming all the stuff your ugly, feminist cunt-mom and her cult friends taught you because I’m captain of the bullying squad here.”

“Bullying squad? What’s-”

Ricki was interrupted by a twenty-something statuesque blonde woman who entered and stood at the front of the class. “Okay, sluts,” she announced with a serious expression, “Class is starting, so get your sexy teenage asses in your seats.” The girls scattered around the room casually made their way to desks. Sharaje indicated at a seat directly in front of her where Ricki was to sit.

The teacher’s face turned to a look of shameful resignation as she introduced herself, “I’m Miss Fartface, please feel welcome to fart in my face because I love the smell and taste of dirty teen girl assholes.” Her voice was mechanical, as though forced to read from a script. The students laughed at her.

Ricki felt Sharaje’s breath on her ear as she whispered, “She’s actually straight, and a major germaphobe. Her owner makes her act like she’s obsessed with face-fucking our shitters to humiliate her.”

The teacher went on, now speaking more naturally, “I understand we have a new student joining us today.” she said looking at Ricki; or more accurately, at her tits, “Would the new cunt please come to the front of the class and introduce herself?”

Ricki’s heart was beating in her throat, but she made her way to the front of the room on shaky legs. All the other girls appeared to be staring at her body judgmentally; she’d never felt more on display.

“M- my name is R-Ricki,” she began unsteadily. She could already see a lot of the other girls in class openly showing disgust at her name. “My stupid feminist mom cunt gave me that name… umm, I grew up in a… a fucked-up chastity cult… and that was bad? But now I’m going to try to learn how to not be a dumb feminist, and to be a good girl, like all of you?”

She looked out at the rows of desks hoping to see a glimmer or approval, she was trying to hard to assimilate to their world, but it seemed so unfamiliar to her.

A sudden voice from the back of the room broke the silence, “Hey, show us your pussy!” It was Sharaje. She wasn’t sure what she should do. Was it just an obscene jeer that she could ignore? Several seconds of silence passed. Ricki looked around to see expectant faces. She tried to go on as though nothing had happened. “I look forward to making a lot of new friend-”

“Ricki, you’ve been given a command.” The teacher stated flatly. She couldn’t believe this was real. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t have been so bad. It was a room full of girls, after all. But Ricki was getting the distinct impression that the other girls were waiting to mock and criticize her most private areas. What was worse was that it appeared that one of the other classes had let out recently, and the courtyard just past the floor-to-ceiling windows was filling up with students of both genders who could easily see into the classroom.

“Are you fucking retarded? If I have to ask again, I’m going to strip you naked myself and have every girl in class fist you. At the same time.” Sharaje had a certain authority to her words that made her believe the threat wasn’t hollow.

Ricki lifted the hem of her dress high enough that she could pin it to her chest with her chin, then hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and pulled them to the floor to reveal a rather unkempt patch of fur between her legs.

She heard a few of the girls pointedly making noises of disgust at the sight of her ungroomed bush, but before anyone could articulate an insult, an Asian girl cosplaying some slutty anime character spoke up.

“Hey, what’s that weird diaper thing she was wearing under her dress?” For a brief moment, Ricki’s humiliation was replaced with confusion. Diaper thing?

“They’re called panties,” the teacher began, “They’re not very common anymore, but before the Virus, almost all women wore them under their clothes. Nowadays, they’re mostly worn when men dress up girls in historically accurate costumes.”

“Wait,” a different girl chimed in, “Wouldn’t cunts need to take them off every time they got fucked?”

“Oh!” Yet another girl began, “Girls used to get, like, pussy-diseases back then, huh? I bet those pantie-thingies used to be, like, a code so that everyone would know that a girl was just for face-fucking, right?”

“That’s a good guess, Ditzy, but no.” Miss Fartface explained. “Actually, before the Virus, the average girl went weeks or months without being fucked. By some reports, certain women actually went years.” A few of the students looked shocked or saddened.

Ricki wanted to cover her naked crotch during this exchange, but dared not cover herself without permission.

“But didn’t they get sick and die if they didn’t get fucked everyday???” Ditsy asked.

“She’s talking about before the Virus, stupid!” A nerdy looking girl in a too-small school-girl outfit said condescendingly to Ditsy. “I read that girl’s used to live as long as men, but hardly any of them got to have sex more than a few times a week.”

“Oh my god! Did men used to be, like, super mean in the old days?!?” Ditzy exclaimed.

“That’s enough, cunts.” The teacher said, quieting the chatter. “Actually, men have always been kind enough to fuck us, and at many points in history, they tried to create societies to put women in our proper place where we could be happy as servants and fucktoys; However, these men endured abuse and harassment at the hands of feminists who believed that cunts deserved to be equal to men.”

Sharaje raised her hand.

“Yes, Sharaje?”

“How did they think cunts could be equal? I mean, everything I do is to please men. The way I talk, the way I eat, the way I dress. I abuse other cunts because it gets me attention from men. So if feminists somehow didn’t care about pleasing men, than why do anything? Did they just want to lay in the dirt until they die? What’s the purpose of a cunt even existing if she doesn’t please anyone? It’s not like girls can get pleasure without men.”

The blonde teacher just shrugged, “I’m sorry, but I really don’t know. It’s true that the health and happiness of cunts is conditional upon their ability to serve and please the superior sex; and that’s been explained to feminists many times throughout history, but somehow they were too stupid to even understand that simple fact. It’s why the Sodom Virus was such a godsend. Who knows how long it would have taken society to progress to where we are today without it. And while we’re on the topic of pleasing men, why don’t we all go around the room and mention one way that our new student here could improve her fuckhole?”

With that, the classes attention was back on Ricki, or more accurately, their attention was on her exposed genitals. The teacher went down each row.

“It’s way too hairy. Some men like that, but she needs to at least trim it properly.”

“Her pussy-lips are too big, she needs to get those trimmed, too.”

“Also, do you see how dark they are?! Look really close, her whole pussy is a darker color than the rest of her. It’s so fucking disgusting!”

“It should be puffier. Puffy pussies like mine are super cute. Hers isn’t cute at all.

“She needs to spread her legs more; She doesn’t even know how to show her fuckhole correctly!”

“Well her thighs are so short and fat, even if she did spread, you can barely even see her pussy through all the flab.”

“I don’t think we talked about her cuntlips enough. They’re wrinkly, too. It’s super gross, it looks like she stuffed roast beef in her twat and some of it’s coming out.”

“It looks like it smells bad, too.”

“Oh my god, you’re, like, so totally right! I don’t want to get close enough, but it looks like it’d smell like dead fish!”

“It wouldn’t even be sexy to make a girl eat her out. A man would only make me lick her pussy if he was punishing me!”

The onslaught of humiliating insults wasn’t even half over, and Ricki was already openly bawling. The girls seemed indifferent to her tears as they continued hurling deeply personal jabs about her most intimate area while she was forced to display herself. She could barely see through the tears, but she could still tell that there was a small cluster of boys and girls looking through the window and giggling to one another as they observed the degrading ritual.

Thankfully, it was nearly over. Sharaje was the last one to comment on her parts.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t even call that thing between her legs a pussy. There’s no way it could ever please anyone. If I were her, I’d just get the whole thing cut off and sew up the hole. Better to be a two-hole whore than to make men look at something that fucking ugly.”

Somehow, Sharaje’s comment hurt the worst. Being taught that her primary reason for existing in this world was to get fucked, and then being told that the hole created solely for that purpose was worthless devastated her. It made her feel like a failure as a woman.

Ricki made her way back to the empty seat in front of Sharaje and wept quietly as the teacher spent the next few minutes explaining the intricacies of female humiliation and degradation. Focusing mainly on their necessity to inoculate against the threat of feminism. She used the verbal hazing Ricki had just endured as an example multiple times throughout the lecture.

Eventually the teacher segued into explaining their assignment for the upcoming week. “You are each going to be given two cards, one of them is going to have a fetish that will degrade, dehumanize, and/or objectify you. The other card will have your enjoyment level of the fetish; categorized as reluctant, eager, or desperate. Each of you is to sincerely live and embody your assigned fetish with your assigned enjoyment level for the next week. And for those of you who choose “reluctant,” you still need to make every available attempt to fulfill your new fetish, even though it humiliates or disgusts you!” she finished with a smile. Miss Fartface seemed to have plenty of experience being forced to live out a fetish she hated, so perhaps the smile was due to a certain sense of sadism at getting to have her students do the same.

“Sharaje, you went last when we were shaming Ricki for her ugly cunt-hole, why don’t you go first this time and show the other girls how to properly announce their new fetishes to the class.”

“Sure! But since you’re not going to be using your tongue to lecture, you really should be using it to clean all of our assholes, don’t you think? I mean, that is your favorite thing in the world, isn’t it??

The teacher’s smile faded and she stared daggers at the middle-eastern beauty. “Yes, of course.” She said in a reluctant monotone, “I’d love to shove my tongue in each and every one of your dirty teen assholes.”

“And?” Sharaje pushed with a sadistic grin.

The older woman sighed, “And thank you again for making me follow you to the bathroom last week so that you could use my tongue as toilet paper, Sharaje. I can never thank you enough for allowing me to use my ugly old tongue to lick the shit from your perfect, young asshole. I beg you to please let me do it again as soon as possible, and as often as possible.” Miss Fartface was almost sneering in disgust at the memory, but at the same time, there was no way she could refuse to humiliate herself while teaching a class on female humiliation. Sharaje delighted at the torment as she skipped to the front of the class where the blonde woman grimaced as she forced her tongue inside the pristine teen anus.

Sharaje flipped over the cards assigned to her and her face lit up. “Yes! I got the best one!” She looked out at the other girls in class with a toothy smile and even waved to some of the students out past the window to come closer to hear.

“So I know I’ve never mentioned this before, but it’s actually probably my biggest kink. I’ve always had this fantasy of getting fucked by dogs while a lot of people watch. And I mean, like, a LOT of people. The way I picture it, everybody has their camera phones out and they’re getting good shots of dog-cock in my pussy and ass. Maybe videos of me sucking a dog’s dick straight out of my butthole. Definitely get my face in the picture, and post it online with my name and ID number. I want everyone to know forever that I’m a dog-fucker. It should be the first picture that comes up anytime someone searches for me online. I seriously want it to follow me around for the rest of my life. I’m super glad I got an “eager” card for this, because there’s no way I could be reluctant, it’s just… Oh my god, it’s just the hottest fucking thing to think about, I almost came as soon as I turned the card over.”

She finished by roughly yanking the teacher’s face from between her butt-cheeks and returning to her seat. The next girl took her place at the front of the class and explained her fetish while being rimmed by the teacher. Ricki wasn’t exactly sure if all the girls were acting like they loved the fetishes they were supposed to love and hated the ones they were supposed to hate, or if the teacher was just nice enough to make things easy on them. Either way, she learned a variety of things about the strange, horrible, and disgusting acts that some people seem to fetishize.

Finally it was her turn. She timidly made her way up to the front of the class. She gasped slightly when the teacher lifted the hem of her dress, pulled down her panties to began tongue-fucking her ass. Even though she’d seen it happen to about two dozen girls before her, she still wasn’t totally prepared for it.

She turned over her cards one at a time. “Reluctant” was written on the first. Good, she thought, at least she wouldn’t need to pretend to like whatever horrible thing she had to say she was into. She turned the other card over and her heart sank. Tears once again began to well up in her eyes.

Without looking up, she began, “Hi… so my fetish, which I love, is having my pussy destroyed, and made even uglier than it already is. I want… I…” She broke down and heaved heavy tears for several seconds before she could continue. The teacher being forced to tongue-rape her up the ass didn’t relent. “I want my vagina so totally destroyed that it can never bring me pleasure. So that I can be denied orgasms for the rest of my life, and so that my pussy gets so ugly that no one would ever think of fucking it ever again.”

She tried to control her weeping while she rushed back to her desk. The teacher said that this concluded first period and that they could socialize while waiting for their next class. Sharaje wasted no time and was already being sodomized by a boy who’d been waiting outside. Another girl was on her knees letting a man piss in her mouth through the strangely low windows. Ricki seemed to have figured out the purpose for their unusual placement now.

Everything going on around her was so obscene, it was like the men in this world regarded them as little more than masturbation toys. Was she really never going to get to go back to her old life? Was she really going to have to ask people to destroy her vagina so that she could never have another orgasm? Everything was already so horrible and it was only just the end of first period!

#sodomvirus sodomviruschronicles #sodomvirus

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jack-katz · 4 years ago

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selling out // self

Meanwhile, across town...

[The scene opens on our three main characters.]

RICARDO “RICKY” ISLES. He’s the oldest of the three. Has more under his belt than them - professionally, financially, personally. Had his kids when he was young. Still with the mother, don’t get some fucked up idea of him just yet. He’s always been the funny friend, the funny brother. Now he’s the funny comedian, the funny actor, the funny producer. He can bankroll a film - partially. He still needs support - professionally, financially, artistically. A funny idea he shared with his friends when he was drunk is now their movie.

HUEY VASQUEZ. Second oldest. Personally? We don’t get into that. But professionally, you fucking know him. Made his name as a name bigger than the live show he starred on. Any comedic movie his name is attached to will get a review on the front-page of the entertainment section your under-subscribed local newspaper. Huey loved the funny idea Ricky had for a movie and expanded on it over drinks and cocaine in Ricky’s garage in a Los Angeles suburb while Ricky’s kids were sleeping.

JOHN “JACK” / “JACKIE” KATZ. He’s only Jackie when he’s with Huey and Ricky. The EEE Production Company is what will come out of this, but we aren’t at that part of the story yet. He made his name on an American live show, then hopped overseas and has been catching roles in comedies ever since (and that one indy and a damn West End production, but who gives a fuck?). There’s also that feature film coming out. Unimpressive, in his eyes, because it wasn’t his. Ricky told Jack about the ideas him and Huey were bouncing around (over cocaine and drinks, of course). “Jackie, you’ll love it. You’ll piss your pants.” He hadn’t, but nearly, and that was enough. He was in love. And just like any man in love, he wanted more from it. He’s one of the three main characters, but he has yet to realize he’s the protagonist in this story.

[Getting back to it: The scene opens on our three main characters.

The three boys are sitting at a table. JACK has a set at that comedy club that very night. The boys appear distraught, contemplative. They’ve clearly received some bad news.]

RICKY: This motherfucker seriously pulled out.

HUEY: That’s what your mom said.

RICKY: Shut th-

JACK: So, how much money do we have?

HUEY: You wanna mention money in a room full of comedians, Katz?

JACK: Dude-

HUEY: I forgot, you’re a serious man, Jackie. Wanna make it a serious fucking movie.

JACK: The fuck-

RICKY: Hue, man. You really think this isn’t better off all around?

[HUEY doesn’t respond, just lights up a smoke and has the cigarette immediately put out under the heel of a passing waitress. He eyes up the woman, JACK and RICKY punch him in the arm at the same time.]

HUEY: Where are we gonna get this fucking money? Shit’s done for. We’ll have to call Yanik, Eleanor, everyone, tell them what the fuck happened. You wanna do that, Jackie? Make those calls?

[JACK has no response, just finishes his drink a little too quickly and looks down at the table. Oh right, it was left out of his bio - he has a kid on the way, a friend he knocked up on what was supposed to be a fun night. He’d promised burgers for her at 11:30 p.m. That was before he heard the news.]

JACK: You two... [He finally looked up from the table. He’s not trying to stroke egos. He’s being genuine here.] Someone’s going to be interested in what you guys have to put out.

RICKY: Remember all those assholes pulling their hair out after Cancer? [He’s referring to Cancer, Leo, Virgo, the comedic film he produced and starred in with JACK as his co-star.] I think one of ‘em’s ready to dole out.

HUEY: Dole out? He wants to get in on this?

JACK: It’s not -

RICKY: It is, but- [He stops short when JACK walks away.]

[Scene dissolves to JACK pacing in a small, dark room as he waits to go up for his set. A tall, gray-haired man enters. It’s RODNEY. A producer. We don’t need to get into his history, recent or past; you won’t like it, anyway. But he’s the lifeline. The only thing that gets this - this movie JACK has hooked his entire life and profession on for months - into production.]

RODNEY: I’ll make you a deal.

JACK: Rodney, I, uh, I appreciate your interest, but -

RODNEY: The deal is this: you make me laugh, I give you money.

JACK: This is a comedy club, that’s n-

RODNEY: So make me fucking laugh.

[HUEY and RICKY are back at the table. JACK’s empty glass is still there.]

HUEY: He better be fucking funny.

RICKY: Of course he’ll be fucking funny.

HUEY: This is fucked up, man.

RICKY: It’s important, man.

HUEY: If Jackie fucks this up.

RICKY: Jackie won’t fuck it up.

HUEY: Does he realize this is the end for him, too, if he fucks up? This little fucking club?

[JACK walks on stage. Suddenly, under pressure, his long rehearsed tight-five goes out the window. He’s ad-libbing, but it’s clear he’s nervous. The jokes aren’t landing. Camera cuts to RODNEY, unimpressed and stony-raced. RICKY and HUEY give him a thumbs’ up from the crowd. The small boost actually does a little to reassure JACK. The ad-libbing picks up, finds a rhythm - just in time for him to be up against the clock on his time. RODNEY is seen again in the crowd, still unfazed. JACK doesn’t do crowd work often, but he makes an attempt. It’s sticky at first - he’s pushing time and he knows it. He’s trying to make complex jokes that are falling short on laughs.]

JACK: You, what’s your name?

CROWD MEMBER #1: Harry.

JACK: And you’re here without Meghan tonight?

CROWD MEMBER #1: Uh-huh, yeah.

JACK: Already moving on, you’re fucking boring. You? What’s your name? No, not you. Yes, you.

RODNEY: Rod.

JACK: What do you do, Rod?

RODNEY: I’m a, uh, banker.

JACK: Really? What do you do as a banker, Roddey?

RODNEY: I help people as much as I can.

JACK: Do you think - Roddey, do you think the people you helped are satisfied?

RODNEY: I hope so.

JACK: And do you think you actually help people? Do you show up when they have events you sponsor? When they have their grand-openings at the buildings you financed?

RODNEY: I help as much as I can. I come as much as I can.

JACK: You know, Rodney, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Your mom said the same thing last night.

[There’s hesitant laughter and applause as RODNEY slowly smiles. JACK looks embarrassed by his own joke, but if it works, it works.]

[The three main characters are at the table again. All have fresh drinks, all take a sip at the same time.]

JACK: He smiled.

HUEY: He didn’t laugh.

JACK: I-

HUEY: He’s a cunt, Jack, don’t-

JACK: I have that house, I could get-

RICKY: Jackie...

[The three men exchange glances one by one. They all take a drink at once. Then another.]

RICKY: I’ll call my wife tomorrow morning.

HUEY: I’ll call my accountant.

JACK: I’ll call a realtor.

#th:self #self-para #para #work:arch angels #selling out #th:huey #th:ricky

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roslinadama-sinequanon · 7 years ago

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Christmas in Connecticut-Chapter 13

A little fun Christmas fluff-Because it’s pretty evident that Andy is a dog person. Anyone else ever notice how much he seemed to like the dogs they came across on the show, he had real affectdion for them (as a dog lover I noticed and appreciated this). I remember the little one he raced off to catch and was then cuddling in his arms--Provenza made him give the dog to Rusty to walk and get back to work. Provenza is NOT a dog person. Anyway, that’s where the inspiration for the first scene comes from.

Also in this chapter we meet Sharon’s sister and brother in law, Christine and Ed. For reference, when writing them I pictured Dana Delaney and Brian Dennehy.

You can find Chapter 13 here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13293105/chapters/30889320

and here:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12789981/13/Christmas-in-Connecticut

and here:

Sleigh bells ring, are you listening In the lane snow is glistening A beautiful sight, we're happy tonight Walking in a winter wonderland

Gone away is the bluebird Here to stay is a new bird He sings a love song as we go along Walking in a winter wonderland

In the meadow we can build a snowman Then pretend that he is Parson Brown He'll say, "Are you married?" We'll say, "No man" But you can do the job when you're in town

Later on we'll conspire As we dream by the fire To face unafraid, the plans that we've made Walking in a winter wonderland

***

“So, you like dogs?”

Andy glanced away from TV at William’s question. He’d been so engrossed in the football game, he’d hardly been aware that Guinness had jumped up on the couch and had his big golden head resting on his lap. Or that he’d been patting that head.

“Yeah, I do. We had one when Nic was a kid. Cute little mutt.” He’d lost Bandit in the divorce, along with Nicole. At least with Nicole he’d gotten visitation rights. Not so with Bandit. “After my divorce there was no way I could take care of a dog on my schedule. You can’t have a dog when you’re getting stuck at work for sometimes 13 or 14 hours. But someday, maybe when I retire, I‘d like to get another one.”

“That’s why Mom never let us have a dog,” Ricky said. From the tone of his voice, Andy could tell this had been a bone of contention in the Raydor household.

“Ricky, you know I would love to have had a dog, but like Andy said, it wouldn’t have been fair to the dog. I didn’t work the crazy hours he did, at least not once I moved to the PSB, but with work and you and Emily and all your extracurricular activities there just wasn’t time.” She left out the dealing with everything “on my own” but it was there, and they all knew it.”

“Besides, Mom let us have cats.” Emily jumped in to her mother’s defense.

Ricky nodded. “Princess Buttercup.”

Rusty raised an eyebrow. “Princess Buttercup? That’s what you named your cat?”

“It’s from the Princess Bride,” Emily said.

“What’s the Princess Bride?”

“You’ve never seen the Princess Bride? What did you, live under a…” Ricky stopped himself, horrified at his open mouth insert foot moment.

Rusty flushed, as the room grew quiet. He was embarrassed to know they were all thinking about his horrible childhood of abuse and neglect, but before the moment could become even more awkward with Ricky starting to apologize, Andy interjected.

“It’s a great movie.”

“You watched the Princess Bride? And you liked it?” Rusty snickered at the idea of Andy Flynn watching a movie with that title.

“Dozens of times. It was Nic’s favorite movie. And yes, I liked it.”

“It’s still one of my favorite movies,” Nicole said.

“Don’t let the name fool you. It really is a great movie,” Ricky agreed. “It’s not just some sappy girly love story. It’s funny.”

“And full of swashbuckling adventure,” Andy added.

“Swashbuckling?” Rusty was still skeptical.

“Yeah, you know, pirate stuff, sword fights. When we get back to LA, we’ll have a movie night and watch it together. It’s one of your mother’s favorites too.”

“Not that there is anything wrong with sappy girly love stories.” Sharon ruffled Ricky’s hair as she walked past him to sit beside Andy on the couch. “And as far as pets go, let’s remember that against my better judgment, I let you get a lizard.”

Andy turned to look at her. “You had a lizard?”

“I didn’t have a lizard, Ricky did.”

“After she refused to let me get a snake.”

Sharon shivered at the memory. “No snakes in my house. We compromised on the lizard…What?” She asked at Andy’s grin.

“Nothing. I was just thinking--you’re the master negotiator at work AND at home.”

“Yes, well, that negotiation came back to bite me on the…well, rear end,” she said, keeping it clean for the little ones who were laying on the floor playing ‘Chute‘s and Ladders‘. “Ricky broke his arm playing Pop Warner football and guess who had to clean the lizard cage?”

“Terrarium,” Ricky corrected.

“Cage, terrarium, whatever you want to call it, I had to clean it.”

“Aw, Mom, you know you developed a nice little relationship with Draco.”

“If by nice little relationship you mean I stopped nearly having a nervous breakdown every time I had to pick him up, then yes, I did.”

Andy squeezed Sharon’s hand. “You have a great mom, Ricky. If I’d ever had a lizard my mother would have let it die before touching it.”

****

White wash!” Ricky raced out from behind his fort like a World War 1 soldier charging out of the trenches and chased Emily with a large pile of snow in his hand.

“Don’t you dare!” She shrieked, slipping on the ice as she tried to avoid being slammed in the face with the pile of snow. “Ricky stop, I can’t afford to hurt my foot again.”

Ricky stopped, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Oh, you’re good sis.”

“What’s a whitewash?” Scott asked, ducking his head behind the wall of snow that protected him from the snowballs whizzing overhead. Everyone had gone out to the front lawn bundled up against the cold to help the kids build a snowman, after which Ricky had suggested building forts, picking teams and having a snowball fight.

Andy grinned at the boys and bent to pick up a pile of snow before approaching Sharon with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “I’ll show you what a whitewash is.” Seeing what he was all about she turned to make her get away but he grabbed her by the coat before she could bolt.

“Andy, Andy stop!” Her tone was far more commanding that Emily’s shriek.

“Just trying to educate the boys.”

“Andy I mean it---”While trying to twist out of his grip, they both lost their balance and fell back into a large snow bank. Andy rolled on top of her his eyebrows twitching in what he thought was a menacing manner but which only made Sharon giggle.

“I’ve got you just where I want you pretty maiden.”

“Andy.” Her voice grew low, threatening. “I swear to God if you whitewash my face there will be a certain part of your anatomy that will not be functioning properly for the rest of this vacation.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, wouldn’t I?”

“You‘d be cutting off your nose to spite your face.”

Sharon lifted her knee. “Try me.”

Andy dropped the snow and quickly rolled off her. “Okay, you win.”

“Oh for goodness sakes. She can‘t knee me in the balls.”

With that statement, Sharon felt an icy handful of snow smashed forcefully into her face.

“Now that boys, is a whitewash.”

Gasping and sputtering, Sharon quickly rubbed the snow out of her eyes so she could see her assailant. There she stood, familiar hazel eyes dancing with mirth, her hands on her hips and a cocky smile.

Sharon rose, eyes narrowing in her best Darth Raydor glare. “Christine Mary O’Dwyer Simmons, YOU are going to pay for that.”

“Oh yeah, who’s gonna make me?”

Before Christine could even blink Sharon had hooked a foot behind her calf and pulled her feet out from beneath her so she fell into the same soft pile of snow, then treated her to her very own whitewash.

“That’s enough girls.” Colleen had come out of the house when she’d heard the car drive up and was surveying her daughters with a shake of her head. “You two sound exactly like you did when you were eight and nine years old.”

Sharon and Christine grinned at each as Sharon extended a hand to help her sister up out of the snow. “Good to see, sis.” She said.

“You too.” Christine pulled her into an exuberant hug. “Where the hell did you learn how to do that? I didn’t even see it coming.”

“You don’t mess with a cop, Chrissie.”

“Geez. I guess not.”

Andy watched the sisters with amusement. This was a completely new side of Sharon. “You must be Christine,” he said stepping forward with interest. There was no denying the two were blood. Though Christine was a little shorter than Sharon was and as he got closer he noticed that her eyes were hazel rather than Sharon’s vivid green, they shared the same porcelain and rose complexion dotted with a few whimsical freckles and the same thick auburn hair, though Christine wore hers in a shorter pixyish cut while Sharon’s fell over her shoulders in waves. If he had to classify them, he’d call Christine cute, while Sharon was beautiful. Then again, he might be a touch biased. No one, in his eyes, could hold a candle to his Sharon.

“Must be. And you must be the very dashing Andy Flynn.” After shaking his hand, Christine looked him up and down. “You’re even better looking in person.” Andy laughed at the flirtatious flutter of her eyelashes.

Sharon groaned. “For God sake Christine, do you have to say absolutely everything that pops into your head?”

“Uh, yes.” Christine was as irreverent as Sharon was circumspect.

“Are they always like this?” Andy turned to the heavyset bearded man who was also watching with amusement.

“Pretty much.”

“Hey Ed.” Sharon stepped into the big man’s embrace.

“Hey, gorgeous. I don’t know how you do it Sharon; you get more beautiful every time I see you.”

“Quit flirting with my sister.” Christine’s protest was belied by her affectionate smile.

“Just stating facts. The O’Dwyer girls are something to look at, wouldn’t you say?”

“I would,” Andy agreed.

“Andy, this is my brother in law Ed Simmons. He‘s not even Irish but he‘s got the gift of the blarney. Ed, Andy Flynn.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“You too. You’re a cop right?”

“Yes, a lieutenant with the LAPD.”

“And Sharon’s your boss.”

“Yep.” Andy grinned, not at all put out by that fact. “Best boss I‘ve ever had.

“I bet. So, what’s that like? Is it kind of sexy, being bossed around by your girlfriend? That can be a turn on.”

“Ed!”

“Actually, sometimes it is.”

“Andy!” Sharon shoved at him with her shoulder.

“What? I’m just saying…. “

Sharon cut him off, turning to the rest of the family. “Why don’t we all go in for some hot chocolate? How does that sound? “

“It sounds like you’re changing the subject.” Andy fell in step with her as everyone began heading back toward the house. “And you’re turning a pretty shade of red.”

“Must be a hot flash.”

“Yeah, that’s it.” Andy chuckled at her discomfort.

“You need to behave. “ Sharon pointed a warning finger at him, which only made Andy laugh harder.

“There you go again, getting all bossy. “ He leaned in closer so only she would hear. He didn‘t want to completely embarrass her. “It is a turn on, you know.”

“Andy Flynn you’re incorrigible.” Her reprimand was laced with amusement. This boyish, playful, slightly naughty side to Andy had always been irresistible to her.

“Mmmhmmm. And you love me for it.”

Oh yes she did.

***

Once inside the foyer, with coats and hats removed, there were hugs all around. Sharon was hugging her youngest niece Bridget who was in grad school and had come down from Massachusetts with her parents when she saw Christine hugging Ricky. Her sister’s eyes clouded over with pain, but it was only for an instant and anyone who didn’t know her as well as Sharon might have missed it. By the time she had pulled back, to look up at her nephew Christine was grinning and teasing him about his scruff.

“Hard to believe this tall young man came from your body, isn’t it?” she said to Sharon.

Sharon turned wistful. “It is. I can still remember so clearly how easily he fit in the crook of my arm.”

The sad look touched Christine’s face again compelling Sharon to take her hand, squeezing it gently. Their eyes met, acknowledging that pain without a word.

TBC

#sharon raydor #andy flynn #shandy #Major Crimes #christmas in connecticut #sharonmattered

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ecotone99 · 5 years ago

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[SF] The Gulf | Ep. 3: Last Ditch Effort

“You spent $30,000 on those rare fish for your aquarium last month!” I exclaim.

“Don’t drag my fish into this, they are innocent,” my dad retorts. “Besides they actually have the chance of paying me back when they start popping out $5,000 babies.”

He doesn’t even care.

“You probably have $50,000 lost in the sofa!”

I notice how strange this idiom is as soon as it comes out of my mouth. Cash and coins hardly exist anymore… no one loses money in the sofa. “Dollar” is just a unit of measurement, not one specific currency. But I’m too angry to consider where exactly I pulled the reference from.

“You won’t keep your kid out of prison?” I continue.

“It’s the principle,” my dad says. He’s not yelling, he never yells.

“Dad! If you just pay 40 of the 70 thousand, they’ll let me work the rest off without confinement.”

He’s shaking his head slightly, and making that tucked-in-lip face; the one people make when they pass a stranger on the street.

“I’ll pay you back…” I try, exasperated. Nothing. “Don’t you have insurance to cover things like this?”

“We self insure for things like this. So imagine me as your insurance agent. I deny your claim for violating the terms of the agreement,” my dad says. “Remember how I told you that you should look into buying defense insurance for yourself? Maybe you could have got the renegade plan, or something, and they would cover things like this, I don’t know.”

He is not budging. Not even showing any emotion. That is what is so frustrating. If he was pissed-off I could work with it. Emotional responses cool down and things change. But my dad’s decision isn’t going to change. He’s not upset. There is nothing to cool down. He just made a logical decision.

I’m nothing like him.

“I’m going to prison! And you could stop it without even noticing!”

“You know this affects my business Dege. Who knows how much you cost us by insulting Francesco? He’s a big buyer.”

“Are you hearing me?! PRISON!” I pronounce the word with emphasis but I’m not quite yelling. “And all you care about is your business?!”

“Oh stop being so dramatic,” my dad says, breaking eye contact. He takes a sip of his drink.

“Dramatic,” I repeat indignantly. “Do you know what happens in prison?”

“Yeah, you learn some discipline,” he responds.

“No,” I say shaking my head, “You get raped! Is that what you want, for me to get raped?!”

“Rodigio, this isn’t 2000. Statistically, you’re more likely to get raped at those clubs you frequent.”

“Well it’s still two years on an island with all men.” I shoot back, “Don’t be surprised when your son comes home hanging off the bicep of Buff Jimmy, the reformed pirate.”

“We should be so lucky,” my dad scoffs. “A stern man is what you needed in your life all along. I blame myself. But anyway, there’s actually an island for female confines, and you all get to meet up twice a week. Haven’t you even checked out the website?”

I turn to my mom. “Is that what you want?” I say slow and serious. “For me to come home with a bull-dike-looking prison bitch named Ricky?”

“Oh you have such an imagination!” She says, “You’re such a natural storyteller, with your creative names and flare for drama. You should spend your extra time on the island writing stories! Or maybe work on your acting? You were always so good in those plays, you loved them.”

She’s serious too, not even trolling. She will always side with my dad. He convinced her a few years ago that she was an enabler of my “irresponsible behaviour.” This is just how she tries to stay positive.

My mom forces a smile, “Maybe it will be like camp,” she sort of laughs and shrugs.

I put my face in my hands realizing that my parents are about to abandon me to a prison island.

“I can’t believe you two are doing this to me!” I whimper.

“We aren’t doing this to you, Dege,” my dad says with candor, “We just aren’t bailing you out this time. It’s two years, less if you actually learn to do something people want to pay for.”

My mom is shaking her head in agreement, looking between my dad and me.

“It will be good for you sweetie. Don’t you want to learn a meaningful skill, go out on your own at some point?” Then she adds quickly, “Not that you’re not always welcome here!”

My heart is beating faster. It’s sinking in that I am about to go to a prison camp for two years. And that means missing New Year’s Eve in Barracuda. That means being separated from Majorie.

“Why do you both hate me!? If it was Raji you would pay it!” I am desperate and lashing out.

“You know what,” my dad says, “your attitude just proves all the more that it is high time you take a little responsibility for your actions.”

“Who buys a glass ball that costs more than I make in a year!? And I didn’t know his stupid statue would break.”

“Exactly. You didn’t know. But that didn’t stop you from doing something impulsive and destructive.”

“I was drunk!” I shout indignantly.

“That’s not an excuse,” he says, still infuriatingly calm.

“And that’s the other reason this will be good for you.” My mom adds. “They don’t allow alcohol on the island, and I think it will do you some good to stay sober for a while… clear your head.”

“You better get packing,” my dad says.

I’m back in my room. I still cannot accept it. I have one more thing I could try… I can ask Dean. But I don’t want to.

And yet, I make the call anyway.

“I can’t even believe you’re asking me this Rodigio.”

“Dude, I’ll pay it back with interest! I know you have the money!”

“Dege, it’s not like all my money is just sitting in a wallet somewhere. I do things with it. It’s invested all over, diversified. To give you that money would be an opportunity cost.”

“What?”

“If I give you that money, it means I can’t do something else with it.”

“So you care more about making more money than you do about your friend?”

“You know where the last $35 grand I threw down went? To a start-up bringing rule of law to the parts of the world that still have oppressive governments.”

“That’s just the last 35. I know you put at least that much in the virtual reality porn company!”

“I remember you being pretty excited about CyberNut at the time. But it still doesn’t matter Dege, because even CyberNut deserves the money more than you do. And I deserve to put my money in the places that I want, and make money back for my risk. What do I get risking that on you? Because please don’t try to tell me it’s not a risk…”

“I just thought maybe you wouldn’t want to see your friend in prison for two years. But I guess you think that’s what I deserve.”

He sighs. “Dege, I love you like a brother. But yes, you deserve to be held accountable for your actions. Me bailing you out wouldn’t help you in the long run.”

“Now you sound like my dad.”

“Well your dad is a smart guy Dege. Maybe it’s time you start listening to his advice. I mean you keep saying, two years, two years. Have you even considered the fact that you can make that much money in two months if you really wanted to?”

“Maybe you could…”

“I’m glad this conversation went this way. I’m now convinced that this will be good for you.”

We hang up. I am alone in my room.

I walk out on the balcony, overlooking the pool and tiers of grass that lead down to the white sandy beach, gently sloping into the ocean between large stone jetties.

It’s dark, but most of the palm trees and tropical ground cover are illuminated from hidden lights in the lava-rock-mulch.

I’ve lived here all my life. So accessible, always available just outside my back door. And suddenly I’m a visitor, just here for the night. So I might as well take advantage of it. I walk down to stroll through the pristine grounds.

I want to see Majorie but am not sure what to say. That’s what has kept me from messaging her. That and the stomach churning reality that I am going to prison.

A message comes in. Its from Majorie.

“Can I come over?”

Her drone lands about five minutes later. She walks down into the backyard garden and sits down next to me without saying a word. We look at each other and force a smile. And for a few minutes we just sit listening to the waves roll off the platform.

I sigh, “well apparently this place doesn’t have any alcohol. So… want a beer?”

“God yes.”

We grab a couple from the outdoor kitchen and sit at the tiki bar.

“I have to say… Your platform is way nicer than mine,” Majorie says.

“Well you’re closer to the center. And… you get to stay.”

“What are you going to do?” she asks.

“What can I do?”

“I mean to earn the money.”

“I guess I’ll keep working my bug catching job. Maybe if I put in enough hours I can cut it down to a year and a half.”

She looks down, “That’s a long time.”

Silence. Faint lapping of the ocean. Distant windchimes?

“I understand if you want to just forget about me and move on,” I blurt out. “I mean we just met anyway, I don’t expect you to…” I trail off.

Majorie takes a long swig of her beer. “We did just meet. Which is why this is so weird. Because I’m not just going to ditch you.”

“Look, it’s not your fault that I broke the statue. I don’t want you to feel attached to me out of guilt.”

“It’s not guilt. Definitely not guilt. It’s… well I don’t know what it is. It’s you, you’re different. I don’t know how yet, but I know a good thing when I see it.”

Now we’re staring into each other’s eyes. And it’s probably the only thing at this moment that can make me feel better. She’s right, there is something else going on here. I just hope the separation won’t ruin it.

We kiss across the bar. It feels so good to just enjoy each other’s company for a minute or two, sipping our beers.

Then I remember the burning question on my mind (when I’m not distracted by my impending incarceration).

“So what’s the deal with your job? You worked for Elijah Braze?” I ask.

“Well yeah sort of, but I barely knew him. Ben Rupert, his head of staff is–well was–my boss.” Majorie sighs, “But they already revoked all my permissions and sent an official severance notice so… looks like I’m a free agent.”

“What did you do for him?”

“Mostly data gathering.”

“You mean like marketing data for one of his businesses?”

“More like,” Majorie says slowly, formulating the right way to explain it, “Data gathering of a more personal nature.”

She only goes on after laughing at my blank expression.

“Sometimes it is digging into personal character, other times it’s confirming where someone lives or sniffing out conflicts of interest.”

“You’re a spy!?” I exclaim, only half joking.

“Well, I guess you could say that. Intelligence gathering.” She winks.

Suddenly an image of Majorie seducing a business contact to get some confidential pillow talk pops into my head. She seems to see the gears turning.

“It’s really not as exciting as it sounds,” she assures me. “Usually it’s pretty boring grunt work. The paid travel is nice… well at least it was.” Swig.

“Do you have other clients?”

“Yeah, but that was by far my largest chunk of income. I’m going to need to find something to replace it. All my other stuff is more routine digging. I can do most of it online.”

Another silence. It’s a wave of reality that keeps washing over me, anxiety about my fate tomorrow. I know Majorie can feel it too every time it hits.

“So when do you have to go?” Majorie asks.

“They pick me up at 9 tomorrow morning.”

She gives a sympathetic smile. “Any plans until then?”

I manage a laugh. “If you want to keep me up all night, I don’t mind arriving to prison a little groggy. Who do I have to impress there anyway?”

We spend the night laying in the grass, looking up at the stars, midnight skinny-dipping, and pre-dawn moonbathing. Majorie and I fall asleep in each other’s arms curled up on a large plush piece of patio furniture as the sun breaks over the horizon.

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giantsfootball0 · 7 years ago

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Questions about Takk, Lions predictions, Sanu formation names, new stadium, more

Good morning and welcome to Straight from the ’Beek! It’s Friday and that means we’re another day closer to the Falcons-Lions showdown in Detroit – and you’ve got questions. Just remember that all opinions you see in this space are mine, unless otherwise noted.

And we’re off.

David from Brooklyn, NY

Hi Beek. Do you think fans are putting too much pressure on Takk? Sacks are not easy to come by.

Matt: No, I don’t think so at all, David. Yes, you’re right, sacks are not easy to get in the NFL, but guys like Takkarist McKinley are highly motivated, regardless of what the fans say. They’re professional athletes and relish the opportunity to go out and compete. And he’s a first-round draft pick for a reason – because the Falcons believe he has what it takes to be a force at defensive end. He’s got a big opportunity in front of him this weekend in Detroit. Thanks for your question.

Oran from Marietta, GA

Trade Coleman?!! Are you crazy? All we need is for Devonta Freeman to go down for weeks or the season and then what? I see Tevin Coleman still improving with experience and coaching. Depth is critical for a contender and RBs are prone to leg injuries.

Matt: You’re obviously referring to Kit from Canton’s suggestion, and I couldn’t agree with you more, Oran. Coleman is an integral part of this offense when he’s on the field and depth is crucial at that position. Those guys take a lot of hits throughout the season. Thanks for your comment and, no, I’m not crazy.

Jack from Chattanooga, TN

Hello, Matt. I’m from 100 miles up I-75 from the great Falcons city of Chattanooga and I have loved this team since Tommy Nobis earned his way to becoming one of the premier linebackers of all time. I wanted to comment on a previous question about Falcons fans leaving early. This has been a ‘quality’ of our teams’ fans for 50 years and I had hoped the new stadium that Mr. Blank has given us would change that. I’ve been to many games over the years with my best old Falcon buddy and we never once considered leaving a game early for any reason. It’s becoming increasingly difficult for us blue-collar types to even afford to come so, once again, I’m begging all the corporate season ticket holders … either support the team or give your tickets to someone who will. The best thing that ever happened to this team, aside from William Andrews and many other players, was Rankin Smith selling to Arthur Blank. So get on his bandwagon and us working faithfuls will stay glued to our tubes till the final gun every week. Thanks for your column and Go Falcons!!

Matt: Even though you didn’t really have a question, I think it’s important for loyal and longtime fans like you have a voice and share your perspectives – so I ran it. Thanks for your comments, Jack. And thanks for reading.

Zamir from West Milton, PA

Hi Matt! Your prediction for the last game was 27-24. Mine was 34-24, so I think I got that one, but most importantly the Falcons won! What is your prediction for this game? Mine is 31-17.

Matt: Hi, Zamir. Wow, you weren’t too far off. I didn’t think we were competing, either. As fas as the Lions game goes, I think the Falcons offense is starting to get back on track – and we saw that against the Packers last Sunday night. I think it continues in Detroit, too. So if I had to make a prediction, I’d say Atlanta by two scores — Falcons 28, Lions 14.

Ricky from Atlanta, GA

Just wanted to say I love the column. The question I have is why is it that when the Falcons get somewhat of a lead, they go into that prevent defense? It’s killing us because it takes the momentum out the game and fans get frustrated. It’s making them want to leave the game early because now we look like the Falcons of old. Can you please talk to the defensive coordinator and the coach and let them know? Let’s keep the gas on these guys throughout the whole game and you’ll have a bigger fan base. Thanks.

Matt: Ricky, you Falcons fans should know by now that a player as good as Aaron Rodgers is never going down quietly without a fight, right? Even when the Packers were down a few touchdowns (24 points, in this one), did you really think that would be the final margin? So they ended up scoring twice, but that shouldn’t make Falcons leave early or get frustrated or quit following the team, in my opinion. You’ve got a great team that’s built to win now. Enjoy it. I could back and explain (again) why the Falcons were not taking their feet off the gas pedal, but I won’t. Thanks for reading and glad you love the column.

Ayush from West Windsor, NJ

Hi, Straight from the Beek. This is my first time asking a question, also I’m a newer fan of the Falcons and my question is, what will happen to the old stadium?

Matt: Hello, Ayush from West Windsor. Welcome to Straight from the ’Beek and the Falcons are lucky to have you rooting for them, Ayush! The old Georgia Dome is scheduled for implosion on Nov. 20, 2017.

Devonte from Portsmouth, VA

What’s up, Matt. I was wondering what you think about us making history this year? I feel like we have something to prove to the whole league and that last year was just bad play calling, and this year will be the beginning of a dynasty.

Matt: Hi. I’ve been asked this a lot and I’ll you this much, Devonte. The Falcons have the core of their offense back, including players at key positions. They’ve also improved the defense, in my opinion, by going out and signing some key free agents in Dontari Poe and Jack Crawford. They also drafted Takkarist McKinley. I think the Falcons are built to win now and can make a deep postseason push. Now they still have to go out and execute and win. They’ll also need to stay healthy – and a little luck along the way always helps, too. Last year is last year. So forget it. As far as any dynasty talk goes, look, you have to win the big one more than once to warrant consideration for that label, at least in my book. I’d say it’s a bit premature. Hope that helps and thanks for reading.

Isaac from Athens, GA

Tell DQ that they should call the Sanu formation the Rise Mo!

Matt: Will do. We’ve gotten a ton of great suggestions so far. And thanks, Isaac.

Jose from Mesa, AZ

Hey Beek. This is not a question. Rather it is a suggestion for the name of the Sanu/wildcat formation: Call it the “Dirty Bird” formation. Thanks.

Matt: Noted, and thanks Jose.

Josh from Soperton, GA

Hi Matt. How long do you think the Super Bowl loss is going to be brought back up every time there is a momentum shift in regular-season games? Also, I consider you part of the team, being that you are able to answer almost anything about the team. So, do you make the sixth or seventh Matt? RISE UP!!!! LET’S GO DIRTY BIRDS!

Matt: Hey, Josh. I think just about everyone is tired of hearing about last year’s Super Bowl. It’s a different year and this is a different Falcons team – with some different players and coaches, too. That said, I think the topic is going to be brought up throughout the season, regardless if the Falcons win or lose. And if the Falcons make a deep postseason push, I’m sure someone will bring it up then, too. You have to give this team credit, though, because they’ve answered every question with class and never dodge the topic. To your other point, yes, there are a lot of Matts on the roster and there are more walking this building. Of course I’m biased but … it’s a great name and all the credit goes to my late mother, who insisted on Matthew. Thanks for reading.

Lakeem from Atlanta, GA

Hi. My question is, do you ever think Julio Jones will have competition against any cornerbacks in the NFL?

Matt: Well, let’s put it this way … Julio certainly faces competition week in and week out, Lakeem. And sometimes it comes in the form of double- and triple-coverage. It might not seem like it to the casual fan at times because he’s just that dominant. The Falcons and their fans are lucky to have him – he’s one of the best of his generation.

Daniel from Woodstock, GA

Hey Beek, thanks for the write-ups, I really enjoy them. I’m curious from a player’s perspective if the game on Sunday felt like playing inside or outside? Have any of the players been asked this? I know the roof was open, but watching on TV it still felt very much like an indoor game.

Matt: Hey, Daniel. That’s an interesting take – and part of me agrees with you. With the way some of these new stadiums are constructed, it does feel like it’s still an indoor stadium sometimes – and I totally get what you’re saying with how it looks the same on TV. And if it does rain or snow, they’ll keep the the roof closed. I remember going to games in the old Texas Stadium, which was covered but featured a large hole in the roof over the field – I saw some games there in November and December and it definitely felt like an outdoor stadium when the temperatures dipped or when it snowed. We’ll try to get a player’s response to that and share it. Thanks for reading.

Joel from Boston, MA

Hey Beek. Good stuff, as always. As a Falcons fan right in the middle of New England’s rowdiest crowd, it’s been a tough offseason. Your condolences would be appreciated. Anyways, my question is in regards to our current CB situation. Tru showed a lot of life last week, but his two big plays were more the ball coming to him rather than him making a play on the ball (albeit a pretty catch on the INT). That in conjunction with Alford’s incessant holding/PI flags — do you think we have what it takes to contain Stafford and the Lions’ WRs while matching up in man coverage? I think we win, but I see it being a shootout coming down to the final drive or two.

Matt: Hey, Joel. The good news this year is that the Falcons will be heading your way on Oct. 22 – hopefully you score some tickets to the game. To your question, I think between Golden Tate, Ameer Abdullah and Theo Riddick, the Lions have three running backs/receivers who are tough to tackle in the open field and Matthew Stafford does an excellent job extending plays – and dispersing the ball. I grouped Tate in there because he runs like a running back. They have a decent tight end and, yes, their receivers can make plays downfield, too. The Falcons and guys like Desmond Trufant will have to do a good job wrapping up and tackling on Sunday, but I do like how they match up.

Steve from Buffalo, NY

Hey Beek. Today was my first read of the column (newb), but I plan to continue. As a die-hard fan, I travel to ATL at least once a year for a game. I will be at the Buffalo game next week and was shocked how much tickets in decent seats were going for. Do you think this is because of the nostalgia of a new stadium? Offsetting the concession prices? Or just the new “normal” based on recent success?

Matt: Hey, Steve. First, thanks for reading and welcome to Straight from the ’Beek. I’ve been in a lot of stadiums and this really is a one-of-a-kind experience. I’m also from Upstate New York (know where you’re coming from) and I think you’re going to be pleasantly surprised. I’m not sure where you’re sitting and I’m not involved with ticket pricing, but there really aren’t any bad seats at Mercedes-Benz Stadium. Please write back and let me know how the trip went. Safe travels.

C. O’Neal from Varnville, SC

Hey Beek, enjoy the Q&A. My question is, why doesn’t Matt try more corner end zone over-the-shoulder throws to Julio, Sanu or the big tight ends? Is he uncomfortable making that throw?

Matt: Hi, and glad you enjoy it. I don’t think Matt Ryan is really uncomfortable throwing any sort of pass to Julio Jones, Mohamed Sanu or Austin Hooper. I think the Falcons have designed plays and routes for short-yardage and end-zone situations – and they work on those a lot during minicamps, training camp, preseason and throughout the year. Hope that helps.

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ds4design · 8 years ago

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The Total Idiot's Guide To The 2017 24 Hours Of Daytona

One of the dumbest yet most brilliant ideas humanit has ever had is the day-long motor race. Cars have to run almost flawlessly all day to even sniff the podium. The teams are all ragged and delirious at the end, but they made it, man. Is there any prouder feat? Of course we’re going to watch that, and you should too.

This weekend is one of the crown jewels of American motorsport: the 24 Hours of Daytona, which is interchangeably referred to as the Rolex 24 because the fancy watch people paid so much money to get their #brand out there. (Also, it’s a lot shorter to say.)

The Rolex 24's early spot on the calendar always means there’s something new on hand. This year, there’s a whole class of entirely new race cars, not to mention a bizarro mid-engine Porsche 911 RSR making its international racing debut.

Porsche’s flagship sports car, the 911, has always been a rear-engined car, at least in roadgoing… Read more Read more

With 55 cars running this year, there’s truly something for everyone out on track. The fact that some cars look like normal cars, and some look sort of like that vaporware Faraday Future concept thing with the back-fin can be confusing, though, if this is your first time paying attention to this race.

Here’s our guide on the who, what, where, how and why of the great debut of endurance racing in America: the Rolex 24.

Photo credit: LAT Photo USA for IMSA

What’s with all the different cars on track all at once?

One of the key parts of the Rolex 24, as with most major endurance races, is that it’s multi-class racing. Here, you have big-budget, purpose-built racing prototypes driven exclusively by professionals sharing track space with moneyed amateurs in relatively normal-looking cars.

The IMSA WeatherTech Sportscar Championship, of which the Rolex 24 is a part, is a whole series of longer endurance races. Daytona is its longest, and thus, makes up one fourth of the North American Endurance Championship—basically, a championship within the championship that consists of IMSA’s longest, most prestigious races. Both the main championship and the NAEC run four classes this year, which are as follows:

Prototype (P): The top, fastest class of endurance racing prototypes in North America, geared primarily towards teams of professionals. This class is somewhat based upon the international LMP2 spec, for those of you familiar with the cars that run at Le Mans. However, IMSA and the manufacturers who back its series wanted to allow marques to customize cars more so they wouldn’t be giving mere lip service to branding a car a “Mazda” or a “Nissan.” This birthed the Daytona Prototype International (or DPi for short) spec of cars that runs here, although the regular LMP2s that are eligible to run at Le Mans can also run in IMSA’s P-class. It’s a little complicated, but tl;dr—these are the fastest things you’ll see on track, and they’re incredible both up-close and at speed.

Prototype Challenge (PC): Like the P class, PC is all purpose-built race cars that were designed from start to finish for track use—and track use only. These identical open-top cars are run by pro-am teams—in other words, with a mix of professionals and amateurs. This is the last year they’ll be running as a class, thought. These cars have been around for a while, and with more racers preferring a closed cabin for safety reasons, IMSA opted to scrap this class for 2018. Enjoy them while you can!

GT Le Mans (GTLM): The GT classes are the ones based on everyday road cars. GTLM cars are based on Le Mans’ GTE spec, and are driven by professionals. If you’ve ever wondered what’s possible with a modern-day roadgoing chassis, consider GTLM your weekend dose of inspiration. With cars like the BMW M6, the Porsche 911 and the Ford GT in the mix, this is where the next generation of mid-life-crisis-mobile tech is born.

GT Daytona (GTD): Not every amateur wants to race a PC car, and thus, GTD is here to save the day with a collection of everything from Lamborghini Huracán GT3s to the brand-new for 2017 Acura NSX GT3. Like PC, GTD cars are driven by a tightly controlled mix of professionals and amateurs. These cars all adhere to the global FIA GT3 specification, making it relatively easy to buy one from a manufacturer, already race-prepped and ready to go. GTD cars are a little slower than GTLM, but they’re also meant to be less expensive than the spec used by the pros.

Of course, who constitutes a “pro” versus an “am” is a hot mess of a debate in its own right, and there’s a lot of incentive to ask for a lower status than you actually deserve for bizarre political reasons you can read all about here. Many of the so-called “amateurs” (which include a five-time winner of this race!) are actually pretty good! Part of the reason for so many classes comes down to sources of funding—as in, it’s often an amateur with cash that keeps a team afloat, and those amateur drivers need a place to play with cars more suited to their non-pro status.

What are driver rankings, and why have they become such a controversial subject? In order to keep… Read more Read more

The bigger picture, regardless of how team personnel shakes out, is that you’ve got a ton of different cars all competing on the same track at once. You may wonder how anyone can sit down and watch hours of racing, but to me, it’s the ultimate treat for someone with the attention span of a gnat. There’s always something going on, and barely time to take a breather before there’s another rad pass/close call/insane flyby/etc. to marvel at.

It’s like having four races within a race, with the winners of each class getting one of those coveted Rolex watches. The overall win is a special feat, however, with many favorite poster cars in race trim running around GTD, it’s a really special thing to see your favorite dream car win its class.

What’s so special about the Rolex 24?

Endurance races have happened in some form at Daytona International Speedway for nearly its entire history, since 1962. It’s held on Daytona’s 3.56-mile road course, and there are no breaks to give anyone a chance to catch up, or fix their cars. Many consider it to be one leg of the Triple Crown of Endurance Racing—the three most grueling endurance races in the world—alongside the 12 Hours of Sebring and the 24 Hours of Le Mans. It’s also North America’s only full-24-hour-race.

What sets Daytona apart from every other major endurance race on the planet is that most of its road course makes use of the big superspeedway banking, which enables these cars to go to plaid around the big oval.

Because it’s so early on the schedule, this is where many new race cars make their debut. This year, in addition to all of the new prototypes for IMSA’s own Prototype class, we’ve got the competition debuts of the new Porsche 911 RSR—yes, the freaky mid-engine one—and the Acura NSX GT3. These are the cars that will race all over the world, and we’re seeing them here—in Florida of all places—first!

Fans camping out in the infield and around the track turn it into a weekend-long party, and you’ll see everything from incredible rare cars to traditional Floridian debauchery.

What should I pay attention to?

With NASCAR legend Jeff Gordon coming out of retirement to drive a Cadillac protoype, there’s no shortage of eyes on this year’s race. With so many new cars, we’re all wondering not only which one is the fastest, but which one is built well enough to handle a full day of continuous racing. Will the new 911 RSRs work, or was it just never meant to be a mid-engine car? And is that new Acura NSX GT3 as fast as it looks? Here’s where we find out.

Everyone’s eyes are on Gordon’s team, the No. 10 Wayne Taylor Racing squad, for reasons that go beyond the sweet new ride. Not only are we glad to see Gordon still enjoying his so-called “retirement” by still racing awesome cars, but he’s on a fan-favorite team filled with lovable goofballs. Brothers Jordan and Ricky Taylor are two of the funniest drivers on the grid.

Jordan has spent much of the offseason trying to fool people as superfan alter-ego “Rodney Sandstorm,” which didn’t fool his Daytona teammate Gordon in the slightest, but was hilarious anyway.

Gordon isn’t the only person who’d be recognizable to fans of other series. Porsche 919 driver Brendon Hartley is driving for the Tequila Patrón ESM Nissan prototype squad, and his Porsche teammate Neel Jani is here in the Rebellion Racing Oreca. Former Audi R18 driver Marcel Fässler is back with the IndyCar driver James Hinchcliffe just came off feeding bumbling doofus Rick Perry sashays of shame on Dancing With The Stars to drive Mazda’s new prototype. Fellow IndyCar drivers Graham Rahal and Ryan Hunter-Reay are helping drive the two Michael Shank Racing Acura NSX GT3s. V8 Supercars phenomenon and thoroughly insane man Shane Van Gisbergen is racing the No. 50 Mercedes-AMG GT3. There’s also a number of ex-Formula One drivers on the entry list, including Sebastien Buemi, Bruno Senna and Nick Heidfeld.

And of course, there’s a slew of old favorites and cool cars, such as Corvette Racing, who took the most entertaining 1-2 finish I’ve ever seen here last year. They had to switch to a spare car for this race after a preseason testing fire charred the No. 4 Corvette C7.R, but their No. 4 suffered a similar fiery mishap in testing last year and it worked out more than okay at the race itself.

Scott Pruett, who is currently tied with racing legend Hurley Haywood for the most number of Rolex 24 wins, is here chasing a sixth win in the GTD-class Lexus RCF GT3 that would make that record all his own. This is also the first time the Lexus will race in North America.

Dig through the entry list in more detail here, if you’re curious.

When does the race start?

Whether you’re here at the track or at home in front of a TV, you’ll want to drop everything for an entire 24 hours starting at 2:30 p.m. ET on Saturday.

How do I watch?

For better or for worse, Fox Sports is in charge of broadcasting the Rolex 24, and they’ve split it up among multiple channels as follows (all times Eastern):

Saturday, Jan. 28, 2:00 - 5:00 p.m.: Fox

Saturday, Jan. 28, 5:00 - 10:00 p.m.: FS2

Saturday, Jan. 28, 10:00 - 11:00 p.m.: Fox Sports Go app only

Saturday, Jan. 28, 11:00 p.m. - Sunday, Jan. 29 1:00 a.m.: FS2

Sunday, Jan. 29, 1:00 p.m. - 3:00 p.m.: FS1

Do note: the checkered flag drops at 2:30 p.m. on Sunday, so don’t overshoot the ending with a bathroom break thinking they end the whole day at 3. Times were close in qualifying, so this should be a brutal fight to the very end in all four classes. In other words, you’ll probably want to park yourself in front of the TV for the last thirty minutes or so.

As in previous years, Fox is pretty serious when they write “All times ET and subject to change” on their broadcast announcement. This is, of course, the network that infuriatingly swapped Le Mans’ broadcast schedule around mid-race to accommodate golf tournament over-runs on one of their other channel.

Man, that’s a lot. Is there anything else?

Believe it or not, they managed to work in a support race in addition to the Rolex 24: a “short” four-hour Continental Tire Sports Car Challenge race.

Out of all the series that ran last year, the CTSCC is the one I had the most fun watching. The cars are a little more down to earth—instead of Porsche 911s, Lamborghini Huracáns and Ford GTs, they race cars like the Mini JCW, Porsche Cayman and Ford Mustang. A McLaren is crashing the party this year, but even that one is the entry-level 570S. Everything is based on a road car, though, foregoing space-age prototypes for the ability to scream WOO PORSCHE because you, too, own that car at the TV.

All the cars are kept fairly competitive with each other despite being a collection of different models from different marques, which has led to some hilariously ruthless on-track battles in previous seasons. This year should be more of the same.

The CTSCC race starts today at 12:05 p.m. ET, and is streamed in its entirety at imsa.tv.

We’re also here this weekend, so at least we can fill in the gaps if something was missed on television, or desperately needs to be seen up-close. Have anything in particular you’d like us to get an up-close look at this weekend? Let us know.

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