#i saw someone say that someone else was “projecting” when they corrected that andrew was the one attracted to his sibling like HELLO

[momentomori24]

Reading the comments on Manly's TCOAAL playthrough made me remember how much I hate the fandom sometimes when it comes to Andrew and Ashley's characters. I side eye people who write off Andrew as purely a victim and completely excusing his own abuse and manipulation of both his sister and Julia while downplaying the abuse and neglect Ashley experienced her whole life and acting like she's purely evil soooooo hard 😒

[to23623ken]

I'm genuinely fascinated by the existence of "Javert, t'es amoureux", because its creator—Jean Vallée—wasn’t just any singer or actor; he was the very first Javert in the musical adaptation of Les Misérables. And out of everything he could have taken from playing the role, what stuck with him enough to turn into a song? The idea that Javert was in love. That’s incredible.

It completely shatters the notion that Valvert is just a modern, fandom-driven interpretation cooked up by chronically online shippers or queer theatre kids projecting onto the material. No—this reading of Javert, this underlying tension, has existed since the beginning. Before Tumblr, before AO3, before any of that discourse, the original musical Javert himself saw something there. And not just saw it—he felt it so deeply that he wrote and recorded a song about it.

"Valvert" isn’t just a modern fandom invention. The very people who have embodied these characters—actors, writers, and directors—have seen and acknowledged these dynamics. Whether it’s Jean Vallée writing "Javert, t’es amoureux", Andrew Davies (screenwriter of the BBC adaptation) stating that "One can even see a twisted kind of love in Javert’s obsession with Valjean," or countless performers playing these characters with that subtext in mind, the interpretation holds weight.

Never let anyone tell you that your queer reading isn’t valid. The idea that there’s only one “correct” way to read a story is a lie—a lie that has been used for centuries to erase, silence, and delegitimize voices like ours.

Queer readings don’t need to be “proven” to be valid. They don’t require a writer’s approval or an actor’s acknowledgment. They are valid because queer people exist, and when we see ourselves in a story, that means something. That matters. And no one can take that away.

And this isn’t just about Les Mis. It’s about the truth that queer readings of stories are valid, full stop. Literature and theatre have always contained queerness, whether hidden in subtext or woven directly into the narrative. And when actors, directors, and audiences pick up on those themes—when they lean into them, embrace them, and bring them to life—it’s because those layers were always there to be discovered.

So if someone tells you that your interpretation is "just a ship" or "not what the author intended," remind them that stories do not belong solely to their creators. They belong to the people who experience them, who see themselves in them, who bring new life to them. And if queer people have seen themselves in Les Misérables—and we have, over and over again—then that queerness is real, it is valid, and it is part of the story, no matter what anyone else says.

Yes, I want everything to be queer, because I am queer, and I love me.

[confused-android]

Day 15 - Dirk Youth

--------------------------

The first time Svlad gets two activities right in a row, Colonel Riggins gives him a square of chocolate. He knows what chocolate is – his mother had brought it home sometimes, when he still lived with her – and he feels so excited to have earned it that he thanks the colonel repeatedly. It's already softening in his fingers, the edges smudging against his skin, but he waits to be told that he can eat before raising it to his lips. It's so sweet and startling that his eyes tear up, even though he is nine years old and doesn't cry.

That last part is a lie. Svlad cries at night, most nights. But it's under his blanket, so the cameras and guards can't see, and he tells himself that means it doesn't count.

He doesn't have a calendar ("we don't want to impede your progress with worrying about anything else, Svlad"), but he thinks it's been almost a year since Colonel Riggins brought him to Blackwing, to learn how to fix all of the things that are wrong with him. He bid his mother goodbye, endured her fixing his hair one last time, when it was spring; from the narrow windows above the recreation area, Svlad's watched it turn to summer and fall and winter, and now it's been several weeks since the snow melted.

He knows he's doing really well. Colonel Riggins tells him so, sometimes, and so do his teachers.

His teachers are… strange. Or maybe it's his classes that are strange. He's the only one in most of his classes, and he's not learning facts about history or English or maths. It seem more like they're experimenting on him than teaching him, but Colonel Riggins says that isn't true, that's silly, and that he has to respect his teachers, so Svlad does. Svlad will do anything Colonel Riggins says, if it means that he'll learn how to fix all of the things that are wrong with him and that he can go back to his mother and they won't get kicked out any council housing for stealing cats he didn't steal, or kicked out of school for cheating on tests he didn't cheat on.

Svlad is really hopeful that it will work. Colonel Riggins promised him that it will, though, so he sits through his strange classes and learns all of the weird ways to think and behave that his teachers tell him to.

For the last few weeks, he's been trying extra hard in the activity where he's supposed to sort cards into the right order without looking at their faces. Not that he wasn't trying extra hard before that! He was, he really was. He'd closed his eyes and scrunched up his forehead and thought really hard about them ending up in the right order, just like the teacher told him to. But now he's trying differently hard. Scrunching up his face and thinking about the cards in the right order hasn't been working, so now he's trying it his way.

He's not supposed to do anything his way, Colonel Riggins says. His way got him lost cats and answer cards he shouldn't have and jewelry that his mother says she didn't know she's lost. His way is trouble. But what if his way also means he does the classroom activity successful? Does that mean it's bad?

So he scrunches up his forehead and pretends to be thinking really hard about the correct order of a deck of cards while he's shuffling them. But instead, he thinks about the cat that he saw sitting on the narrow windowsill, high above the recreation room. He thinks about its dirty paws, and how it had closed its eyes in the sun and licked one paw for a very, very long time, until it was clean. Then the cat had taken that clean paw and cleaned one of its ears for a long time. By the time Svlad was finished with his thirty minutes on the stationary bike, the cat had one clean paw and one clean ear, and was beginning to work on the other ear. Svlad thinks about that cat, and how the soft grey color had emerged from beneath the dingy grey color, and lets his hands do whatever they want to do with the cards. He's so focused on thinking about the cat that when the buzzer goes off, marking the end of his five minutes, it's startling, and he jumps.

"Deck," says Lt. Andrews, sounding as bored as ever, and Svlad hands it over, blinking his way back into awareness, the cat already fading from his memory. Lt. Andrews turns the deck over, pen in his other hand, ready to mark it down as another failed test, but then he freezes. His eyes widen and he puts the pen down and spreads the deck out on the table, and Svlad is as astonished as Lt. Andrews is.

The deck isn't in order-order, but all of the aces are together, and then all of the twos and the threes and so on, all the way up to the kings. The jokers book end the deck, laughing at the fifty-two cards in between. Svlad says "oh."

Lt. Andrews gathers up the deck and spreads it out a second time, as if the order of the cards will change if he looks again, but they're still in the same places when he fans them out. "Stay there, Project Icarus," Lt. Andrews says, and Svlad does, lacing his fingers together and swinging his feet as patiently as he can. He can't wait until his feet touch the floor in the classroom chairs. Lt. Andrews walks to the door and hits the intercom button and says, "Gupta."

The intercom crackles for a moment, and then Lt. Gupta (who walks Svlad to and from classes and meals and recreation) says, "issue, Andrews?"

"Radio for the Colonel. Tell him we've got a successful trial, room A12."

"I know what room you're in," Lt. Gupta says, annoyed, but Svlad can hear the shriek of the radio before he takes his finger off the intercom.

Lt. Andrews comes back to the table, gathers up the cards one more time, and sets the deck carefully to one side. To show Colonel Riggins, Svlad supposes. He pulls out a second deck, shuffles it quickly (his hands are shaking. Svlad wonders why), and hands it to Svlad. "Again," he says, more brusque than usual. "Exactly the same as you just did. Concentrate."

Svlad knows that Lt. Andrews thinks he did it like he was told. To visualize each card in the order it belongs, and to will the cards to match his perception of reality. But he doesn't do that this time either. Instead, he thinks about the groove under his bed, the one that he's carved slowly over the last many months with his dinner fork each night. It's long and straight-ish, and doesn't actually mean anything, but it's a small change that Svlad can make in his room, all by himself. It's something he's chosen to do, that no one else told him to do. It dulls the edges of the forks a bit, but not enough that anyone has ever said anything to him. Sometimes, he gets one of the forks he's already used once, and he can't carve into the groove that night, worried that two uses will ruin the fork enough that someone will say something, and he won't be allowed to do it anymore. But it's his mark, his groove, and he likes working on it. He thinks about the sensation of dragging the fork further and further each night, extending the mark by millimeters at a time.

While he's shuffling, moving the cards around randomly, he hears the door click softly open and then closed, and he knows that Colonel Riggins is in the room. But he doesn't say anything, so Svlad keeps shuffling and thinking about the feeling of a fork in his hands, and the groove in his bed, until the buzzer goes.

Svlad opens his eyes. "Deck," says Lt. Andrews, and he doesn't sound bored at all. Svlad hands over the deck and rubs his thumbs against his index fingers. He hopes that it worked this time, too.

It did. Lt. Andrews spreads the deck out on the table. This time, the cards are organized by suite, and from kings down to aces. The jokers are right in the middle of the deck, between the spades and the diamonds.

Colonel Riggins whistles, and Lt. Andrews shows him the first deck. He whistles again, and then looks at Svlad. "Well," he says, after a long moment of contemplation. "I see someone's finally started to try."

"I was trying before," Svlad protests, and Colonel Riggins' hand lands on his shoulder, heavy and too-warm.

"And now you're doing it the right way. See, Svlad? I told you that you just need to listen to your teachers." Svlad opens his mouth to protest again, but the colonel's fingers squeeze his shoulder, and it's just a bit too tight. Svlad closes his mouth.

"Come with me," Colonel Riggins says to Svlad, and then he looks at Lt. Andrews. "I'll be taking Icarus now. Mark him off as handed into my care." He carelessly scrawls his initials onto the log-book that Lt. Andrews holds out to him, and pulls Svlad out of the chair and out the door.

Lt. Gupta is slouching against the wall, and snaps to attention when Svlad and Colonel Riggins step into the hall. "Sir," he says.

"Come fetch Icarus from my office at fourteen hundred hours," Colonel Riggins says. "I'll handle transport from here. He'll be back on schedule when you get him."

"Yes, sir." Now Lt. Gupta will have half an hour free. Svlad is a little bit jealous. He only has free time for one hour after lunch, and then after dinner in his room.

Colonel Riggins doesn't take his hand off Svlad's shoulder, and he has to trot to keep up with his strides. It's not that the colonel is a very tall man, but Svlad is a very short boy. His mother told him that he'd grow eventually, that he'd be as tall as she is, or maybe even as tall as his father was, but he's still quite small. By the time they make it to Colonel Riggins' office, Svlad is a bit out of breath, and his armpits are kind of sweaty. He sinks into the chair in front of the desk in relief.

Colonel Riggins sits in his big chair and he looks at Svlad. He looks at him for a while, and it's long enough that Svlad starts to squirm, but he tries his very best to stay still, because Colonel Riggins doesn't like it when he squirms. Finally, though, he stops staring at Svlad, and opens one of the drawers in his desk. He pulls out an opened bar of Hershey's chocolate and breaks off two squares, then hands them to Svlad.

"That was very well done of you, Svlad," he says. His voice is deep and he isn't smiling, but he sounds very happy. Svlad is happy that Colonel Riggins is happy, and he's happy with the small pieces of chocolate that he's holding in his fingers. "I hope you enjoy these, because I want you to know that you've done very well today." Svlad glows, and tries not to squish the chocolate between his fingers, and the colonel says "eat up, m'boy, and so Svlad does. He eats the first one very quickly, and savors the second one, and Colonel Riggins watches him. He looks satisfied, and Svlad is really glad that he did a good job. He hopes he can keep doing a good job, and learn how to fix everything that's wrong with him, and to go home.

--------------------

Link to: day one, Farah - Youth day two, Farah - Dance day three, Farah - Gore day four, Farah - GNC fashion day five, Farah - AU day six, Farah - Family (to be written) day seven, Farah - Pride (to be written) day eight, Todd - Youth (to be written) day nine, Todd - Dance (to be written) day ten, Todd - Gore day eleven, Todd - GNC Fashion day twelve, Todd - AU day thirteen, Todd - Family day fourteen, Todd - Pride (to be written)

prompt list

[bumblesimagines]

Night Angel

Request: Yes or No

(F/N) stands for Fake Name. Based off Baby season 2 is out btw I forgot what grade the core four were in during the first season but I'm gonna say sophomore year. This takes place like a day after Veronica first comes in and then timeskips to some random time.

(Y/N) played with his chain as he sent his friend a text. He looked up at Veronica when she placed her tray down.

"I don't-"

"Veronica Lodge, everyone knows you." (Y/N) cut her off, leaning down and grabbing his backpack.

"Is that a Gucci chain?" Veronica questioned, furrowing her brows. (Y/N) stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder as Betty and Kevin sat down. He made no comment, grabbing his tray and walking away. He threw the food away, checking his phone.

"(F/N), when are you avillable?"

"I can't stop thinking about the other evening."

"Are you free tonight?"

"Hey, babe."

(Y/N) clicked on the last message, opening it. He opened the profile and hummed, scrolling through the pictures. The guy seemed rich. (Y/N) decided to respond.

"Hey handsome."

"How come he's always alone?" Veronica asked.

"(Y/N) is a loner. He came in the middle of freshmen year from Greendale and he's never spoken to anyone other than teachers and project partners." Betty explained.

"He's a great kisser too." Kevin said with a grin. Veronica pouted.

"The cute ones are always gay."

"He's actually bi." Kevin corrected. Veronica perked up, smiling widely.

"Guess I have to turn my charm on." She grinned.

(Y/N) smiled, dancing against the male. The guys hands gripped his hips as he pulled him close.

"I'll go get us a room real quick, wait here." The guy, Malachai if he remembered correctly, said. (Y/N) nodded, heading over to the bar. The club was owned by, for lack of better word, (Y/N)'s 'pimp'. He sipped on his bloody mary, glancing around the club. His eyes lamded on Veronica Lodge. She had already been staring at him with a concerned look. (Y/N) looked away, finishing his drink as Malachai came back. He took (Y/N)'s hand and led him away, heading upstairs. (Y/N) entered the room, watching him close and lock the door.

"How old are you?"

"What?"

"I saw that Lodge her watching you, how old are you?" Malachai crossed his arms.

"Why does it matter? You wanted my services." Malachai stuffed his hand into his pocket and tossed some rolled up money at him. (Y/N) caught it and sighed.

"Well, if you don't want me-" (Y/N) tried to get out but Malachai didn't let him.

"You're a child."

"I'm almost eighteen, I'm fine." (Y/N) huffed.

"Why are you doing this?" Malachai asked.

"Why do you care?!" (Y/N) shoved him out of the way and left the room, going down the stairs and heading towards the exit.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Veronica stopped him.

"Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

"Mind your own business, Veronca." (Y/N) snapped, leaving the club. He took out his phone, looking at his new message.

"You left in a hurry. Did you satisfy your customer? I don't want any complaints."

"He just wanted a handy, nothing else. I saw someone from school. That's why I left so quickly."

"Did he pay you?"

"Yes."

"Good, stop by tomorrow morning so we can deal with the money. Night."

(Y/N) sighed, putting his phone away.

"Need a ride?" He turned his head, looking at Archie's father, Fred. They had met briefly since (Y/N)'s mother had befriended him. (Y/N) got in the car.

"Never saw you as a party type of guy." Fred said. (Y/N) shrugged.

"My friend had a shitty breakup, she needed a night out." (Y/N) lied smoothly.

"And you left her there?"

"Veronica's with her." (Y/N) replied, glancing at him.

"Are you alright, (Y/N)?" Fred asked. (Y/N) nodded.

"Why wouldn't I be?" He asked.

"You seemed kind of down." (Y/N) shook his head.

"I'm just not feeling well and I had a test earlier today." (Y/N) said.

"I'm sure you did amazing." Fred smiled. (Y/N) returned. Archie was really lucky to have such a kind dad. (Y/N) had no clue where his was.

"Alright, well, tell your mother I said hi." Fred said as he stopped infront of his house. (Y/N) nodded.

"Of course." (Y/N) got out of the car.

"Oh, and (Y/N)?"

"Yes, Mr. Andrews?" (Y/N) looked at him.

"If you ever need any advice or need someone to talk to, just know that I'm here for you." Fred gave him a smile. (Y/N) nodded.

"Thank you. Have a good night, sir." (Y/N) closed the door, heading up the driveway. He took out his keys and unlocked the door, entering his house.

"Baby? Is that you?" His mother called from upstairs.

"Yeah!" (Y/N) called back, closing the door and locking it.

"I left some leftovers in the microwave if you're hungry!" She informed. (Y/N) draped his coat over a chair, heading over to the mircowave. He put in a minute and waited.

"How was work? I heard the club was full today... Being a bartender must be hard." His mother cooed, approaching him. She pecked his cheek.

"I'm gonna head to sleep, alright?" (Y/N) nodded. He sighed softly as he watched her go.

Being a 'Night Angel', as some of his customers called it, was hard.

[bughead-is-riverdale]

Mixed Messages (Jughead x Reader)

Anonymous asked: Heyyy, I saw that your requests are open and was wondering if you could do one with jughead and the reader when they date.where the reader and Betty get along and everything but the reader can't help but get jealous of what they had and how close they still are at times?

Summary: The reader spends a painful summer watching Jughead and Betty in a relationship. She has liked Jughead for years and can’t bear to be around the two of them. The reader arrives back to school in September, after spending a few weeks with her Dad in Toronto, to discover that Jughead broke it off with Betty. Although Jughead and the reader begin a relationship, Betty appears to find it hard to accept Jughead’s new feelings.

Approx. 2200 words

The friendship wasn’t the problem, that had always been there. Jughead and Betty had been best friends from the moment they had been born. They had had their first day at school together – I had seen the photograph of the two of them aged five, hand in hand as Betty confidently dragged a terrified Jughead through the school gates – partnered together in every class since that day, and even shared their first kiss in the third grade. Before I had even moved to Riverdale, Jughead and Betty were inseparable. I’d moved to Riverdale from Toronto when I was ten and from the moment I joined Riverdale Middle School, I was smitten with Jughead Jones. I was never very subtle – I remember leaving a ridiculously cheesy Valentine’s card in his locker one year, failing miserably to disguise my handwriting so within five minutes everyone had guessed it was me – but Jughead never made me feel embarrassed. I joined Betty and Jughead’s little group immediately, Jughead was fascinated by my stories of life in a big city and Betty was delighted to finally have a girl-friend as there was only so much boy-talk that Jughead would take willingly. By the eighth grade Archie Andrews and Kevin Keller had joined our little clique, and now that we were in the eleventh grade, Veronica Lodge – who had recently moved from New York – had befriended us also.

Veronica was where the problem began. Within days she had noticed how close Jughead and Betty were and immediately latched on to the idea of them as a couple, planting little seeds of romance in both their heads until, at a party over the summer, they finally kissed. As I had been silently crushing on Jughead for the last six years, I had become a master of hiding my feelings. Nevertheless, I spent the rest of the summer uncomfortably third-wheeling at Pop’s as Jughead and Betty shared milkshakes and giggled as they stole each other’s fries, play-fighting and calling each other names. Ironically, I was incredibly thankful when my Mum put me on a plane back to Toronto for the last few weeks of the holiday, insisting that I had to spend time with Dad and his latest girlfriend before I went back to school.

I spent the weeks in Toronto dreading the return back to Riverdale, I wasn’t sure how much more of ‘Bughead’ – as my friends had named them – I could take before I lost it. I had liked Jughead for so long and the fact that he had never had a girlfriend before now was my only comfort, it was easier when he didn’t like anyone, I didn’t feel rejected then. I kept my head down as I walked down the school corridor towards my locker, taking care not to bump into anyone. After I had re-organised my books and pulled out the ones I needed for class, I absent-mindedly closed my locker and, leaning against the opposite wall, I pulled out my phone to check my Instagram feed before the bell rang.

“How was Toronto? Got any new stories for me?” I could hear the smirk in his voice before I saw it. His raven curls were spilling out from his grey beanie and falling over his eyes, I resisted the urge to reach up and touch them. Blushing, I tucked my own hair behind my ear instead as part of it escaped from my messy bun, similarly to the way the rest of me was unravelling at the sight of him. I thought of something witty to say, even flirtatious, but I remembered that he was with Betty and our previously mischievous friendship had boundaries.

“Not this time Jones, it was pretty uneventful.” I muttered as I returned my gaze to my phone-screen.

“Awh come on Y/N! Not a single bad date? Surely your dad found a friend with a wealthy son to marry you off to...?” He winked at me and cocked his head to the side, the butterflies in my stomach started doing flips. I smiled politely and shook my head; any further conversation was saved by the sound of the bell ordering us towards our first lesson.

In English, I was surprised to see Betty sitting with Kevin instead of Jughead. I shrugged, concluding that we had been assigned some kind of paired project, but my suspicion returned when Jughead sank down next to me. I figured that something was going on. What had I missed over the summer? I glanced around to see if Mr Bruce had entered the classroom yet, and pulled out my phone to text Betty.

Are you and Jug okay?? You always sit together, what am I missing?

Ask him! He broke up with my just after you left for Toronto... Something about liking someone else and not wanting to ruin our friendship!!

Relief and horror spread through me at the same time. The idea that I would no longer have to pretend to be happy for Betty and Jughead was liberating, but the thought of going through it all again for the sake of another girl filled me with dread. Despite my own feeling however, I hoped that Betty wasn’t hurt, she was one of my best friends after all and I knew how much Jughead meant to her.

“Betty and I broke up a few weeks ago, I thought you should know.” Jug whispered. He had propped himself across his side of the desk and, with his head leaning on his hand, was staring at me intently.

“That’s a shame, you guys were good together.” I replied, trying to sound sympathetic. He frowned slightly at my response and furrowed his brow; I began rummaging through my English books to hide from his careful gaze.

“It wasn’t fair on her you know? I couldn’t be with her knowing that I liked someone else – ”

“Jug, please stop.” I whispered. I couldn’t bear to listen to him spill his feelings to me about another girl and expect me to be okay, it was too much. He was looking at me, an expression of hurt imprinted upon his perfect features as he took in my words.

“Y/N? Have I done something wrong?” he murmured urgently, reaching out across the desk for my hand. I pulled my hands away immediately and placed them hastily on my lap. I hated seeing him upset but I also knew that I couldn’t listen to him express his feelings for someone else, not again. I had to tell him.

“I like you Jughead, I always have. Ever since I put that stupid Valentine’s card in your locker when we were in the fifth grade I’ve had feelings for you.” I realised that I was making a fool of myself but I continued regardless. “When you and Betty were together over the summer it hurt and I really tried to be happy for you but I just couldn’t. So please don’t expect me to do it again, please don’t make me listen about your feelings for another girl.”

I bit my lip and looked at my hands, silently cursing myself for letting my façade slip when I needed it the most. After a few seconds of silence I dared a look at him, expecting to be greeted with embarrassment and discomfort, but he was beaming at me. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion as I tried to understand his reaction; suddenly I felt a sickening fear that he was laughing at me... that he found my feelings amusing.

“Don’t mock me Jug, it isn’t kind.” I whispered as my lip quivered and my voice cracked.

“Oh Y/N, you’re such an idiot!” Jughead chuckled “I like you too.”

Jughead and I had been together for nearly three months when we went to Veronica’s Christmas party at the end of the autumn-term. Our time together had been almost perfect. I’d helped him with his novel while we drank countless milkshakes at Pop’s, we watched old-movies at the Drive-In, and he even introduced me as his girlfriend to his little sister Jellybean on one of their weekly video-chat sessions. The only problem was Betty. Betty and Jughead had soon reverted back to being best friends – much to everyone’s relief – and they insisted that their romantic feelings for each other had ceased now that Jughead was with me. Although I trusted Jughead, I struggled to trust Betty and as a result a lot of my thought process revolved around jealousy. I was paranoid about Betty’s feelings for Jughead which led me to feel jealous of their closeness as I was convinced that she wasn’t over him.

Despite Jughead’s reassurances, at the Christmas party my suspicions were proven correct. Just as I was returning from the kitchen with drinks for Veronica and me, I noticed Jughead and Betty at the end of the corridor, talking in hushed voices. Betty gestured towards the ceiling at something – I realised horrified that it was a sprig of mistletoe, Veronica had hung them all over the house – and just as Jughead was returning his gaze to her, a look of mild confusion on his face, she lent up and kissed him on the lips. As my grip on the thin prosecco flute tightened in response to my anger at the scene of betrayal playing out in front of me, the fragile glass smashed into what seemed like thousands of pieces, several of them slashing my skin as they imbedded themselves into the palm of my hand. Momentarily, I looked down at my hand in shock as dark red blood quickly pulsed from my wound and trickled down my fingers like a network of rivers. Weirdly, I barely felt even a twinge of pain as the glass sliced into my skin.

“OH MY GOD Y/N!” Jughead shouted in panic as he saw my cut-up hand. I couldn’t stop the tears pouring down my face as I saw him run over to me. “CAN SOMEONE GET SOME BANDAGES OR SOMETHING?” he called in the general direction of the living room as he held his hands out, about to cup my bleeding one. When he looked up at my face though, he realised that he had misinterpreted where my pain was coming from. Without giving him a chance to say anything else, I turned and ran for the door, slamming it in Jughead’s face as he tried to chase after me.

Later that night, after my mum had cleaned and bandaged my hand, I was curled up in bed trying desperately to think of anything except Jughead and Betty. Failing miserably, I pulled my phone from my bed-side table, no messages. I pushed my earphones into my ears and turned the first album on my playlist up to full volume, not even stopping to check what it was, I didn’t care. 

I woke a few hours later to the sound of my door creaking open. I blinked in the darkness and as my eyes adjusted I recognised Jughead sitting on the side of my bed, stroking my cheek with his hand, I cursed myself bitterly for giving him a key to the house.

“Jughead you need to leave! You can’t just walk in here whenever you want, especially after what you did” I growled. Glaring at him, I instinctively went to push him away with my injured hand and yelped when pain flared up again.

“Y/N stop! You’re hurting yourself!” he whispered urgently as he cupped my hand in his, stroking my wrist where the bandages stopped with his fingers.

“That’s not where I’m hurting, Jug” I whispered back. He nodded and kissed my bandaged palm before looking up at me and taking a deep breath.

“I’m sorry that you saw Betty kiss me. I should have realised what she was going to do and pushed her away but I didn’t because I’m an idiot. I want you to know that I pushed her away afterwards, right before you cut your hand. I told her that I’m with you now and that trying to break us up like that was cruel... and... Oh Y/N I’m so sorry I’ll understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore.”

As he choked out those last few words Jughead’s voice broke and he started crying. I sat there in complete shock; I didn’t think anyone had seen Jughead Jones cry before. I reached up with my good hand and wiped his tears from his cheeks, he nuzzled his face into my hand as he bit his lip. I sighed and climbed into his lap, lifting his face to mine, forcing him to look at me. I kissed him sweetly on the mouth, tasting the salt-water of his tears as I licked my lips when I pulled away. My breath hitched as his hands ran up my thighs and over my waist, pulling my pyjama top up over my navel, I could feel his soft fingers graze my back and I pushed him down onto the bed.

“I love you Y/N.”

I smiled into the kiss. That was the first time he said that.

“I love you too, Jughead Jones.”

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine fic - “All the Beautiful Pieces” (Rated NC17)

Blaine Anderson is spending the summer after graduation flipping houses with his brother for Cooper’s total home renovation show. The show features the worst houses Cooper can buy, with Blaine playing the role of lackey so that Cooper can torture him in front of his viewers. The last house Blaine has to renovate is an original Victorian House in San Diego, CA, which is in terrible condition. But this house turns out to be more than just another job. It was once owned by a famous Vaudeville ventriloquist by the name of Andrew Smythe. It houses a very interesting collection of items - among them, two life-sized puppets. Blaine isn’t sure exactly why, but he’s drawn to them - especially to the one with the beautiful blue eyes. He convinces Cooper to give him the puppets, and Blaine starts to restore them. In the course of the restoration, Blaine finds out that neither puppet is simply a run-of-the-mill puppet, and Andrew Smythe was hiding a secret that will be the key to saving two lives.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5 (6811 words)

Blaine pulls up to the house at a quarter after ten. It looks exactly the way he left it, horrendous paintjob and all, but with the addition of a U-Haul truck parked by the curb, and a grown man wearing a navy blue polo and retro 1980s acid wash jeans staring in at the window with his hands pressed to the glass. From the back, he looks like an oversized Cabbage Patch kid, but in the reflection of the window, he more closely resembles a young Karl Marx with the iconic frizzy beard.

“Blaine,” the man plaintively moans. “Blaine, where are you? Open the door…”

Blaine shakes his head when he sees him, chuckling at his woeful wail. Blaine parks in front of the house, but the man doesn’t notice, focused as intently as he is on the living room full of toys, visible through the curtains that Blaine neglected to pull closed the night before.

“Gary!” Blaine calls out as he steps out of his minivan. “Have some self-respect, man.”

“Blaine!” Gary exclaims. He spins around, face glowing with childlike excitement, but his voice tinged with exasperation at being kept waiting. “You can’t leave me out here with all those toys inside, begging for me to take them away from this awful house.” Gary presses his ear against the glass. “I can hear them, Blaine,” he says as Blaine approaches the door. “They’re saying Gary…come rescue us, Gary. We need you…”

“I’m sorry,” Blaine says, sorting through his key ring for the correct key. “I got held up.”

“Yeah��� - Gary flashes a knowing grin and a wink - “your brother told me all about it. Getting into the puppet biz, huh, Blaine?”

Blaine makes a disgusted face and turns away from Gary to unlock the door. “Jesus Christmas! You, too?” Blaine pushes the door in as far as he can. He grabs a broken ottoman to prop it open.

Gary walks in behind Blaine, but stops inside the doorway, his eyes wide with awe, his jaw dropped, a hand raised to cover his heart.

“I can’t…I can’t believe it,” he says dramatically, staring at the heaps of toys and the stacks of boxes. “It’s…it’s amazing.”

“Yeah,” Blaine agrees, pulling his webcam out of his pocket and switching it on, “and this isn’t even half of it.”

Gary whimpers. Blaine trains the camera on his face.

“It’s like a dream come true,” Gary whispers, wiping an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye.

“Snap out of it, Gary.” Blaine snaps his fingers in the air above the webcam. “You have to do your spiel.”

Gary startles out of his trance at the unpleasant noise.

“Right, right…” He tugs down on the hem of his polo to straighten out the wrinkles (not that it does any good, or that they matter compared to the mustard stain on his collar) and looks into the camera. “When should I…”

“Now,” Blaine says, launching straight into the segment. “Hello, guys, gals, and Internet pals (Cooper’s tagline; Blaine had nothing to do with it). This is Blaine Anderson, coming to you from day 2 of our renovation. I’m here with our good friend Gary Shepton…” Gary gives the camera a timid wave, his eyes bouncing between Blaine and the webcam, unsure where to look even though they’ve done this several times before already “…and he’s going to be appraising the toys in the house. Gary, please tell our viewers what exactly it is you’re going to be doing while you’re here.”

“I’m going to start off by photographing and cataloging,” Gary explains. He pulls an iPad mini tablet out of his back pocket and holds it up. He accesses an empty Excel document and shows it to the camera. “When I’m done, I’ll load up the toys that I can sell immediately into my U-Haul and take them to my shop. In the interim, I’m going to send Cooper a detailed inventory of all the toys, their conditions, and their estimated values.”

“How will you get that information?” Blaine asks, again taping filler for Cooper to use in case he runs a few minutes short of his time slot.

“I use Google Goggles and other appraisal specific Internet surfing software to help me research the items I’m looking at fairly quickly. One photograph and I can bring up the information I need.” Gary switches to a program on his tablet and turns on a demo that illustrates the technique. “It makes researching a lot easier and more accurate. It can also put me in contact with other appraisers who have encountered the same items, who might have some insight that could be useful. Cuts down on the possibility of accidentally dealing in counterfeit merchandise.” Gary smirks. “I wish I had this five years ago, I’ll tell you what. Would have saved me a ton of money on my AT&T bill, tracking that information down one phone call at a time.”

“We have rooms and rooms full of toys in this house. How long do you think that’s going to take?” Blaine asks, his question a veiled way of finding out how long they’re going to be there.

“Most of the day, if I’m lucky,” Gary says with a dreamy sigh.

Great, Blaine thinks, hoping that Kurt and Sebastian don’t get too bored watching old movies all day long.

Yup, bored puppets. Because that’s a definite possibility.

“Okay,” Blaine says, switching off the webcam while trying not to sound too disappointed. “I have some things to do in the house and some phone calls to make. If you need me, just holler.”

“Will do,” Gary says, his attention already drawn to a stack of vintage Barbie dolls in the far corner.

Blaine watches him go, shaking his head at the odd man.

“Have fun,” he says, watching Gary put on a pair of white cotton gloves and get to work.

***

Unlike dealing with Cooper’s other project houses, which were a simple matter of calling in a clean-up crew to get rid of the garbage and occasionally coming across a gem or two that they could sell, this house is a complicated mishmash of treasures and antiques, coupled with the fairly typical, grotesque trash. Blaine needs to pull out his whole metaphorical Rolodex of contacts for this project. He needs to find someone to unload the heavy tools in the basement, someone else to appraise the sports memorabilia upstairs, and he needs to order a temporary storage unit for the furniture. Authentic Victorian furnishings are highly coveted, which makes them hard to locate, and ultimately expensive when you find someone willing to part with them. He intends on keeping anything he can salvage and repurposing it for the renovation.

The upstairs bedrooms are going to be the easiest rooms to renovate by far. It’s a given that Cooper is going to want to sell the baseball pennants and the bat, and probably the opera posters, too. There’s a huge market for those vintage posters, especially ones in mint condition with bright colors like these posters have. But the furniture will stay.

A pit blossoms in Blaine’s stomach at the thought of dismantling Kurt’s bedroom.

Blaine had originally thought that the workshop in the basement where the puppets were made was the heart of the house. After he saw the bedrooms, he realized he was wrong. The upstairs rooms, so well-tended, adorned with carefully chosen mementos – those rooms are the heart of the house.

Blaine feels sick at the idea of tearing that heart apart.

But he has Kurt, he reminds himself. He saved Kurt…and Sebastian…and that’s all that matters.

Yes, all that matters is my burgeoning insanity and a future on tabloid talk shows, he acknowledges ruefully.

Blaine heads down the hallway to the dining room, smiling to himself when he hears Gary chirp in triumph at some amazing doll-related discovery.

“They had the whole Bob Mackie for Barbie collection? Sweet!”

Blaine heads up the stairs to the next level, but bypasses the bedrooms, opting to start in the attic. They spent practically no time up there yesterday during the walkthrough. Blaine wants to get a better look at the neat stacks of boxes and the furnishings that were kept up there. He knows he’ll have to deal with those latent memories in the bedrooms eventually, plus the possibility of another fantasy involving Kurt, so for now, he’ll start with the easy-to-handle stuff.

Blaine switches the webcam to still-camera mode as he heads up the last flight of stairs. There doesn’t appear to be a light switch up here, but sunlight floods in through a large circular vent in the outer wall, making the whole room warm and bright.

Blaine puts on a pair of his own protective gloves and examines the furniture items stored up there closely – a stand-up lamp with what looks like a Tiffany shade; another table lamp with a pleated, cream-fabric shade, sitting on a squat, cherry wood end table that had most likely been in the living room at some point; four chairs that belonged to the dining room table downstairs; and a matching pair of Queen Victoria wing chairs, upholstered in a cream fabric imprinted with gold ivy leaves.

Blaine photographs each piece, mentally fixing where he wants to put them in the house. He wonders if Kurt would have liked one of those wing chairs in his room, or maybe the stand-up lamp next to his sewing machine while he worked. What kinds of clothes did he sew? Did he make outfits for himself, or did he maybe make clothes and sell them?

Or perhaps he worked in the theater, designing costumes. Those posters in his room could be from performances he worked on.

Blaine smiles, imagining Kurt as a student at McKinley, working on the costumes for the musical Blaine starred in his junior year – West Side Story. They could have chatted while Kurt took his measurements, discussed what outfits Kurt could see Tony wearing during certain scenes and why. What insights might he have had on Tony and Maria’s motivations, and how would he have portrayed that through their costumes? Blaine always felt that the people in charge of wardrobes on certain television shows understand the characters better than the writers do sometimes. What would Kurt have to say about that?

Blaine moves the standing lamp into better lighting while he daydreams of afternoons spent with Kurt after school, talking over fittings between rehearsals. Blaine could picture himself asking Kurt to help him run through his lines while he built up the nerve to ask Kurt out on a date…provided, of course, that Kurt liked guys that way. Blaine can’t shake the feeling he did. Blaine sighs. Didn’t he get on Cooper’s case for making assumptions about the sexual identity of the person who inhabited Kurt’s room? Blaine doesn’t want to be a hypocrite, but for some reason he can’t help doing the same thing. Everything he sees, everything he touches is a clue to who these people were, the same as in every house, but with Kurt…there’s an impression Blaine gets that has nothing to do with the posters or the sewing machine. It’s like he feels Kurt in this house. A part of him is there, telling Blaine about him; things that Blaine wouldn’t otherwise infer from the stuff lying around. But it’s not as simple as that, either. This impression of Kurt, it’s not passively hiding in individual objects, waiting to be uncovered. Blaine feels like it’s following him, guiding him, the same way he did when he first went down to the basement.

Whatever secret this house holds that has to do with Kurt, it wants to be revealed.

Blaine repositions the lamp shade so that the sunlight streams through the dark glass and takes a picture. He’s all set to take another picture when, out of the corner of his eye, he spots peculiar markings along one side of the boxes. Blaine pockets his webcam and walks over to take a look. He runs a gloved finger over one line of writing. It’s difficult to read because whatever marker had been used to write this has bled into the cardboard, but a skeleton of the words remains.

Blaine has seen this before. He wishes he had brought one of the photographs from the album at the beach house with him to compare against. He had thought about carrying Kurt’s picture in his pocket, but he didn’t want to ruin it. These nearly unreadable words, hastily scribbled by a hand that probably didn’t spend too much time writing, look identical to the writing on the backs of the photographs.

Blaine tears into the first box. The interlocking flaps, softened by age and dampness, pop up with little effort. The very top of the box is layered in newspaper, faded where the inch-wide seam between the loose flaps exposed it to sunlight but otherwise intact. Blaine digs through the pages, catching sight of conflicting dates. The newspaper on top is the most recent, albeit from about thirty years ago, but a few layers down the dates get older. Beneath them, Blaine finds a wealth of leather bound books. Blaine lifts the ones on top to peek underneath.

Yup, more books.

Blaine frowns.

A lot of people collect vintage books. That’s not unusual. It just seems too normal for this house. Blaine isn’t sure what he expected to find in this box, but it wasn’t boring books. Blaine picks one up anyway to examine it.

At least Cooper will be thrilled. He has a guy in L.A. who buys rare books, and considering all the other collectibles in the house, these books are probably first editions.

Blaine opens the cover and turns to a random page.

January 18th –

I’ll never get used to the weather in Seattle. Always so wet, always so dreary. I much prefer the California coast with its sunshine and warmth. And the ocean. God, I love the ocean. If only we could find a place to settle down there where we all can be happy. I miss you guys. Every day I miss you guys. I’ll never forgive myself for missing the most important day of our lives…and I did it again. But I’m trying to make a new life for us, doll, and when I break into the big time, it’s going to be the best of the best for the Smythe family.

Blaine stops reading. He looks at the black leather cover, the spine bare except for a gold embossed number – 1915.

These aren’t just books, Blaine realizes. They’re journals.

Blaine reaches into the box and looks at the books again, each one similar, each with a different year embossed along the spine – 1916, 1917, 1918, 1919…

It doesn’t seem like there’s an end to them. Blaine returns the book, pulls the box down from the stack, and goes for the next box. The flaps spring open as if they have been waiting years for someone to come along and find them, and a strong smell escapes.

A burnt smell, like coals left over after a barbecue.

No newspapers cover these. Blaine picks up the first journal on top. The date on the spine is worn flat and almost too difficult to read. He traces his finger over it, revealing an imprint of the number 1932. Blaine examines his glove covered digit. The cotton is stained black by a layer of fine ash. He raises the book to his nose and takes a tentative sniff.

It smells like a fireplace.

Blaine looks the journal over thoroughly. The gold rind on the pages is singed, and parts of the leather cover are burnt. Blaine opens the book to a page in the middle.

November 24 –

It’s Thanksgiving Day, but there’s nothing to be thankful for. Everything is gone. All of it, my entire life, gone. I would bring you all back if I could. I would trade everything that I said and did to make it all right again.

The paragraph cuts off there with a long, violent swipe of black ink cutting across the page, leaving an impression so deep that the tip of the pen sliced through the paper. Blaine turns the page to look for another entry but there’s nothing. No entry for November 25, none for November 26, no other entries for the rest of the month. Blaine keeps flipping the pages, but the book is blank until Christmas Day.

December 25 –

Merry Christmas to all those I love who are no longer here with me. I feel your presence every day, haunting me, but it’s not the same.

That’s the last entry for the remainder of the year.

Blaine stares at the blank page labeled December 31st.

It seems so empty, so final.

Blaine wishes there was something written there – anything. Something that tells him that despite it all, despite this obvious pain, life continued on and good things happened.

Blaine turns back to the beginning of the journal, to the earlier entries for the year.

February 14 –

It’s Valentine’s Day, and I miss you so much that I don’t think that I could even begin to tell you. I made your favorite dinner, bought a bottle of that God awful wine you loved so much, and ate alone. Well, not alone. Kurt was here with me. I love that boy and I appreciate his company, but it wasn’t the same as having you here. Meanwhile, Sebastian went out drinking…again. He takes a little too much after me, I’m afraid. He’s going to get some floozy knocked up, and then what? He’ll get chained down with a brood of simpering brats and no future. That’s not what you wanted for him, and it’s not what I want for him, but he doesn’t listen to me.

The sad thing is that I’m past the point where I think I care anymore.

Blaine feels his throat tighten as he reads on, blowing through a bunch of pages, letting the book lead him to where he should read next.

March 6 –

Everyone is telling me to pack it in. They tell me that it’s over, but I refuse to believe it. So maybe the work isn’t out there the way it was, but we’ve suffered dry patches before. The audiences will come back. Once they realize these talkies are just a gimmick, they’ll return. They always do. They’ll be begging us to perform for them, and we’ll be able to name our price. The money will flow in ten deep, I’m sure…but if they don’t, what will I tell my boys? How do I tell them it’s over? That the world thinks we’re finished?

“What?” Blaine asks the book, thumbing through the pages and hoping he’ll magically stumble on the answer. “What’s over?”

Blaine scans the pages, but he’s overwhelmed by the amount of entries and the nearly indecipherable script. He looks at the boxes stacked in front of him. There are six total. They can’t all be full of books, can they? Did whoever wrote in these journals write one for every year of his life?

There’s only one way to find out. Blaine would have to read through them all.

The boxes are going home with him.

Blaine repacks the box and hoists it into his arms.

It’s a treacherous trip down the narrow stairs with this box of books he’s carrying, but as with the puppets, there’s a compulsion within him to see this through. Whatever went on here, these books are a clue he’ll need to solve the mystery. He can’t leave them behind.

Blaine walks into the dining room and shuffles across the floor, down the hallway and into the living room, which has become emptier now that Gary has started loading the dolls into his U-Haul. Less clutter means more room for the house to breathe. The atmosphere in the downstairs level already seems lighter.

Blaine carries the box out to his minivan. He balances it between the door and his leg in order to fish his keys out of his pocket and open the back hatch. He puts the box in his trunk, shoving it over as far as he can to one side to make room for the others. He doesn’t shut the hatch completely before rushing back inside for another box.

“How’s it goin’, Gare?” Blaine asks as he blows past the man heading toward the front door, his arms laden with pink boxes. Blaine asks the question, but doesn’t stop to wait for an answer.

“I never want to leave,” Gary calls after him.

Blaine grumbles to himself, “Well, you’re gonna.”

One by one, Blaine carries the boxes of books down to his van, eager to go through each box and unlock whatever secret these journals may hold.

As he carries the last box through the living room, he remembers that he’s supposed to be filming Gary working, and to a lesser extent, himself.

“When I come back in, I need to film you, Gary,” Blaine yells to the man unloading the toys in the downstairs bathroom.

“Whatever floats your boat,” Gary replies. “By the way, I think your brother is going to be really happy with the numbers I’m going to send him.”

“That good?” Blaine asks, stopping for a moment out of curiosity.

“Oh, yeah,” Gary says. “Most of this stuff is going to be no problem to move. I have a guy who’s looking for half the stuff I’ve found already, and he’s willing to pay higher than market price. I think he’s reselling them in Japan or something. He’ll probably get ten times as much over there.”

“Wow,” Blaine says, genuinely impressed.

“Yeah. If I were you, I’d ask for a raise.”

Blaine swallows. Too late for that, he thinks. God knows he could have used the money, too. But he’s not about to unload on Gary – not about this.

“I’ll do that,” Blaine says instead and heads out to his van.

All six boxes fit, shoved against each other tight without a single centimeter of space between them. The rear of his minivan sinks about a foot beneath the weight.

He closes the trunk, intent on heading back into the house right as a silver Lexus pulls up to the curb. Blaine doesn’t recognize the car and waits to see who it is. Maybe a neighbor stopping by to see what the activity is about. Blaine hasn’t met anyone from the neighborhood yet, which seems peculiar. Not one lookie loo. Not a single nosy neighbor.

The Lexus parks in front of Blaine’s Honda, nearly bumper to bumper. The driver’s door opens and a woman steps out, but she doesn’t acknowledge Blaine. She may not even realize that he’s standing there with the way she has her gaze honed in on the house in front of her. When she stands completely, she’s an inch or two taller than Blaine. She’s dressed to intimidate in a tailored, aubergine suit. A billowy, white shirt underneath the jacket lends an air of femininity to her starched ensemble. She has sleek, auburn hair styled in a bob that falls an inch above her earlobes. Her tan looks artificial – too perfect, too even, and a touch too orange, but everything about her appearance has been meticulously thought out. She seems put together with exceptionally clean angles, from the razor cut of her hair, to the severe downturn of her mouth and her sharp, pointed chin.

“So, it finally sold,” she says, shaking her head with blatant disapproval. “I almost didn’t believe it when I heard.”

“Uh, may I help you?” Blaine asks. He walks toward her, reaching for his webcam, but the scowl on the woman’s face causes him to reconsider whether or not he should record this conversation for his brother’s show. She turns only her head and looks Blaine over from head to foot with an unamused half-smile/half-frown playing on her lips.

“I don’t know,” she says curtly. “Can you?”

Blaine jerks back at her impolite and, frankly, adolescent response. “I probably can if you tell me…”

“My name is Catherine Dorst,” she interrupts. “I’m a liaison for the San Diego Historical Society, and I’m curious to know what the new owners have planned for this house.”

“I’m Blaine Anderson.” Blaine offers the woman a cordial smile and his hand. She looks him over again and scoffs, turning back to the house.

“Okay,” Blaine starts, pulling his hand away, “well, we plan to bring the house back to its original design,” he says confidently. “We’re going to keep all the original structural details and…”

“We?” she interrupts again with a smirk, examining Blaine shrewdly. “You and who else? I mean, how old are you? Twelve?”

“Uh, no,” he says, ducking his head and adopting what tries to be a polite smile. He doesn’t take too much offense since looking younger than his age is a boon in his chosen profession. “Cooper Anderson bought the house for his home renovation show. I’m his brother. I’m in charge of the renovation.”

Her eyes pop open, still glaring at him, but with an excited expression on her face.

“Cooper Anderson?” she asks. “The Cooper Anderson?”

Blaine sighs. Oh boy. A fan.

“The one and only,” he says, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“I’ve seen him on TV,” she says, straightening her suit and fussing with her hair. “Is he here?” She starts up the walk as Gary walks out with another armload of dolls, humming to himself and laughing at odd intervals. She glances at him with a grimace but keeps on walking.

“No,” Blaine replies, tailing after her, “he’s not here. He’s in L.A.”

She stops short and stares at the open door, deciding whether or not it’s worth going inside and checking for herself. When she spots Gary walking back to the house, brushing grey dust off the legs of his jeans, she comes to the conclusion that risking similar damage to her $1200 suit isn’t worth it.

“Shame,” she says, turning back around and heading for her car. She crooks a finger over her shoulder, summoning Blaine to follow. “The Historical Society has been trying to buy this house for a while now, but I guess it just wasn’t in the stars.” She opens her passenger side door and pulls out a leather briefcase. Resting it on the roof of her Lexus, she dials the combination to the lock. When the lid snaps open, she pulls out a manila file full of paperwork. “Since this is a historical point of interest, we have some recommendations for the renovation, a list of materials we ask that you use, a request form to put the address of the house on our tour list…”

“What list?” Blaine asks, taking the papers that she thrusts in his direction.

“Our website lists the addresses of authentic Victorian houses in the county for people to drive by and look at. You’re not required to add the Smythe House to the list, of course, but that doesn’t mean people won’t find you and drop by anyway. At least if you are listed on our website, people will have to abide by the rules we lay down to protect your privacy.”

Blaine’s eyes flick up from the papers in front of him. “Smythe House?”

“Andrew Smythe,” Catherine says. “He bought this house back in the mid-30s.”

Smythe. The same name that’s on the Little League jersey in the bedroom upstairs.

“Who was Andrew Smythe?” Blaine asks, giving Catherine his undivided attention.

She rolls her eyes. “Did you even Google this house before you started tearing into it?” she asks bitterly.

“I only first saw it yesterday,” Blaine says, trying not to sound too defensive. “And I haven’t torn into it. We’re in the process of clearing it out. I intend on taking my time to get this renovation right. I was actually planning on dropping by your offices myself later on this week for some advice.”

Catherine stands up an inch straighter, visibly impressed. “Well then…Andrew Smythe was one of the last great Vaudevillians of his time,” she explains with a smidgen more respect, but for him or for Andrew, Blaine doesn’t venture a guess, “as well as one of Vaudeville’s staunchest supporters.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Catherine shuts her briefcase and puts it back in her car, closing the door to lean against it while she speaks. “He was one of those precious few who were holding on with both hands, waiting for Vaudeville to make a revival.” She crosses her arms, and her eyes go slightly unfocused, recalling a memory. “Vaudeville took a lot from Andrew, like it did from other performers.”

Blaine has a feeling he knows what she’s referring to, but he asks anyway. “What did it take?”

Catherine gazes over Blaine’s head at the house with a sorrowful look in her eyes before she answers. “His wife,” she says heavily, “and his sons.”

“He had sons?” It’s both a question and a declaration. Blaine is stitching up the clues he already knows, adding Catherine’s confirmation to the seams.

“Yes. Two. Though there was speculation that one of them wasn’t his son.”

Blaine narrows his eyelids at the woman staring past him at the house. “Were their names…Kurt and Sebastian?”

Those names seem to snap her out of her haze, her eyes shooting down to meet his. “Yes, they were.” She smiles. “It looks like you may have done some homework after all.”

Blaine is about to mention the puppets in the basement and the journals from the attic, but he holds his tongue. He doesn’t want Catherine asking to see them…or possibly to take them. This house was declared a historical landmark before Cooper bought it. According to the auction company he purchased the property from, everything inside the house belongs to him, but if it has historical significance, can Catherine claim it? Blaine is iffy on the legalities of their situation, so he says nothing. He’s not willing to part with his puppets – to part with Kurt - or these new clues that he’s found.

“Look,” Catherine says, her turn to break Blaine from his thoughts, “I apologize if I’m being a little touchy about this, but we were supposed to be the first ones contacted when the owner died. We were poised to buy this house, but the bank moved straight to auction and we were never informed…”

Catherine’s comment strikes a chord – something Blaine read in the paperwork his brother sent him that doesn’t match up to Catherine’s story about Andrew Smythe owning the house.

“Okay, but what I don’t understand is” - Blaine interrupts this time, feeling an ease to do so - “my brother bought the house at auction, but the owner prior to the bank is listed as…Terry? Tricia?”

Catherine shakes her head as a breeze picks its way through her auburn bob, blowing a few strands in her face. “Teresa,” she corrects, brushing the hair from her eyes. “Teresa Calhoun. She was named on the deed to the house as his niece.”

“So, Andrew had a sister?” Blaine asks hopefully, interested in finding a living relative who might know the story of Andrew and his sons.

“No, Andrew Smythe had no other family according to public record. I don’t think she was a blood relative. Vaudeville performers were a tight knit group. I think Teresa was dumped off on Andrew because there was no one else to care for the girl, and he couldn’t say no. But by that point, he didn’t quite have all his ducks in a row, if you catch my drift, and with good reason.” Catherine sighs. It’s a fretful sound. “I don’t think he sent her to school. I don’t think she even left the house.”

Catherine pauses, watching Gary emerge through the front door while Blaine stands by quietly, waiting for her to continue.

“Before Andrew died, he tried to make arrangements for Teresa, but she had no other relatives, and she couldn’t live on her own. Without a guardian, she would have been committed. So he contacted us, and we worked together to have the house declared a historical landmark.”

“I heard Victorian houses were a hot commodity out here,” Blaine interjects.

“They are, but being a historical landmark, she would be safe to live out the rest of her life here. There were some requirements with regard to the house’s upkeep that Andrew still had to fulfill. We had discussed plans for turning the house into a Vaudeville museum eventually, but Andrew died before we could finalize the paperwork. After that, Teresa wouldn’t answer the door when we came by, and she never picked up the phone.” A veil of longing clouds Catherine’s eyes. “You know, Andrew bought this place pretty much right after his sons died. I think it was a way for him to try and start over. Maybe he was considering starting another family. I don’t know. But I hope whoever buys this house knows what it’s worth.”

“I’ll make sure my brother finds someone worthy of it,” Blaine says. The moment the words come out of his mouth, he commits them as a vow. Usually Blaine doesn’t concern himself with who buys the renovated houses off of his brother once he’s done with them, but he can’t let just anyone buy this house…not now.

“See that you do,” Catherine says with a wink, extending a hand his way. “It was nice meeting you, Blaine.”

Blaine takes her hand and shakes it. “It was nice meeting you, too.”

She smiles at him, takes one last look at the house, and then climbs back into her Lexus. She starts the engine, but doesn’t pull away from the curb. She rolls down her passenger side window and leans across the seats.

“Oh, Blaine? One more thing.”

“Yes?”

“We still have an exhibit down at our main offices on the history of Vaudeville in San Diego, but we are desperately short on any actual artifacts. If you come across something in there that you think you can part with, would you give me a call?” Catherine reaches into her glove box, pulls out a business card, and hands it through the window to Blaine.

“Sure.” A spark of possessiveness lights in Blaine’s chest, almost as if she had asked for his puppets outright. “Anything in particular you’re looking for?”

“Anything really,” she says with a non-committal twist of her lips. “Posters, costumes…if you guys find Sammy, and your brother is willing to part with him, I’d be extra special grateful.” Her words sound oddly suggestive, but Blaine lets it go.

“Sammy?” Blaine scrunches his nose.

“Andrew’s puppet,” Catherine clarifies. “His main puppet, I should say. After Andrew left Vaudeville, no one saw Sammy again. I would love to see him resurface.”

“So, Andrew Smythe was a ventriloquist.” Blaine reads the words on the business card before sticking it in his back pocket. “Were Kurt and Sebastian ventriloquists, too?”

“Sebastian was” - Catherine sits up in her seat, preparing to drive - “or his dad was training him to be. People say he wasn’t all that good at it.”

“And Kurt?”

“He sang. He was a countertenor - a rare talent. He would have been a headliner, too, only…” Catherine glances down at her steering wheel. “Well, I think you can guess.”

“Yeah. I can guess.”

Catherine raises a hand and waves at Blaine. Then she turns her Lexus around in the cul-de-sac and drives away.

Blaine stares at the papers in his hands. Every day at this house is going to be a new adventure in pain and heart break; he can feel it. Now along with Andrew and his sons, he can add the mysterious Teresa to the mix. But even with this new information, he has more questions and less answers than he did before. He stows the paperwork Catherine gave him in the van and returns to work, eager to wrap things up for the day and go already.

“Hey! I uncovered the fireplace,” Gary says, gesturing to a space in the far corner of the living room when Blaine re-enters the house.

“Fireplace? Oh, yeah…” Blaine had seen the chimney from the outside, but for some reason the idea of the house having a fireplace hadn’t occurred to him. A working fireplace will definitely tack higher digits to Cooper’s asking price. But that hollow recess in the living room wall made of soot baked bricks, the corpses of dead birds piled where logs normally would be, immediately brings to mind the burnt journal currently sitting in his trunk, waiting to be read. And he’s dying to read it. He groans, knowing he can’t leave until Gary is done with his work.

There’s got to be a way to get him to move faster.

Blaine spends the rest of the afternoon slogging through the busywork that he didn’t get done the day before. He makes his phone calls, schedules more appraisers to come down to the house, and orders a storage unit for the furniture. Then he putters around with Gary, taping him for Cooper’s show. He gets the brilliant idea to help him move the dolls to the U-Haul so he doesn’t just sit around and count the hours before he can return to the beach house and Kurt.

It’s a little before seven in the evening before Gary has to call it quits for the day, his eyes crossing every time he tries to read the print on another pink box. He begs Blaine for the opportunity to come back tomorrow and finish with the lot.

Blaine needs Gary to sell the toys. Did Gary really think Blaine would say no?

Blaine waves to Gary, watching the box truck pull away with its haul. Blaine is glad that those toys will find new homes, but seeing them go feels like carving away at the spirit of the house. But without them littering the floor, Blaine gets a better idea of what the house looked like when it was new. It wasn’t a glorified storage unit or a junk pile. It was a home, and this one might have been more full of hope than any Blaine has ever seen. It was supposed to be a way to start over.

Blaine wonders how far Andrew Smythe really got with that goal.

He peeks over at his trunk, filled with boxes of journals that might answer that question, ready to travel to the beach house.

That’s a lot of reading he’s got ahead of him.

Blaine starts locking up, making sure that the curtains are drawn this time around before he leaves to deter any other curious eyes, but just as he’s about to throw the deadbolt, he has a thought. He unlocks the door and heads back in, jogging upstairs to the bedrooms. He goes into Kurt’s room and retrieves the suit from the bed.

This suit was made for Kurt, and Blaine is eager to see him in it.

It still astounds Blaine how this suit seems so brand new, like it could have been made yesterday.

Blaine brings the fabric to his nose and sniffs it.

It even smells new; not like it’s ever sat in mothballs, even once. Blaine’s mother had inherited dresses of her grandmother’s that had been stored improperly in mothballs after she passed away. His parents had those dresses professionally repaired, but no amount of dry cleaning could get that odor out. It adheres to the fibers, embeds itself there.

But this suit simply smells like fabric.

Blaine examines it. He admires the weave and the stitching. Then he turns his attention to the rest of the room – the bed, the sewing machine, the dress form, the posters… Everything in here was tailored for Kurt, the way the other room was decorated specifically for Sebastian.

Everything looking brand spanking new…new and unused.

Blaine thinks over his conversation with Catherine, and as her words repeat in his head, he pulls the suit close to him, hugging it tight to his chest.

If Andrew Smythe bought this house to start over after his sons died, that means Kurt and Sebastian were never in these rooms.

Sebastian likely never wore that jersey, never saw that signed baseball bat or those pennants hanging on the wall.

Kurt never used the dress form, nor the sewing machine, even though the bobbins are full and the needle threaded.

They never opened their wardrobes, never slept in their beds.

Blaine gulps down the pit that’s been bouncing around in his stomach all day.

Kurt and Sebastian never set foot in this house.

This isn’t a bedroom he’s standing in.

It’s a shrine.

[pcwpolwrestling]

The 'Do Not Get on Her List' Edition of PCW Extreme Political TV

THIS WEEK ON EXTREME POLITICAL TV-Felcher and Felcher- Extreme Attorneys discuss how to choose the next Champion of the Political Universe -Jerrold Nadler (NY-Progressive Alliance) of the ‘Oversight’ Committee comes calling. -Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (NY-Progressive Alliance) has a ‘list.’-Mitch Thomas-American Taxpayer vs. Andrew ‘The Bureaucrat’ Riley -Blue Brand Champion ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels talks fracas with PCW Champion Stone Chism. -PCW Television and Women’s Title being brought back-#1 CONTENDER’S MATCH-PCW TITLE: Jack Fraiser vs. ‘American Citizen’ Kevin Scott-MAIN EVENT/NON-TITLE MATCH: PCW Champion ‘The One Man Anti-Hollywood A-List’ Stone Chism vs. Jack from State Barn Insurance

================================

[ON SCREEN GRAPHIC: Blue background. The top of the Capitol Building occupies the left hand side of the television screen.

Centered in the middle of the screen: “P-SPAN. THE POLITICAL CHANNEL.”]

P-SPAN Announcer (off screen): The P-SPAN Network bring you long-form public affairs programming from the nation’s capital and are a public service of…

[ON SCREEN GRAPHIC: Logos of twenty three different cable and satellite television companies replace the Capitol Building and P-SPAN graphic.]

P-SPAN Announcer (v/o): …your television provider.

[ON SCREEN GRAPHIC: Returns to the blue background with the top of the Capitol Building occupying the left hand side of the television screen with “P-SPAN. THE POLITICAL CHANNEL.” centered in the middle of the screen.]

P-SPAN Announcer (v/o): P-SPAN. The Political Channel.

===============================

LAST WEEK ON PCW EXTREME POLITICAL TV:

Champion of the Political Universe: ‘Red Solo Plastic Cup’ Ray McAvay defeats The Mononaghelian Stomper in short order. McAvay then talks with backstage reporter Blair Moise about ‘The McAvay Way’ until they’re interrupted by ‘Charlie Wrestling’ Charlie Blackwell.

Blackwell’s split from the SEC (is there anyone left?) and formed a new faction called Main Street USA with Farmer John Deere, Mike the Mechanic, and Sarah Mae Smith. Blackwell announces his intention to dethrone McAvay telling the Champion of the Political Universe “I am the now…I am the future.”

Then Professor McCarthy brings out The Ultimate Social Justice Warrior who says HE’s going to be the one who brings the title to the Progressive Alliance. USJW gets a sour welcome from the fans causing Peta from PETA to compare them to people celebrating Steve Irwin’s birthday. That goes over even worse. But the crowd gets happier when the Irwins come out and give Peta a Total Elimination.

Then it’s ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels turn. Daniels says he’s ‘not as extreme as some of the others’ and he’s the one to ‘wrestle’ the title away from Ray McAvay.

Then, Jill Berg brings out the ‘Wall Street Market Analyst with the Man Crush on ESPN’s Kirk Herbstreit’ Kirk Walstreit and presents him as the one who will become the next Champion of the Political Universe because…Walstreit holds up his velvet painting of Kirk Herbstreit ‘so well.’

‘Sports Entertainment Genius’ Mr. McMann reacts to Blackwell’s departure by admitting that the SEC needs to ‘clean house and start all over again.’ McMann tells CSPN’s Reese Anderson that he has a plan and everyone will ‘find out soon enough.’

PCW Tag Team Champions Rah and Halitosis aka The Island of Misfit Wrestlers get a huge win over the former champions Weapons of Mass Destruction (A. Tom Bomb and Hy Drogen Bomb) in a non-title match. The Red Brand sent WMD to defeat the reigning PCW Tag champions and WMD, who left PCW right the day of the D.C. Armory super show, wanted the match because of ‘unfinished business.’ But PCW Owner Dawn McGill thwarted their plan with a well time intervention to throw the match back to the champions.

PCW Champion ‘The One Man Anti-Hollywood A-List’ Stone Chism catches up to and destroys the Blue Brand Champion ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels backstage in payback for Daniels’s attack on him at the D.C. Armory show.

The show ends with the Coke Brothers (financiers of the American Patriots) and George Moros (financiers of the Progressive Alliance) very unhappy with the turn of events.

==============================

PCW Extreme Political TV on P-SPAN Sunday March 3rd, 2019 Taped March 2nd at the Hulman Center Terre Haute, Indiana

Announcer:‘The Voice of PCW’ Johnny Suave‘Low Level Reporter at the New York Times Trying to Make a Name for Herself’ Colleen Crowder

==============================

The camera pans all over the Hulman Center as PCW is on the air! Fireworks go off. Spotlights move back and forth through the crowd.

Cut to ringside where ‘The Voice of PCW’ Johnny Suave stands at the broadcast table next to Colleen Crowder.

Johnny Suave: Hello everyone! This is Political Championship Wrestling!

Crowd: PCW!…PCW!…PCW!…

Johnny Suave: I am Johnny Suave. She is ‘Low Level Reporter at the New York Times Trying to Make a Name for Herself’ Colleen Crowder. Tonight we are broadcasting tonight from the Hulman Center in Terre Haute, Indiana with an exciting evening of political wrestling!

Suave reviews what went down last week. First, he talks about the four potential challengers to Champion of the Political Universe Ray McAvay: American Patriot’s ‘Wall Street Market Analyst with a Man Crush on ESPN’s Kirk Herbstreit’ Kirk Walstreit and Charlie Blackwell, Progressive Alliance’s Blue Brand Champion ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels or the Ultimate Social Justice Warrior.

Crowder, who missed most of the show, gets in her takes.

Colleen Crowder: Obviously, it should be Daniels or the Ultimate Social Justice Warrior. They would be champions that would better model the correct behavior that all of us should follow.

Suave finds it funny that Crowder mentions that and talks about the comments made on Tuesday Night’s Political Shakedown show.

VIDEO: Last Tuesday Night’s Blue Brand Political Shakedown

Extreme Attorneys Felcher and Felcher are in the ring.

R Felcher complains that part of the problem is that the Champion of the Political Universe is usually determined by someone who’s ‘better’ than everyone else. He alleges this deprives wrestlers of lesser talent from becoming the champion.

Johnny Suave: Well, DUHHHH!!!

Colleen Crowder: Shhhh. He’s making a lot of sense.

D Felcher calls it discriminatory and disenfranchises wrestlers who aren’t as good as others are.

R Felcher suggests that an enlightened ‘panel’ should actually choose the champion based on who best projects the ‘right’ image that everyone should follow.

Colleen Crowder: And what’s wrong with that?

Johnny Suave: Everything. A champion should win the title on merit inside the ring and not from a panel full of bias. But on the bright side, it was better than listening to the whining about Dawn McGill all night.

Jerrold Nadler (NY-Progressive Alliance), dressed in a suit, climbs into the ring.

Jerrold Nadler: Hello, my name is Jerrold Nadler. I am part of the Executive Committee Oversight Committee.

The fans boo.

Johnny Suave: Oops. I may have spoken too soon. Nadler was also a part of Tuesday Night’s Political Shakedown and commented on CEO of the Political Universe Donald Trump’s Security initiatives.

VIDEO: Last Tuesday Night’s Blue Brand Political Shakedown

Nadler says preventing people from entering the arenas for Blue Brand, Red Brand, and PCW shows simply because they don’t have tickets is not acceptable.

Jerrold Nadler: “Any instance where families…children…were kept from entering a venue to see a Blue Brand, Red Brand and PCW show because they didn’t have ticket will be investigated to the fullest extent. I intend to hold CEO Trump and his people accountable for these heinous actions.”

Nadler notes that he would have discussed this behind closed doors with PCW CEO Dawn McGill, but her recent behavior indicated that might not be a wise idea- referencing McGill throwing Professor McCarthy through her door out of her office.

Jerrold Nadler: I noticed people lined out outside the arena tonight who couldn’t come inside because they didn’t have a ticket. I saw families with children who could not get in. Families should be allowed into the arena regardless if they don’t have tickets because they have the right to experience PCW just like anyone else. My oversight committee will make sure this happens. My oversight committee will hold Dawn McGill and PCW accountable if they don’t allow them in.

This brings out PCW Owner Dawn McGill. She’s dressed in a black halter top, black mini-skirt, and a pair of killer heels tonight.

Oh, and she’s brought her children to the show: Eva (7 years old), and twins R.K. and Gracie (3 years old) come out with their mother.

Dawn McGill: That’s a bad argument Mr. Nadler. I signed a contract with the venue and paid a fee for us to be here tonight. I make money by charging a price for people to come here to watch the show. I don’t comp tickets to ANYONE. Including you. Including people who just think they can show up at the door and walk right in. It’s not fair to those who spent their hard earned money in order to come here tonight. It’s not fair to those who do the right thing but keep getting penalized by people like you for doing the right thing.

Undaunted by McGill’s response, Nadler makes clear that now that there’s a ‘new’ Oversight committee in charge PCW won’t be getting the free ride it was getting before.

Jerrold Nadler: You’ll either do it or else you’ll answer to me and my committee and we’ll make your life miserable.

Dawn McGill (to her children): Children. You may want to look away for a second.

The children do what they’re told.

Jerrold Nadler: What? What are you-OOOOF!

McGill drives her spiked heels into Nadler’s…er…nads. He bends over to a ninety degree angle.

Dawn McGill: I don’t answer to you; you answer to us. I don’t work for you. You work for me!

Eva: Mommy?

Dawn McGill: Not yet honey.

Dawn takes a side headlock and DDT’s Nadler to the mat.

Johnny Suave: Oooh!

Dawn McGill: You work for us…not your big money financiers…not your political cronies…for us. You work for the fans.

Crowd: PCW!…PCW!…PCW!…

McGill motions to her kids and they head to the back.

Cut to Suave and Crowder at the broadcast desk.

Colleen Crowder (angry): Dawn McGill needs anger management counseling and sensitivity training!

Johnny Suave: No, Dawn McGill has zero tolerance for political bull-*BLEEP*.

Crowder tries to argue but Suave moves along. He runs down tonight’s show:-It’s the day of reckoning for the Sports Entertainment Corporation.  What will Mr. McMann do?

-Number One Contender’s Match-PCW Title: ‘American Citizen’ Kevin Scott vs. Jack Fraiser.

-PCW Champion Stone Chism will be in action in a non-title match.

Johnny Suave: We’ll be back right after these messages.

=======================

**COMMERCIAL BREAK**

Brought to you by the Progressive Alliance:

[PCW Owner Dawn McGill watches the action on a monitor in her office.]

*KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK*

[She lifts her gaze towards the door.]

Dawn McGill: Enter.

[It’s Progressive Alliance Leaders Nancy Pelosi from California and Chuck Schumer from New York.]

Dawn McGill: Nancy. Chuck.

[Pelosi and Schumer approach her desk.]

Dawn McGill: What can I do for you?

Nancy Pelosi: Dawn, we’re here to offer you a golden opportunity.

[Dawn looks at her apprehensively.]

Dawn McGill: Golden opportunity?

Chuck Schumer: Yes. It’s time for the PCW to come home…to the Blue Brand.

[Dawn sits back in her chair.]

Dawn McGill: Come home to the Blue Brand.

Nancy Pelosi: That’s right. The Progressive Alliance is all about the little guy and the Blue Brand is the perfect place for them to be.

Dawn McGill: Really, now?

Chuck Schumer: Now, of course, your wrestlers will have to start all the way at the bottom.

Dawn McGill: At the bottom.

Nancy Pelosi: Well, we do have some wrestlers who are bankrolled by some of our big money supporters so they would obviously have to be pushed ahead of a newcomer.

Chuck Schumer: Plus, there’s the whole seniority thing that has to be taken into consideration.

Dawn McGill: That sounds intriguing…but I think I’m going to pass.

Nancy Pelosi: I see, you want us to sweeten the deal.

[Pelosi makes a hand gesture that denotes ‘sweetening the deal.’ McGill’s not sure what she’s doing. Even Schumer wonders what the hell she’s doing.]

Nancy Pelosi: Okay, we can throw in higher taxes, excessive regulations, artificial solutions to health care and wage stagnation-

Dawn McGill: Artificial solutions?

Chuck Schumer: Big government trickle down, economic mandates versus doing the hard work to formulate concrete long term solutions and promoting policies that create organic growth.

Dawn McGill: Ahh…gotcha.

[She’s not impressed.]

Dawn McGill: Guys, that’s a bad deal.

Nancy Pelosi: Ooooh…we’ve got a haggler here.

Chuck Schumer: Yes we do.

Dawn McGill: Um no. I’m not haggling.

[But yet, the haggling begins.]

Chuck Schumer: Okay…and I can’t believe I’m saying this…Miss McGill, we’ll even throw in political correctness…

Nancy Pelosi: …deep state bureaucrats and activist judges undermining the will of the people…

Chuck Schumer: …and maintaining the status quo for the Washington D.C. beltway elites to continue to prosper while middle America withers on the vine like they have for the past 25 years.

Dawn McGill: Really?

Nancy Pelosi: And last but not least…

[Former PCW CEO Barack Obama enters.]

Barack Obama: I’ll be the first one to welcome all of the bitter clingers to the Blue Brand!

[Dawn’s eyebrows raise.]

Nancy Pelosi: That’s our final offer.

[Dawn gets up from her chair.]

Dawn McGill: Um, no. If you’ll excuse me.

[She sprints for the door.]

Chuck Schumer: Oh…it’s the run out of the office and…

[Dawn slams the door behind her.]

Chuck Schumer: …shut the door in our face trick!

=======================

PCW ON THE ROADMarch 8th – United Wireless Center / Dodge City, KS March 9th – Tony’s Pizza Events Center / Salina, KS March 10th – Hartman Arena / Park City, KS March 16th – Jamestown Civic Center / Jamestown, SD March 22nd – Silverstein Eye Centers Arena / Independence, MO March 23rd – Qwest Center Omaha / Omaha, NE March 24th – Sanford Pentagon / Sioux Falls, SD March 30th – Taft Coliseum / Columbus, OH March 31st – Mayo Civic Center / Rochester, MN April 6th – Loose Cannons Unleashed PPV @ the D.C. Armory / Washington, D.C.

========================

OUTSIDE THE ARENAJohnny Suave (v/o): This just took place a couple of second ago.

A pissed off Jerrold Nadler heads back to his waiting limo. He’s got a bag of ice pressed up on his forehead and he winces as he takes a stride.

Jerrold Nadler: If PCW thought they were being oversighted before, Dawn McGill hasn’t seen oversight like the oversight she’s going to get. I’m going to show her a whole new meaning of oversight.

He gets into the limo and slams the door shut.

Cut back to Suave and Crowder at the broadcast desk.

Johnny Suave: So he’s a little upset.

Colleen Crowder: He has every right to be. Dawn McGill owes him an apology for the lack of respect she showed him.

Johnny Suave: I’m sure Dawn didn’t appreciate the lack of respect showed to her by Mr. Nabler-

Colleen Crowder: Nadler.

Johnny Suave: Yeah, whatever.

Crowder winds herself up into a fit but Suave moves on before she explodes.

Johnny Suave: If you saw last Monday’s Red Brand Political Wh-arrr show, you saw Mitch Thomas-American Taxpayer uncork this…

VIDEO: Last Monday night’s Red Brand Politico Wh-arrrr

The bell is about to ring but Mitch Thomas- American Taxpayer suddenly waves it off.

Mitch Thomas: It’s bad enough when some on the Blue Brand side basically tells you they hate you, your paycheck, and each and every day scheme of ways to take a few more bucks off the top of your paycheck. They demand your blind faith and most of all they demand your money. Basically, the message is work your ass off, shut the *BLEEP* up, and pay your *BLEEP* damn taxes. But when the Red side only plays lip service to complaints about what the ‘tax everything that moves’ folks are doing and that’s all. They don’t do a damn thing about it because they’re too busy taking care of big corporations and people who already have advantages over people like us. The Red side aren’t any better so *BLEEP* this. I’m outta here.

Colleen Crowder: In fairness, the Progressive Alliance believes everyone should work their ass off, shut the *BLEEP* up, and pay their *BLEEP* damn taxes.

Crowder adds Mitch is right about the American Patriots and completely wrong about the Progressive Alliance.

Color Suave ‘not surprised’ at the skewed analysis from Crowder.

Johnny Suave: Mitch Thomas just wants a fair and even playing field. And he ain’t going to get it at either the Red Brand or Blue Brand show.

Crowder tries to tell Suave that’s not the narrative they’re going with, but Suave has already thrown it to Kimber Marshall in the ring to introduce the first match of the show.

MATCH #1 – Mitch Thomas-American Taxpayer vs. Andrew ‘The Bureaucrat’ Riley

Mitch Thomas “American Taxpayer”HT: 5’ 10” WT: 185 / HOME: Guymon, OK FIN: Pencil Sharpener

Harvey Thomas “American Taxpayer”HT: 5”11 WT: 265 / HOME: Rowland, NC

Mitch comes out with Harvey Wilson- fellow American Taxpayer. Mitch has a microphone tells the crowd they’re happy to be back in PCW.

Mitch Thomas: PCW respects us. The Red and Blue Brand does not. And it’s my opinion that the American Patriots and Progressive Alliance definitely do not.

Andrew ‘The Bureaucrat’ Riley HT: 6′ 1″ WT: 214 / HOME: Washington, D.C. FIN: The Code Red Tape

Executive Assistant Melissa leads Riley out. He too has a microphone.

Andrew ‘The Bureaucrat’ Riley: For everything in work and in life, there’s a perfectly good process to do it. Trust the process.

Melissa nods in agreement and the two walk towards the ring.

Johnny Suave: So, it’s the classic battle between the American Taxpayer versus the Bureaucrat. Usually, the Bureaucrat comes out on top. Can Mitch Thomas change that dynamic tonight?

Colleen Crowder: Probably not. And besides, we need bureaucrats to make our country work.

Johnny Suave: Yeah, we’re going to disagree on that.

*DING-DING*

Riley starts out hot taking down Thomas with a clothesline. But resilient as ever, the American Taxpayer jumped back to his feet in no time and rushes Riley. Thomas gets a little payback with a vertical suplex DDT. Cover. One…tw- Riley kicks out. Riley leverages Thomas into the corner and traps him. He delivers an assortment of high and mid kicks, building up a rhythm while Thomas tries to escape. Melissa does her part to help. Thomas throws a few punches back. After a while, Thomas finally acts as Riley is drawing back his fist to punch. Making his move, Thomas drives his knee into the midsection. He steps away from the turnbuckle and lets Riley stumble back and then double over. Thomas follows up with a back elbow to the face that has the Bureaucrat falling back into the ropes. Thomas blindly rushes in and the two end up going over the ropes and landing on the ground to the outside.

Johnny Suave: Neither man has really taking control of the match so far.

Colleen Crowder: Riley is being a good bureaucrat. He’s letting Thomas get his shots in. But in the end, The Bureaucrat knows how to get things done. I think Riley has Thomas right where he wants him.

The referee begins the count. Riley gets to his feet. So does Thomas. The two begin elbowing one another while heading for the ring to try to get the other out of the way. Thomas charges towards him and runs right into a front kick. Riley goes up top and hits a standing shooting star press to the laid out Thomas. Riley for the win. One…two…NO! The American Taxpayer stays alive. Riley prematurely celebrates and then gets completely caught off guard with a discus elbow smash. Thomas hoists Riley into the air and drives him back to the mat with a spinebuster. But before Thomas makes the cover, Melissa grabs Riley’s arm and pulls him out of the ring. Melissa gives The Bureaucrat more instructions. Once back in the ring, Riley makes a beeline for Thomas. The two begin throwing blows until Riley’s right hand makes Thomas take a step back. Melissa jumps on the ring apron and gets the referee’s attention. Riley reaches into his trunks and discreetly pulls out a foreign object. He walks over to Thomas and flattens him with the loaded right hand.

Colleen Crowder: Told ya.

Johnny Suave: Booooooo.

Riley tosses the foreign object away and pulls Thomas back up. Melissa jumps down. The referee turns in time to see Riley drop Thomas with the Code Red Tape. Cover…One…Two…THREE.

Johnny Suave: Booooooooo!

The crowd agrees.

WINNER: Andrew ‘The Bureaucrat’ Riley @ 4:30

Colleen Crowder: Again, a good bureaucrat knows how to take care of business. That’s what Andrew Riley did.

Johnny Suave: He cheated.

Colleen Crowder: Whatever gets the job done.

Harvey Wilson snatches the foreign object off the floor and shows it to the referee.   The referee is unmoved and raises Riley’s arm in victory. So Wilson wraps his fist around the foreign object and pops Riley in the schnozz.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!

Riley collapses to the mat. Wilson shrugs and drops the foreign object.

Colleen Crowder: That was totally not called for!

Johnny Suave: Oh it totally was.

Colleen Crowder: That shows a complete lack of respect for Andrew ‘The Bureaucrat’ Riley.

Johnny Suave: And now you know how the American Taxpayer feels.

Crowder sputters something as we cut backstage.

BACKSTAGE Paige McGillicutty returns as PCW’s backstage reporter. She has a very angry ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels with her.

VIDEO: Last Week’s Extreme Political TV

PCW Champion ‘The One Man Anti-Hollywood A-List’ Stone Chism beats the holy hell out of Blue Brand Champion ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels backstage.

PCW officials and Blue Brand officials swarm and try to tear the two men apart.

Blair Moise: Johnny, Stone Chism jumped Kevin Daniels as the Blue Brand Champion was backstage with his entourage.

Moise explains that Chism bulldozed his way through and nailed Daniels with a right hand. Both men then started lobbing heavy shots at each other until PCW and the Blue Brand stepped in to quell the strife.

Paige doesn’t even get two words out before Daniels begins to rant about PCW Champion Stone Chism’s attack on him last week. Daniels decries Chism’s ‘cowardly’ attack. He calls PCW backstage security a complete joke.

Kevin Daniels: When someone of importance is at your small time show, you’d think security would be increased to make sure insignificant people…like Stone Chism…can’t get to you.

Daniels vows never to set foot at a PCW show ever again because of the ‘unsafe’ working conditions.

Cut back to Suave and Crowder at the broadcast desk.

Johnny Suave: So, Kevin Daniels is a little upset.

Colleen Crowder: Can you blame him? Kevin Daniels takes time out of his precious schedule to show up at a PCW show and this happens to him?

McGILL MAKES BIG ANNOUNCEMENT Short and sweet. Dawn McGill comes out to the stage.

Dawn McGill: I am pleased to announce to all you…the PCW faithful here in Terre Haute, Indiana…that we are bringing back the PCW Television Title and the PCW Women’s Title.

The crowd applauds.

McGill further explains that the Television and Women’s champions will be determined at next weekend’s shows with the finals to be held Sunday March 10th in Park City, Kansas.

Cut back to Suave and Crowder.

Johnny Suave: Well! This is big news indeed. Things are going good under Dawn McGill’s leadership.

Colleen Crowder: Dawn McGill didn’t build this. The Political Universe did. That’s why she should stay in her lane and get with the program.

Johnny Suave: No. The Political Universe had nothing to do with this. It’s been her hard work…and the blood, sweat, and tears of the wrestlers, and the fans who’ve made this work.

Crowder begins to respond but we cut to a commercial break.

=======================

PCW RANKINGS

PCW Title Champion: The One Man Anti-Hollywood A-List’ Stone Chism #1 Contender: Jack Fraiser #2 Contender: ‘American Citizen’ Kevin Scott #3 Contender: SNAFU #4 Contender: Average Joe

PCW Women’s Title Champion: TBD#1 Contender: TBD #2 Contender: TBD #3 Contender: TBD #4 Contender: TBD

PCW Tag Team Title Champion: Island of Misfit Wrestlers: Rah and Halitosis #1 Contender: The Dork Dynasty: Leonard and Sheldon Robertson #2 Contender: The Beer Bellied Softball Playing Ninja: Hank and Tiny #3 Contender: Truckin’ Average Company: Ken Worth-American Trucker and Brad Company #4 Contender: Rough Justice: D.B. Ruff and Connor Justice

PCW Television Title Champion: TBD#1 Contender: TBD #2 Contender: TBD #3 Contender: TBD #4 Contender: TBD

=======================

VIDEO: 2/17-Extreme Political TV: Scott vs. SNAFU

Scott fireman’s carries but SNAFU slips out the back door. He whips Scott into the ropes and catches an elbow on the return. Scott springboards for the moonsault and hits it. He rolls and snatches SNAFU’s arm.

Johnny Suave: American Stars and Fujiwara Armbar!

Colleen Crowder: NOOOOO!

SNAFU’s in no man’s land and taps. Martin motions to the timekeeper.

*DING-DING-DING*

Johnny Suave: Kevin Scott taps SNAFU out!

BACKSTAGE Paige McGillicutty has ‘American Citizen’ Kevin Scott with her.

Paige references back to the SNAFU match two weeks ago and the comments he made concerning the Progressive Alliance’s Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez regarding stopping Amazon from placing new jobs in New York City.

…Scott can’t believe AOC is celebrating the loss of good paying jobs- especially in the city she (Ocasio-Cortez) lives. He’s sure a lot of her constituents would have benefitted greatly from the increase of jobs in the area.

Kevin Scott: But it doesn’t surprise me- it’s all about politics.

Ocasio-Cortez takes exception to the comments.

Kevin Scott: Socialism is nothing more than forced shared misery…that is, unless you’re one of the gilded few…like Bernie Sanders and his multiple houses…like you and your new digs at the Navy Yards.

The GWO stop celebrating and have their glares directed towards Scott.

Kevin Scott: Yeah, you prevented a billion dollar corporation from getting what they want. And in the process, you hurt ordinary, average Americans in your city who would have given their left nut for the high paying job that’s going to go somewhere else.

Scott mock claps which hacks off the GWO even more.

Kevin Scott (sarcastically): Well done…well done.

Kevin Scott: SNAFU was a tough opponent and Coach E.J. Flack makes him even more formidable of an opponent. As for Ms. Ocasio-Cortez and her Green World Order friends, the less said the better. I’m still convinced a lot of middle class people in New York City would have loved the jobs Amazon was bringing.

Paige changes the topic to tonight’s match with Jack Fraiser.

Kevin Scott: Jack Fraiser is another tough opponent. His Oootlander Blaire Rendell is someone you have to keep an eye on. But my focus is the same. If I win tonight, I’m the number one contender for the PCW title…check. If I then go on to defeat Stone Chism for the title…check. One step at a time.

Scott thanks Paige and heads towards the ring.

Cut back to Suave and Crowder at the broadcast desk.

Johnny Suave: ‘American Citizen’ Kevin Scott looking for PCW gold. Let’s send it Kimber Marshall for our next match.

MATCH #2-PCW TITLE #1 CONTENDER’S MATCH: Jack Fraiser vs. ‘American Citizen’ Kevin ScottKimber Marshall brings out the wrestlers for the next match.

*“Courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue”- Toby Keith*

Kevin Scott- American Citizen– former 2 time PCW Champion and PCW Television Champion (as Starz N. Stripes). PCW’s Original ‘Rookie Sensation.’HT: 6′ 3″ WT: 250, HOME: Ottumwa, IA FIN: American Stars and Fujiawa Arm Bar

Scott comes out in his red, white, and blue wrestling tights. He acknowledges the crowd’s cheers and starts down towards the ring.

The lights go down and the video screen comes to life:

It’s 1946 in the Scottish Highlands.

On the hill of Irish na Dun, British nurse Blaire Rendell hears the tell-tale buzzing sound as she approaches the standing stones. This makes her very happy.]

Blaire Rendell (Scottish accent): Soon, I’ll be back with my true love Jamie and I will be truly happy once again in eighteenth century Scotland.

Blaire goes to the standing stones where the buzzing sound gets louder and louder. Soon she faints and falls to the ground. When she wakes up…

Blaire nearly jumps in the air when she encounters a man dressed in heavy plaid lumberjack shirt, a warm coat, and a tuque.

Blaire Rendell: Wh-who the hell are you?   And where the hell am I?

Jack Fraiser: My name is Jack Fraiser. You are in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan Canada.

Blaire Rendell: Saskatoon…Saskatchewan Canada? That can’t be true. I’m supposed to be in Scotland.

[A hockey puck comes flying by just barely missing both of them.]

Blaire Rendell: What the *BLEEP*!

Jack Fraiser: Nope. This is definitely Canada.

Fraiser takes Rendell by the hand and starts down to ringside.

Jack Fraiser AGE: 24 / HT: 6”3” WT: 205 / HOME: Saskatoon, Saskatchewan FIN: Canadian National Railaway

Both men in the ring now.

Johnny Suave: Winner of the match becomes the new number one contender for the PCW Title!

Colleen Crowder: I’ll root for the Canadian guy. I love the Outlander novels.

Suave reminds Crowder that Fraiser’s valet is actually an Oootlander.

Colleen Crowder: Are you mansplaining to me again?

Johnny Suave: Never mind. The match is underway.

*DING-DING*

Fraiser has a conversation with Rendell before the match begins. Scott gets impatient and swipes at Fraiser. Finally both men are in the ring and circle cautiously. Scott shoots the leg and takes Fraiser down. Fraiser rolls away and says it’s just fine. Collar and elbow tie up. They’re even in strength, but Scott uses his experience to get a leverage advantage. Fraiser reverses into a hammerlock. Scott slips through to headlock and takeover. Fraiser gets the ropebreak and Scott lets go. Fraiser backs off and fans applaud the sportsmanship. Collar and elbow tie. Scott transitions into an arm wringer and then a snap suplex! Cover…one…two…Fraiser kicks out. Scott hits another snap suplex. Fireman’s carry. Death Valley DDT! Cover, one…two…!

Johnny Suave: A nice series of moves by Kevin Scott but Fraiser somehow kicks out!

Colleen Crowder: Jack Fraiser needs to get it in gear. Jamie Fraser wouldn’t be losing like this.

Scott keeps his focus as he drags Fraiser up. Fisherman lift…no…Fraiser lands on the other side of him. Into the ropes…roll up and over…one…two…NO!! Scott survives and hauls Fraiser up quick. Fraiser fights out of an arm bar. Scott drives a knee to the gut. Lift…vertical suplex! Cover…one…two…Fraiser gets the shoulder up. Scott drags Fraiser up again…cradle counter by Fraiser…one…two…NO! Scott escapes at the last second!

Colleen Crowder: That’s more like it! Go Jamie Fraser, go!

Johnny Suave: Um…that’s…(realizes the futility of correcting her)…yeah, never mind.

Now Fraiser in the ascendancy. Big palm strike! And another! Scott retreats. Dropkick by Fraiser. Sunset flip…cover…one…two…AGAIN, Scott gets the shoulder up!

Colleen Crowder: COUNT FASTER!

Johnny Suave: Fraiser has Scott in trouble!

Fraiser sneaks a glance at Blaire Rendell at ringside, grits his teeth, and pushes forward. Scott hits a drop toehold and drops the leg across Fraiser’s back.   Scott sits down on his back to bend Fraiser’s head back but a wave of green hits the ring and dive on him.

Johnny Suave: IT’S THE GREEN WORLD ORDER!

Green World OrderValet: Peta from PETAHT: 5’ 8” WT: 123 / HOME: Los Angeles, CAGreenPeteHT: 5′ 11″ WT: 195 / HOME: Los Angeles, CA FIN: Harpoon (modified spear or gore)‘Extreme Vegan’ Brock Cole Lee HT: 6′ 3″ WT: 192 / HOME: New York City, NY FIN: The JuicerPeaceNick–HT: 5′ 10″ WT: 180 / HOME: Bremerton, WA FIN: Choroform

Peta, GreenPete and Lee triple up on Scott. PeaceNick does not take part in the violence- he actually walks around the ring with a sign decrying the inherent violence in PCW.

Also at ringside, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez. She’s cheering on the GWO’s attack on Scott.

Colleen Crowder: Kevin Scott had it coming.   The message here? Don’t mess with AOC!

The referee calls for the bell.

Johnny Suave: Annnnnnnd?

WINNER BY DISQUALIFICATION/NEW #1 CONTENDER FOR THE PCW TITLE: ‘American Citizen’ Kevin Scott @ 4:57

Colleen Crowder (shocked): WHAT?

Close up on Jack Fraiser. He can’t believe he’s just been disqualified.

Johnny Suave: In a classic case of losing the battle but winning the war. Kevin Scott is the NEW number one contender for the PCW title!

Fraiser and his Oootlander Blaire Rendell climb back into the ring and attack the GWO.

Colleen Crowder: WHAT ARE THEY DOING?

Johnny Suave: The GWO just cost Fraiser a shot at the PCW title! I’d be pissed too.

Colleen Crowder: Sorry Jack! Sometimes you have to make a sacrifice for the greater good!

Johnny Suave: The GWO had no right to make that call at Jack Fraiser’s expense.

Professor McCarthy comes out to the stage directs the rest of his Flock to attack Jack Fraiser and his Oootlander. Professor McCarthy’s Flock (GWO, The Young Jerks: Zenk Cryger, James Idahola, and their screechy, profane valet Anna, Codee Pink, Emily S. List) jump Fraiser and Rendell.

Johnny Suave: IT’S NOW NINE AGAINST THREE!

Colleen Crowder: That’ll teach them a valuable lesson.

Professor McCarthy climbs into the ring. Fraiser and Rendell are laid out on the floor. Codee Pink glitter bombs Scott and he’s blinded. The Flock are now pummeling the living hell out of Scott.

Professor McCarthy: Again, if you’re not with us- you’re against us. If you don’t say what we want you to say- we will shout you down. If you don’t believe what we want you to believe- we will shut you down. If you don’t conform to the politically correct things listed in this book- we will destroy you.

Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez: Or I’ll put you on my list!

Professor McCarthy: Or she’ll put you on her list.

Johnny Suave: List? What list?

Ocasio-Cortez gets on the microphone in the ring.

Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez: I am putting everyone at PCW on notice. Anyone who doesn’t agree with me and who doesn’t support my views…

AOC holds up a clipboard with notebook paper and a pen attached to it.

Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez: …I am putting your name on this list!

Johnny Suave (voiceover): Wait a sec? Wasn’t this done before?

Colleen Crowder (v/o): What?

Johnny Suave (v/o): I could swear that this is been done before.

Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez: So you all had better get with the program. We are in charge now and-

Air raid sirens start going off.

Johnny Suave: WAIT A MINUTE!

Crowder becomes confused.

’Hit Me Like a Bomb’- Third Day

The youngest sister of the Bomb family, Ensen DeAirey-Bomb aka…I-Bomb comes out pulling a wagon with the life size wooden statue of General George S. Patton carved out a hickory tree inside.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP!…It’s the NEW Advocates of the American Military Complex!

Weapons of Mass Destruction II MGR: Ensen DeAirey-Bomb aka…I-BombHT: 5’ 6” WT: 112 / HOME: Alamogordo, NM / FIN: Incendiary Powerbomb Newt Tron Bomb…N-BombHT: 5’ 11” WT: 190 / HOME: Alamogordo, NM / FIN: Silent, But DeadlyFrank Bomb aka…F-Bomb HT: 6’ 2” WT: 200 / HOME: Alamogordo, NM / FIN: F BombSUBGROUP: General George S. Patton (Deceased)

AOC hides behind Professor McCarthy.

Codee Pink charges WMD. I-Bomb kicks her in the gut. Spin. Lift. Incendiary Powerbomb on the floor.

Emily S. List. Kick. Spin. Lift. Incendiary Powerbomb.

Cryger charges F-Bomb. Kick. Spin. Lift. F Bomb.

Idahola charges F-Bomb- kick. Spin. Lift. F-Bomb.

Brock Cole Lee- kick. Spin. Lift. F-Bomb.

GreenPete- kick. Spin. Lift. F-Bomb.

Peta? She hides behind PeaceNick. PeaceNick edges towards the ropes planning his escape.

Newt Tron Bomb then climbs onto the apron and up on the turnbuckle. He turns and faces the crowd. Then he crouches and points his butt towards Professor McCarthy, AOC, PeaceNick, and Peta.

Colleen Crowder: What is he doing?

People in the front rows frantically put gas masks over their faces.

Frank Bomb and Ensen DeAirey-Bomb put on gas masks.

Colleen Crowder: Okay, why is everyone putting gas masks on?

Johnny Suave: Think Halitosis’s breath with a larger blast radius.

Colleen Crowder: Huh? What?

Too late. Suddenly, Professor McCarthy clutches his throat and tries to cover his nose.

Johnny Suave: SILENT BUT DEADLY! SILENT BUT DEADLY! (out of the side of his mouth) Oh…geez. What the hell did he eat earlier?

Colleen Crowder: What? (Then she gets it) Ohhhhhhh……..(THUMP)

Crowder’s head lands on the broadcast desk.

McCarthy, AOC, PeaceNick, Peta- all down and out.

Several people in close proximity to the ring not wearing gas masks- down and out.

Johnny Suave: Newt Tron Bomb clears the ring…(Suave checks on Crowder- she’s down and out)…and our broadcast desk.   I’m sure he, F-Bomb, and I-Bomb will now make Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez’s list of deplorables.

Newt then gets on the microphone. N-Bomb says they’ve been sent to PCW for a purpose.

Newt Tron Bomb: Last week, Dawn McGill cost our brothers a match. We are here for payback for the best tag team that’s ever graced a PCW ring. We are also here to make sure that the Advocates of the American Military Complex continue to have a strong presence in PCW.

Johnny Suave: Oh, they’ve had a ‘strong’ presence here all right.

N-Bomb warns the Island of Misfit Wrestlers…Rah and Halitosis…their days as PCW Tag Team champions are limited.

N-Bomb drops the mic and WMD head to the back.

The PCW clean-up crew head to ringside to revive a few people.

Johnny Suave: While they get the ring cleaned out, we’ll be back after these messages.

=======================

**COMMERCIAL BREAK**

Brought to you by the American Patriots:

[PCW Owner Dawn McGill watches the action on a monitor in her office.]

*KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK*

[She warily gazes at the door. She knows who’s there.]

Dawn McGill: Come in.

[It’s American Patriot Leaders Kevin McCarthy from California and Mitch McConnell from Kentucky.]

Dawn McGill: Kevin. Mitch. What a surprise.

[McCarthy and McConnell approach her desk.]

Dawn McGill: What do you have on your mind?

Kevin McCarthy: Dawn, we’re here to offer you a golden opportunity.

[Dawn knew that already but she humored the pair.]

Dawn McGill: Golden opportunity, you say?

Mitch McConnell: Yes. PCW should come home…to the Red Brand.

[Dawn sits back in her chair.]

Dawn McGill: Come home to the Red Brand.

Kevin McCarthy: That’s right. The American Patriots are the faction of Abraham Lincoln. The Red Brand is the perfect place for you to be.

Dawn McGill: I see. And where would our wrestlers start?

Mitch McConnell: Of course, your wrestlers will have to start at entry level.

Dawn McGill: Entry level?

Mitch McConnell: The pay isn’t great but it’s better than it used to be.

Kevin McCarthy: And we also have some wrestlers who are bankrolled by some of our big corporate supporters. They would have to be pushed ahead of all the newcomers.

Dawn McGill: I’ve heard that.

Mitch McConnell: Plus, there’s the whole corporate branding of the characters that would have to be done.

Dawn McGill: Well, as much as that sounds intriguing (turns facetious)…and it does…I think I’m going to pass.

Kevin McCarthy: I see, you want us to sweeten the deal.

[McCarthy makes a hand gesture that denotes ‘sweetening the deal.’ McGill’s knows what he’s doing and wonders why the hell he’s doing it.]

Kevin McCarthy: Okay, we can throw in advocating lower taxes without demanding reduced spending, laissez faire regulations that favor corporations, health care and wages that again favor big business at the expense of ordinary workers.

Mitch McConnell: Let’s not forget big business trickle down economic policies that also favor large employers and leave middle America behind.

Dawn McGill: Ahh…gotcha.

[Yeah she’s not impressed with them either.]

Dawn McGill: Guys, that’s a really bad deal.

Kevin McCarthy: Ooooh…we’ve got a negotiator here.

Dawn McGill: Um no. I’m not negotiating.

[But yet, the negotiating begins.]

Mitch McConnell: Okay…and I can’t believe I’m saying this…Miss McGill, we’ll even throw in a half assed promise to root out deep state bureaucrats and keep out activist judges who undermine legislate from the bench and thwart the will of the people…

Kevin McCarthy: …while maintaining the status quo for the Washington D.C. beltway elites to continue to prosper while middle America withers on the vine like they have for the past 25 years.

Dawn McGill: Really?

[Dawn’s eyebrows raise.]

Kevin McCarthy: That’s our final offer.

[Dawn’s cell phone rings.]

Dawn McGill: Um, no. If you’ll excuse me.

[She answers her phone.]

Dawn McGill: Hello?

[Dawn becomes alarmed.]

Dawn McGill: WHAT? (pause) I’ll be right there.

(She ends the call.)

Dawn McGill: Sorry guys…duty calls.

[Dawn sprints out of the office and slams the door behind her.]

Kevin McCarthy: Ah, the old pretend an emergency has come up and shut the door in our face trick!

=======================

PCW ON THE ROADMarch 8th – United Wireless Center / Dodge City, KS March 9th – Tony’s Pizza Events Center / Salina, KS March 10th – Hartman Arena / Park City, KS March 16th – Jamestown Civic Center / Jamestown, SD March 22nd – Silverstein Eye Centers Arena / Independence, MO March 23rd – Qwest Center Omaha / Omaha, NE March 24th – Sanford Pentagon / Sioux Falls, SD March 30th – Taft Coliseum / Columbus, OH March 31st – Mayo Civic Center / Rochester, MN April 6th – Loose Cannons Unleashed PPV @ the D.C. Armory / Washington, D.C.

========================

Cut back to Suave at the broadcast desk.

Suave informs everyone that the ring’s been cleared and everyone’s okay.

Johnny Suave: Without further ado, let’s go to Kimber Marshall in the ring for our main event.

MAIN EVENT/NON-TITLE MATCH: PCW Champion ‘The One Man Anti-Hollywood A-List’ Stone Chism vs. Jack from State Barn Insurance Kimber introduces Jack from State Barn Insurance who’s already in the ring dressed in his bright red polo shirt and khaki pants.

Then…

*‘No Smoke Without a Fire’ – Bad Company*

Johnny Suave: Here comes the PCW Champion!

‘The One Man Anti-Hollywood A-List’ Stone Chism–former PCW Champion and 2 time PCW Television ChampionHT: 6′ 2″ WT: 225 / HOME: Hollywood, CA FIN:  Anti-Hollywood Blockbuster

Chism comes out to the stage holding up the PCW Title belt.

Johnny Suave: So, with Kevin Scott’s win earlier tonight, the Chism vs. Scott showdown for the title is definitely in the horizon.

Chism decides to talk first before going to the ring. He says Stone Chism is the PCW champion in spite of all the Hollywood folks no longer supporting him! He gets that the Progressive Alliance wanted Chism to lose to ‘Mr. Hollywood’ Kevin Daniels…so to put the icing on the cake, to get rid of all the doubt, and to stick to them again- Chism defeated Daniels, again.

Stone Chism: The Progressive Alliance probably has it in their minds that I can’t beat their big wrestlers…the Ultimate Social Justice Warrior, The Massachusetts Bluebloods Jay F. Kennedy and Ray F. Kennedy, or Bobby Dahlman. I’m sure the American Patriots think Kirk Walstreit, Charlie Blackwell, or even Magnum PO’d can beat me. And now, here in PCW it’s Kevin Scott who thinks he can beat me. Kevin Scott is good. Kevin Scott is really good.

Chism shrugs. Chism says Scott’s wrong and they’re all wrong- he can beat them all and he’s going to prove it starting tonight with Jack- from State Barn Insurance. Chism drops the mic and raises the title. Then he starts walking towards the ring.

Then out of nowhere, three men hit the ring and blow up Jack from State Barn Insurance.

Confused, Chism stops in his tracks and looks around.

Johnny Suave: What the hell? Who are those three men?

Suave realizes who they’re wrestling for when Phil Finebaum and then ‘Sports Entertainment Genius’ Mr. McMann come out.

McMann takes the microphone.

Mr. McMann: Ladies and gentlemen of PCW. The house has been swept. New blood has been brought in. Please welcome the new and improved Sports Entertainment Coalition.

Sports Entertainment Coalition‘Redneck’ Bill Dickinson “The 330 Pound Southern Brawler”AGE: 37 / HT: 6′ 1″  WT: 330 / HOME: Troy, AL FIN: High Crossbody into a Powerbomb‘Dastardly’ Dave MillerAGE: 28 / HT: 6’ 0” WT: 240 / HOME: Columbus, GA FIN: Southern Cross‘Dangerous’ Dan WilliamsAGE: 42 / HT: 6’ 2” WT: 252 / HOME: Wemberly, TX FIN: Devil’s Triangle (Triangle Choke)

McMann states Dickinson is gunning for the PCW title. Miller and Williams have their eye on the tag belts. He has a special message for Jill Berg Enterprises, though.

Mr. McMann: I haven’t forgotten about you. I haven’t forgotten about Charlie Blackwell either. But right now, you all seem to have forgotten the fact that the SEC is the pre-eminent faction in PCW.

Phil Finebaum: My faction is better than your faction and the SEC is the best of the best. That’s why Dickinson, Miller, and Williams were brought in. That’s why soon, the SEC will control the two biggest belts in PCW.

Male Voice: And I certainly haven’t forgotten about you.

Suave is shocked at who he sees.

Johnny Suave: HOLY CRAP! HE’S BACK!

William Daniels Bryan– ‘The Prairie Populist’-3 time PCW Champion. Former PCW Television Champion HT: 5’10″ WT: 180, HOME: Platte, Nebraska FIN: Cattle Mutilation/Crane Kick

Johnny Suave: William Daniels Bryan has been out since mid-October of 2018. That’s when the Antifa broke his leg at a house show in Rolla, Missouri and put him out of commission.

Suave adds that no one has seen or heard anything from Bryan in a few weeks.

Johnny Suave: We knew he was working hard to get back. He looks fantastic.

On the stage, Bryan looks tanned and rested.

Johnny Suave: The title race may have just been turned completely upside down with the addition of ‘Redneck’ Bill Dickinson and the return of William Daniels Bryan to the mix. We are out of time. That’s all for tonight’s show. I’m Johnny Suave. See you next week.

[sophie-zadeh]

Prince Andrew Epstein Scandal Interview: Body Language and Statement Analysis

When Husband (Lee) asked me recently whether I’d be analysing Prince Andrew’s body language, I said, I couldn’t because I’ve been time-poor, organising our new workshops/events in January–be sure to check them out if you’re in Perth, Australia. Next thing, Lee was analyzing it for me! Thank you Husband ❤️.

Lee learned everything about nonverbal communication through me and I have to say, he’s great at it. I’m not taking credit for this, because it’s easy to learn—the hardest part is in learning to observe and in practise, without that, the knowledge goes nowhere.

Lee claims I’m better, but there are some things he picks up on and I don’t—and vice versa. I tend to focus on the face, while Lee focuses on the body. It’s impossible to focus on both the body and face together, therefore, together we make a killer team!

He analysed over 40 minutes, and found so many red flags it was jaw-dropping! I’m going to select the bits that are the most significant, otherwise, I’ll be writing and you’ll be reading forever. Here’s the video…

Prince Andrew & the Epstein Scandal: The Newsnight Interview - BBC News

As I look through Lee’s giant list of red flags, there are many behaviours which come up in the interview over and over again, so I’ll start by listing these nonverbal behaviours and their meanings.

Common Nonverbal Behaviours and their Meanings

Eyelid Flutter

A sign of high cognitive load, which usually comes with overwhelming emotion and/or stress. It’s an ‘oh my gosh!’ or ‘wtf’ moment, usually seen when somebody is struggling to gather their thoughts or find the right words. When you see this, know that the brain is in turmoil, the person is struggling. It’s an involuntary reaction, so seeing this shows genuine emotion–it can’t be concealed.

Incongruent Head Shake or Nod

Any behaviour which shows an incongruence with spoken words is significant and points towards deception. However, a head shake can be misleading, because sometimes it reflects the person's thoughts, which could be different from what they are answering. This sounds confusing, I’ll give you an example… A head shake is common when talking about something traumatic, but while saying something affirmative. This comes from disbelief of the situation. As an example, Kellie from The Thank You Project says, “His dad loved him so much”, while shaking her head. The head shaking stemming from disbelief at what happened (husband died instantly in a car accident), as opposed to her being deceptive. It’s very common to see a disbelief headshake while people say something affirmative, so we need to be careful not to always assume deception.

There can be cultural differences with head shaking and nodding too, although, there is some evidence that bonobos, our close relatives, shake their heads to communicate negative, suggesting it could be universal. 

Eye Block

An eye block shows dislike–we want whatever the source of dislike is, to disappear, so we close our eyes momentarily. It looks like a long blink. When young children are faced with something they dislike, often they cover their eyes with their hands. This is an innate behaviour that even congenitally blind children display (children who are born blind). As children grow up they learn to conceal their emotions, modifying behaviours to fit in with social norms. So by the time we are adults, the behaviour has adapted to a more discrete behaviour, less likely to give away our true emotion.

Shoulder Shrug

These are involuntary so represent genuine emotion.

Double Shoulder Shrug (both shoulders)

This means the person has confidence or believes in what they are saying, pointing towards the truth–or what they believe to be the truth.

Single Shoulder Shrug (one shoulder)

This means the person isn’t so confident in what they are saying, pointing towards deception. But it’s not always significant. Significance depends on what the person is talking about when they use it. For example, it can be present when someone is giving a statistic which has been rounded up/down, so it isn’t exact, not quite the truth, but it’s easier to remember or say. Often we see this when for whatever reason there is additional information to give, but it’s not the right time to say it. An example is when someone has limited time and needs to get the gist across–there’s more too it, but they need to take a short cut.

Prince Andrew Body Language & Statement Analysis

1:04

Eyelid flutter, while explaining he met Epstein through Epstein’s girlfriend in 1999. Although not significant in the grand scheme of things, my concern here is that something is not right for him to have such a reaction–remember this is emotional turmoil/high cognitive load. We have to ask ourselves—Why could explaining how he met Epstein or mentioning Ghislaine Maxwell (Epstein’s girlfriend, British socialite and daughter of publishing tycoon and fraudster Robert Maxwell) create such a reaction?

I have a feeling there is more going on here surrounding Prince Andrew’s relationship with Epstein’s girlfriend. What’s interesting is he also shakes his head when he says, “I’ve known her since she was at university in the UK”. Perhaps this isn’t a truthful statement and he knew her before this. Maybe there’s something surrounding Prince Andrew’s relationship with Ghislaine Maxwell, that if known, would cause another scandal. 🧐

2:45

Incongruent headshake, as he states “… but then after I got married I was very happy”. Followed by a single shoulder shrug (not confident in his statement) as he says, “I’ve never really felt the need to go party”. There are more eyelid flutters here too.

5:05

Note, at this point, Prince Andrew’s thumbs are up in a steepling position, indicating positive emotion and wisdom.

Emily Maitlis

“We now know, that he was and had been procuring young girls for sex trafficking.”

Prince Andrew’s thumbs withdraw (dislike/discomfort) and his fingers interlock, indicating negative emotion and heightened stress. His head moves backwards slightly, a distancing behaviour. He’s not comfortable with the statement and wants to distance from it psychologically. His blink rate increases and he licks his lips, two more indicators of stress.

Prince Andrew

“We now know that. At the time there was no indication (congruent head shake) to me (emphasis on words ‘to me’, short eyelid flutter, pause), or anybody else (eyelid flutter), that that was what he was doing.”

What’s interesting here from a statement analysis perspective, is that that he specifies there was no indication “to me”, pausing before following with, “or anybody else”.

If it was going on somebody must have had an indication of it—all of those involved for starters, therefore, “or anybody else” is a deceptive statement full stop.

The fact that he states “to me” indicates there is another option (“anybody else”) in his mind when he said, “to me”. An honest statement would sound more like “there was no indication that that was what he was doing”. Typically, when people are being honest, they usually take the shortest route to say it.

“And certainly (eyelid flutter), when I saw him either in the United States (pause, false start), or no, when I saw him in the United States ( 🚩 corrects himself), or when I was staying in his houses in the United States (eyelid flutter), there was no indication, absolutely no indication” (eye block/dislike 🚩).”

Notice he specifically references the US alone. What’s interesting is the photograph of Prince Andrew with the accuser was taken in Ghislaine Maxwell’s townhouse in London. It’s also interesting that he specifically mentions, “in his houses in the US”. His first statement, “in the United States” should cover Epstein’s houses, without having to mention houses specifically.

Also note, after his first statement, “when I saw him either in the United States”, Prince Andrew corrects himself, without the ‘either’ or reference to other places. There are plenty of red flags here, he’s being picky about where there ‘was no indication’, suggesting things were going on in some locations, outside the US or Epstein’s homes.

“And if there was (gulp, pause, change in speech direction/false start 🚩). You have to remember that at the time (steepling thumbs/hands), I was Patron of the NSPCC’s Full Stop campaign ( 🚩qualifying statement so we think more highly of him/have more trust) and was close up 🚩with what was going on in those, um, ah, (slight change in direction) time about getting rid of abuse to, to children, so I knew what was (🚩 false start), what the things were to look for but I never saw them.”

“And if there was”, suggests an alternative was in Prince Andrew’s mind. This is a huge red flag. He’s suggesting there could have been an indication that something was going on, even though he has just said there wasn’t. What was he going to say next, before he changed his direction in speech to cover up, whilst throwing in a qualifying statement?

I can’t ignore that, “close up” seems wrong here. Typically we’d hear “I was well up”, “I was knowledgable” or “I knew”. Was, “close up” used becasue he was involved?

There are a number of red flags within the statements we’ve just looked at. Prince Andrew is making an attempt to be very careful about how he says things. How many of these false starts are him being careful about phraseology and how many are slips of the tongue. When people are experiencing high levels of stress and a high cognitive load (as indicated by a large number of eyelid flutters), they are more likely to slip up. There is simply not enough capacity left to think clearly.

I should add that the overriding emotional expression is fear, as seen in the activation of the upper eyelids. As a result, we see more of the whites of his eyes. There are also twitches in his mouth at times indicating fear, in which the mouth stretches outwards at the sides, both, when closed and when talking.

6:16

Emily Maitlis

“Just for the record, you’ve been on his private plane”

Emily Maitlis

“you’ve been to stay on his private island”

Prince Andrew

“Yes” (eyelid flutter and eye block 🚩)

Emily Maitlis

“You’ve stayed at his home in Palm Beach?”

Prince Andrew

“Yes”

Emily Maitlis

“You’ve visited Ghislaine Maxwell’s house in Belgravia in London ?”

Prince Andrew

“Yes” (significant eyelid flutter 🚩)

Epstein’s private Island and Ghislaine Maxwell’s house in London are the two, out of four, places mentioned, where Prince Andrew has significant involuntary nonverbal reactions. Good on you Emily for mentioning these places one by one. And thanks Prince Andrew for enlightening us as to where we should dig deeper to seek the truth. That said, there is already photographic evidence of Prince Andrew and his accuser at Ghislaine Maxwell’s house in London.

7:10

Emily Maitlis

“He never discussed with you the fact that an arrest warrant had been issued?”

Prince Andrew

“No”

As Prince Andrew says, “No”, his cluster of nonverbal behaviours are almost comical. I’m tempted to say this is an outright lie, but to stay true to what I always say—that nonverbal behaviour can only guide us to the truth, without directly indicating a lie—I can’t say it!

We see a series of eyelid flutters in between an extreme high blink rate (stress indicator) and an exaggerated head shake—Prince Andrew’s deliberate attempt to signal, “No”.

We also see a movement in his mouth, which I suspect is a self-soothing/pacifying gesture, ironically, his tongue in cheek (right cheek)—if it isn’t his tongue, he’s biting on his cheek.

8:17

Emily Maitlis

“He was released in July, within months, by December 2010, you went to stay with him at his New York mansion. Why? Why were you staying with a convicted sex offender?”

Prince Andrew’s tongue juts out momentarily as Emily Maitlis says, “New York mansion”. This is distinct from a lip lick (a stress indicator). A tongue jut is seen when we make a mistake or slip up, or when we think we’ve got away with something. I’m guessing the former in this case.

As she finishes her question, Prince Andrew’s head moves back once again, as he physically and psychologically distances from the question.

Prince Andrew

“Right. I have always, er (false start), ever since this has happened (eye blocking and gesturing as if to go back), and since this has become, um, as it were public knowledge that I was there, I have questioned myself as to why did I go and what was I doing and was it the right thing to do (microexpression of contempt).”

Hang on–stop right there! Prince Andrew just specified he’s questioned himself whether it was the right thing to do “since this has become… public knowledge”. I would expect anyone to question whether it was the right thing to do, regardless of whether it was public knowledge or not. The fact that he specifically states, “since this has become public knowledge”, is very telling. This is especially the case for ‘a person’ (that’s me using distancing language) that is in such a position of power and privilege—whose existence is funded by taxpayers money. Is my anger showing?

“Now I went there with the sole purpose of saying to him, that because he had been convicted, it was inappropriate for us to be seen together”

Again, stop right there—“inappropriate for us to be seen together”! Really? No other reason than the public shouldn’t see them together? Nothing about Epstein doing the wrong thing and not wanting to be a part of that?

Prince Andrew can step out of his shoes, with the awareness of how the public would view this, but doesn’t seem to view Epstein’s behaviour as being out of order. If his moral standards are on par with Epstein’s, it’s more likely he’d indulge in the same behaviours.

10:05

Emily Maitlis

“What did he say when you told him that you were breaking up the friendship?”

Prince Andrew

Eyelid flutter.

“He was what I would describe as understanding. Erm, he didn’t go into any great depth (single shoulder shrug/not confident in what he’s saying 🚩), um, in the conversation about what I was doing, what he was doing (corrects himself 🚩).”

That’s an interesting verbal slip! What were you doing Prince Andrew?

“Um, except to say that, that, er, (incongruent head shake), er, he’d accepted whatever it was—a plea bargain he’d served his time, um, and, er, he was carrying on with his life. Excuse me. And I said yes, but I’m afraid to say that, that, that, that, that’s as, may be, um, but with all the attendant scrutiny on me, then I don’t think it is a wise thing to do.

This reaffirms his earlier statement, that his sole concern was how it would make him look.

12:38

Prince Andrew

“I, I admit fully that, that, that my judgement was probably coloured by my, erm, tendency to be too honourable, but that’s (single shoulder shrug 🚩 ) just the way it is.”

The single shoulder shrug, says it all! 😂

12:38

Prince Andrew

“You have to understand that, that, that, his house, I, I described it more as a, a, almost as a railway station, if you know what I mean, in a sense that there were people coming in and out of that house all the time. Erm, what they were doing and why they were there, I had nothing to do with, so I’m afraid I can’t make any comment (single shoulder shrug 🚩) on that because I really don’t know (facial expression of contempt).”

The single shoulder shrug on, “I can’t make any comment”! Prince Andrew, your nonverbals are giving you away, please tell us what you know.

23:20

Emily Maitlis

“She provided a photo of the two of you together, your arm was around her waist. You’ve seen the photo?”

Prince Andrew

“I’ve seen the photograph” (eye block)

He doesn’t like the photo.

Emily Maitlis

“How do you explain that?”

Prince Andrew

“I can’t. Because (single shoulder shrug 🚩, eyelid flutter), I don’t, I have no, again (single shoulder shrug 🚩) I have absolutely no memory of that photograph ever been taken (expression of contempt and wringing hands/stress indicator).”

I love it when I see a ‘shrugger’, becasue their shoulders give away so much. Nonverbals are speaking loudly.

31:11

Emily Maitlis

“So, if Virginia Roberts (accuser) is watching this interview, what is your message to her?”

Prince Andrew

“I don’t have a message for her (eyelid flutter), because (single shoulder shrug 🚩, eye block) I have to have a thick skin. If somebody is (eyelid flutters) going to make those sorts of allegations, then (single shoulder shrug 🚩, eye block) I’ve just got to have a thick skin and get on with it (incongruent head shake). But, they never happened (microexpression of contempt).”

36:28

Emily Maitlis

“You seem utterly convinced you’re telling the truth. Would you be willing to testify or give a statement under oath, if you were asked?”

Prince Andrew

“Well I’m like anybody else (ongoing incongruent head shake), I’d have to take all the legal advice, erm, that there was (wrong tense) before I was to do that sort of thing (distancing language), but if push came to shove and the legal (audibly loud, sudden cough 🚩), legal advice was to do so, then I would be duty-bound to do so.”

Prince Andrew slips into the wrong tense here, “I’d have to take all the legal advice that there was”, instead of ‘is’, then continues in the wrong tense. When people are being deceptive, tenses are often mixed up. I’m guessing here he has already taken legal advice, it makes sense that he would have. Perhaps that advice has been he would need to do so–it just hasn’t come to push and shove as yet.

If you’d already seen the interview, what was your gut feeling at the time? Did you get the impression Prince Andrew was being deceptive? And did you consciously notice anything in particular that led you to that conclusion?

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[magicmenageriestuff]

3am Eternal (Live at the S.S.L.) – The K.L.F.

( The Ancients of Mu Mu )

*

Alien 3  –  Paranoia In Pinewood part 2

The six stages of Film Production : as seen carved into the wall in Pinewood, Studio Five, by someone presumably better-versed in the industry than I :

Wild enthusiasm

Disillusionment

Panic

Search For The Guilty

Punish The Innocent

Reward The Non-Involved 

The above quote from the diary I kept in 1991 while filming Alien 3 in Pinewood Studios.  I released it into the atmosphere as My Pop Life #171 – Praying For Time.  I think it’s time for part 2, don’t you?

*

Somebody send me a clean version of this picture.  thanks.

Things settled down a little after the heart-thumping and deeply paranoid first month recorded in the previous episode.  No one was sacked.  I don’t think.  No one was re-cast.  There was a terrible accident one day when Sigourney’s make-up lady Linda was standing in a doorway on set – one of those science fiction doorways with a sliding panel which goes up and down with a swish.  It was a wooden contraption with a weighted pulley which failed, and it came down suddenly onto her face, right onto her nose. I wasn’t there but it was a nasty accident and she was rushed to hospital.  We never saw Linda again. Later I learned that she didn’t want to claim the medical expenses from the company, but having had a facial reconstruction and various operations I think that she eventually did settle.  Dangerous places film sets.

The cast of Alien 3 with David Fincher on set, 1991

My relationship with Sigourney had subsided into a kind of sulk, and although she would make the odd remark, the earlier fire and brimstone had calmed down a bit.  Not that we’d made up at all.  Sadly we weren’t friends.  I’d confided in other cast members – Niall Buggy thought I was completely bonkers “What are you talking about Ralph, she’s lovely!”  Pete Postlethwaite and Phil Davis felt the same way.  Dhobi Oparei too.  I was happy that they were enjoying working with her, but just as I started feeling cornered, there was Charles Dance asking me how it was all going as we waited for a set-up.  I think I was tentative at first but eventually told him what had been going on.  He confessed that he’d had the same kind of experience. “Is that how you’re going to say it?” and all of the paranoia about how clean he looked, other competitive nonsense.  I felt relieved that I wasn’t going totally mad.  It was only people she had scenes with where the behaviour occurred.  Wait – was Charles Dutton also having this relationship with her?  No.  He was a friend already and he was not the enemy.  Charlie and I have been firm friends ever since.

Charles Dance as Clemens

One day on set Sigourney and I had a scene on a balcony, after the fire. Men had died.  The Alien was trapped, locked in a loading bay. Dutton and his men were praying below us.  The scene wasn’t going well.  But we got it at around 8.00pm and Fincher pulled me aside.  “Dude.  She vampired that scene. Don’t worry I can cut around what you did, we got it.  But you’re letting her get to you.”  I think I said that I was trying to stand my ground.  “If you ever need to leave the set, take five minutes, regain your centre, just say it OK?  I got your back.”  It was another welcome acknowledgement that I wasn’t paranoid.  I went home, cuddled my lady and gritted my teeth for the long haul.  I had to try and protect my performance at the end of the day, that was what mattered.

the balcony scene is in the “director’s cut” on the DVD

As the weeks progressed, all of the actors were called in every day, in case we were needed.  First thing – put through ‘the works’ – costume and make-up – and then sat in our dressing rooms to await the call, often all day.  I often went into the next-door dressing room occupied by the Prison Governor, my boss the legend Brian Glover, who’d memorably played the gym teacher in Ken Loach‘s heartbreaking film Kes.  Brian was from Barnsley and did the voice overs for Tetley Tea Bags : ‘Tetley. Make tea bags. Make Tea.‘

Brian Glover as Andrews

Brian regaled me with stories from his days as a professional wrestler, fighting on the circuit with Giant Haystacks, Big Daddy and Mick McManus. ‘There’s money in ugly Ralph‘ he would announce, his squashed ear a keepsake of his years playing rugby.  Every 45 minutes the lovely 2nd AD Marcia Gay would knock and pop her head around the door – ‘Gentlemen. You won’t be required for the next 45 minutes. Just relax‘.  This became alarmingly irritating until one day Brian swivelled his giant head in her direction and asked ‘Is the money the same?‘  Marcia was puzzled.  ‘Yes‘ she said. ‘Well Fook Off Then!‘ shouted Brian.  Rude and fucking funny.

Fincher on the camera with Alex Thomson alongside him who had taken over as DP when Jordan Cronenweth was too ill to continue

There were eventually four units running at the same time – 1st Unit with David Fincher directing and another legend Chris Carreras as 1st AD.  The eye of any storm, the 1st AD basically runs the set, oversees all of the departments and keeps a keen eye on who is slowing the unit down.  The 1st AD is basically making the film.  Chris had an amazingly calm temperament but I saw him biting his tongue a couple of times.  Years later in 1999 I would contact him and ask him to 1st AD my film New Year’s Day, which he graciously agreed to do.  Without him it wouldn’t have got made. I was going to create a link there to the blog where I talk about the film that I wrote and which actually got made.  So scarred am I from this experience that 220 blog posts later I haven’t even started to think about discussing it.  Watch this space !

Paul McGann as Golic

Meanwhile back in Pinewood, the other 3 units which might or might not need actors for any given day were :  2nd Unit with Martin Brierly directing (and Nick Heckstall-Smith assisting, whom I would also work with later), Action Unit doing Alien Stuff and other SFX, and a Fire Unit which set fire to things and put them out while stunt guys ran around with falmes one their clothes.   We were all required, at one point or another, on all of these units.  But there were interminable days when nothing happened.  Backgammon became institutionalised, with American actors Chris Fields and particularly Holt McCallany relieving us of our wages on a regular basis with ruthless use of the doubling dice. I soon saw the error of this form of time-wasting, likewise poker and other competitive pursuits. 

Clive Mantle as William, Peter Guinness as Gregor

One day when it was clear once again that nothing was going to happen a group of us decided to wander around the studio lot and see what else was going on.  Like a bunch of escaped prisoners escorted by a correction facility officer.  That was me.  We went into one of the bigger studio buildings (Alien 3 had the majority but some were still available for hire) – I can’t remember precisely who was in that gang but I think Peter Guinness, Paul Brennan, Clive Mantle and Danny Webb certainly were. Maybe Niall Buggy and Vincenzo Nicoli too.  And there was a giant pyramid structure with lights on frames around it and people with cloaks wandering about.  We’d asked permission to visit of course, and the producers knew who we were, what we were doing there.  The band was The K.L.F. and they were shooting a video for their single 3am Eternal which had been at Number 1 in the charts that January.  A video it turned out, for the US market. We watched a take with smoke and lights, bleeps and heavy metal guitar chords, acid house beats and rap, capes and cloaks. It was all a bit mental.  Then they took a break.

We wandered into the next studio through a heavy door.  And there was Kylie Minogue, dressed for the Shocked video. We were all introduced and I became suddenly aware of a tiny elfin Australian blonde woman being dwarfed by half a dozen dirty shaven-headed prisoners from outer space.  She shook everyone’s hand then gently wandered away and asked one of her people if they could ask us politely to leave.  Which we did.  Poor love.

Kylie Minogue is Shocked at the power of love in 1991

There’s a curious link here because Bill Drummond, (who with Jimmy Cauty is The K.L.F.) had worked as an A&R man for WEA (now Warners) in London in the mid-80s and had apparently spent half a million pounds on a band called Brilliant who never quite took off.  Stock Aitken & Waterman were writers & producers for Brilliant, and Jimmy Cauty was in the band along with Martin Glover aka Youth from Killing Joke.  And Stock Aitken & Waterman were now writing and producing for Kylie, along with a vast stable of acts including Donna Summer, Mel & Kim and Jason Donovan.  Kylie & Jason had starred together in Aussie soap Neighbours, and to continue the odd waltz between the 2 acts, the K.L.F. had made a single called ‘Kylie Said To Jason‘ which was a hilarious rip-off of ‘Left To My Own Devices‘ by The Pet Shop Boys.  Confused Yet ??

Bill Drummond & Jimmy Cauty

I didn’t make any of these connections at the time.  I was listening to George Michael, Public Enemy, The Breeders. Catching up with Bob Marley and Miles Davis.  Discovering Wagner – again.  Looming on the horizon was Massive Attack. The K.L.F. seemed to me a little like The Tubes, one of my favourite bands to be sure, or the Bonzo Dog Band (see My Pop Life #77), formed by musicians who wanted to lampoon the music and the industry and anything else they could gather into their fiendish net.  Like everything was in quotes. I mean who sang along with the phrase “Ancients of MuMu” without a silly grin on their face?

And of course we were still recovering from the smiley-face rave culture moment from which the K.L.F. appeared to have emerged.  In fact they were rather more like a situationist art project that wanted to burn the whole thing down.  Anarchists.  Their career was inspired partly by the theatre show The Illuminatus Trilogy, written and directed by mad genius Ken Campbell in Liverpool where Bill had been the set designer.  He walked out one day to buy a sandwich and never came back. Later he formed his Pop Group who became The Timelords with big novelty hit Doctoring The Tardis, then The JAMS (Justified Ancients of MuMu) with the single What Time Is Love which got re-issued a number of times from 1988 onward, then The K.L.F.  Their brilliant warped career  peaked a year later in 1992 at the BRIT Awards when Drummond machine-gunned the audience of music industry execs from the stage, and a dead sheep was left at the door of the afterparty with the message “I died for you – bon appetit” attached. A few months later in May 1992 The K.L.F. announced that they had quit the music business and deleted their entire back catalogue.  Other stunts followed such as the infamous burning of a million pounds, the Soup Line, the 17 Choir and other innovative ideas.  Apparently Bill Drummond lived just down the hill from me when I was in Brighton but I never met him, I don’t think.

Niall Buggy as Eric, Danny Webb as Morse

Back on the Alien3 set a few days later it was Valentine’s Day.  I had been sent a card and an AD delivered it to me as we relaxed between shots.  It was of course from Jenny my beloved.  We were not married at that point.  And I could swear Sigourney was looking over my shoulder to see who it was from.  Hahaha.  Fincher was shooting a lot of footage.  “I’m doing long pans & track so they can’t cut into my footage” he explained one day.  It meant that when we had a group scene we could open a book on how many takes it would be.  Anything under five was unpopular.  Over twelve was possible, common even.  I think we did a tenner per set-up.  Someone wrote the names down and the number they’d chosen.  Often no one would win because we went up to Take 17 and no one wanted to put ten of your earth pounds on that.

Here’s an idea…

In fact Sigourney and I had one of our scenes discussing plans regarding telling the company their was an Alien on the planet, and playing a fella who wanted to go home to his wife and kids, rather than perish in some millennial cult group suicide, Aaron ’85’ suggested a plan.  Ripley’s response was tentatively ‘yes maybe‘.  We did a couple of wide shots, then into my single.  Can’t remember how many takes it was – probably around seven or eight.  Then turned round onto Sigourney.  David didn’t like her tone, which suggested that Ripley thought Aaron was a dick.  He didn’t think that was right at that point in the story.  So. One more.  Turn over. Sound Speed. Scene 178 take 17.  Mark it. And….Action! Blah blah blah.  Cut.  Same result.  He’s not your enemy.  Take 22.  Don’t sneer. Take 29.  You think it’s a good idea. Take 34. By which time we were all so exhausted and dizzy from the repetition that Sigourney said the line in a kind of dazed acquiescence and Fincher had the take he wanted.

About a year later in Los Angeles, after the re-shoots, I had two days of ADR in a West LA studio on Olympic Boulevard.  David remembered the scene well, 34 takes.  He’d never done ADR before though – Automated Dialogue Replacement – where you can change the inflexion, emphasis, tone, shade and meaning of a line just by using your voice and matching the lip movements on screen in front of you precisely.  Movie magic.  Some actors hate it, I made friends with the process very early on after I had to voice the whole of my performance as Danny in Withnail & I for the US market. The test screenings had indicated that audience members couldn’t understand what he was saying.  Who could? I did that piece of work at Twickenham Studios in 1987 where the engineer consoled me having to re-do my entire performance at the same speed except more intelligibly by telling me that Michael Caine had done Alfie and Bob Hoskins had also done The Long Good Friday for America.  And yet we were expected to understand Stallone’s mumbles or Pacino’s – hey that’s what it means to be an outlying part of The Empire right?  I can’t remember if I’ve ever seen the US version of Withnail but I suspect it would be a bad idea.  But having said that the experience toughened me up for future sessions.  Especially the Alien 3 session which was two long days – the reason for that was the amount of atmospheric smoke and steam in the design of the film which was very noisy to produce.  Often back in the day on big movies the Sound Department knew that they were recording a guide track only, to be completed and polished in ADR.  So here we were down on W. Olympic and David says – if I’d known about ADR in Pinewood I would never have done 34 takes just for a vocal inflection…

It’s hard to recall now in 2019 how difficult that experience was.  Jenny can remember quite clearly how I would come home every day, full of doubt, full of worry and anguish, just because I was trying to do my best work.  What a fantastic opportunity for me, but you know I was running fast just to stand still.   I remember a visual image I used to produce while trying to explain it to friends, as a learning curve which came from my chest, looped back over my head and stabbed me in the back.  I wondered if, at some point, whether the fact that we were making a horror film in space meant that we had to have a horrible experience in space.  I called Richard E. Grant one day who was shooting Hudson Hawk in Italy – another picnic – and he asked me how much I was getting. I told him. He said

“well – that’s the amount of shit you have to eat then.”

I could almost understand why Bill Drummond had formed The K.L.F.

  My Pop Life #220 : 3am Eternal (Live at the S.S.L.) – The K.L.F. 3am Eternal (Live at the S.S.L.) - The K.L.F. ( The Ancients of Mu Mu )