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The car shudders forward,
The boom box comes out
And their feet stomp twice.
They feel the frowns and phones
And fly right past.
A river above them
And the pressure in the car,
The people who dance underwater
Can't have anything
They don't ask for.
My date with Jojo went really well. We threw a frisbee around out on the plains and just talked. She's such a sweet woman, and I know all the drama in the house means she has a lot to think about when it comes to love, but I hope in her heart she knows that I care about her. A lot of these other guys are just in it for the fame.
On the way back to the house she put her head on my shoulder.
"I just hope I can still find love," she said quietly.
"You will." I moved her hair behind her ear. "I have." How smooth is that? Robby's got nothing on me.
"You think I'll still get engaged even with Chad hunting the rest of you down one by one?" she asked, looking up at me hopefully.
"Definitely." I said, and I was going to kiss her but right then we both heard a gruff chuckle from the underbrush. I pulled out a date gun, but there was no sign of Chad.
"I know you're there, Chad!" I yelled while spinning in a circle, the gun level in my steady hands. "I love Jojo and you're not going to change that just by killing me like an animal!"
I was trying to be brave in front of Jojo but all I could think about was Daniel struggling while Chad drowned him in the pool. Daniel's hands gripping Chad's well-defined, hairy forearms while the rest of us looked on. Chad had been grinning the whole time.
Daniel loved that pool.
"It's getting dark," Jojo pointed to the sun which was only a little above the horizon. "We better get back to the others."
Overall, 7/10 on the date.
(Break)
James Taylor disappeared.
He said he was just going to do a lap around the house to get some fresh air and he'd be back in a second but he never came back. His nose was still healing from Chad's first outburst, too.
Jordan whined his little ass off about how James was "just trying to kill the mood" between him and Jojo. Like it's a stunt. Robby told him to shut up and keep his spotlight on the doors, but Jordan was so busy complaining Chad could have snuck back into the house.
It's been 4 hours.
Night is coming.
(Break)
I'm worried Jojo doesn't appreciate a stoic guy- she's always spending time with the flashy, famous people in the group (Robby, Jordan, Grant) who are all bark and no bite. When Chad was bashing in the front door where was Grant? Not helping Vinny and I bar it, or providing cover fire. Crouching behind the couch because "he makes a living off of his face."
I make a living off of staying alive.
Someone's screaming but when I get back I'll tell you about what a wimp Jordan is.
(Break)
It was James T screaming. He's not in the house. Chad keeps moving him around the perimeter so we can't catch them in one of our spotlights. I don't know what Chad's doing to James but he sounds awful. Every once in a while we can hear Chad tell James to "sing for him." How did the producers ever let Chad on this show?
Anyways, Jordan. Unnnngh. Waste of an NFL player. You know the first person Jordan tried to call before we found out that the cell phone Chad left us had no SIM card? You guessed it- his brother. What's your brother going to do, idiot? Throw an incredible pass to Chad without it being intercepted? Grow up. Call the cops.
I'm so sick of his crap. He's going to get someone killed. The first morning after Chad went rogue Jordan woke the whole house up, crying about how Chad had shot at him through the windows. Well, you turned the shower on! Talk about giving away your position. At least it wasted the last of Chad's ammo and now we just have to worry about knives and homemade spears.
Jojo's really into Jordan though so I try to be nice when she's around.
(Break)
Jojo called an impromptu house meeting today.
"I care about all of you guys so much," she said, "and it means so much to me that you've banded together to protect each other from Chad."
We all looked around really gratefully, but I know we were wondering how long the trust could last.
"Robby, Alex, you both did an amazing job getting Chad out of the walls. Those first few days were terrifying, and I know we all sleep better knowing Chad's not looking at us through the peepholes he cut."
Her eyes darted to the graves, but she didn't mention Christian. That was some telltale heart shit.
"I know now that James has... now that James isn't in the house any more, there are only six of you left." She said (I guess she's not counting Chad?) "But let's not cut down to the top four. Let's just all try to stay alive and someone will come rescue us soon." She didn't sound confident in the last part.
The meeting kinda broke down after that, and Luke cooked us another of our squirrels. We're lucky we caught so many in the early days, and that there was a cage of doves in the basement.
(Break)
Jojo and Luke slept together tonight. Ugh. I know someone has to be with Jojo at all times, but can you not rub it in our faces?
(Break)
Jojo and Luke found James' body when they went out for their one on one. Just like the others- decapitated with a rose stuck in the neck.
Luke dragged the body back and we buried him next to Nick, Daniel, Evan, Christian, Wells, and Ali. (Still can't find Vinny even with the smell.)
I should be sad but all I keep thinking is "2 more and I'm in the top 4!"
If Evan were here he'd understand. He'd crack one of his hilarious "Mojo for Jojo" jokes. What a riot. I wonder if he had ED.
(Break)
I wish we could get Chris Harrison out of the tree. Chad did a good job nailing him up there. The site of his decaying corpse completely ruins the view from the front of the house, which means every date has to leave from the side door.
(Break)
Today we did the "hometown dates." We couldn't leave the house, obviously, so we just described our hometowns and how much we missed our loved ones and wondered if we'd ever see them again. It was a pretty good time, Jojo winked at me when I said my mother was still alive and just wanted me to meet the right woman! Everything was great until Lyin' Luke started crying and whispering about how he wished he could see his dog one last time. Jojo started comforting him and the rest of us tried not to roll our eyes. Can't she see he's just playing her?!
(Break)
Robby tried to run today at 4am. I heard the front window smash and Alex and I were in the living room while Robby sprinted away from the house.
"Fuck!" Alex said, pointing "He took one of the guns!"
Robby's head was on a swivel, looking everywhere. After he cleared the driveway he stopped looking back and just ran for it.
Chad's head surfaced above the grass like a shark's fin.
"ROBBY," I bellowed. "BEHIND YOU!"
Robby turned around and raised the gun but Chad was too close and tackled him. We heard the gun go off twice. The grass rustled. Finally Robby stood up.
"Yes!" Alex punched the air. "He did i-"
Alex stopped cheering when we realized Robby wasn't standing. Chad was holding him up. He swayed in the breeze like a human shield.
Chad retreated.
I counted the bullets we had left. Four.
I put one in my pocket and took one of the spare date guns. Everyone will think Robby had taken the ammo.
Everyone will think Chad has it.
(Break)
Water stopped running. We're all thirsty, but we're letting Jojo drink the water we saved when the power went out.
(Break)
He's back.
Last night Grant fell off the roof during guard duty, his throat had been slit. Chad was on the roof. He's back in the house.
I put newspaper in the peepholes we know about but Chad moves through the crawlspaces between rooms like he's half rat.
And now he has the gun Robby took.
Made it to top five! Go me!
(High-five noise)
(Break)
/*FUTURE NOTES
Alive now: James F, Robby, Jordan, Grant, Alex,Luke (Chad)
James walks in on Jordan killing Alex; Jordan tries to explain that Chad said if he killed Alex, Chad won't kill Jordan.
Jordan turns on James, turning to Chad's side for amnesty; James gets away
Chad kills Jordan
Luke and James kill Chad; Luke dies
James F wins!
*/
(DJ Khaled!)
Fellas comparin' dicks,
don't know what they're getting into-
My dick is frankly
The coolest place I've ever been to!
My dick length is a mystery
to dick length scholars
The subway sub of My Dick
Costs 15 dollars!
A dick this size couldn't possibly
please my partner
The only hoes my dick can pick up
were used by a gardener.
Friends warning each other,
Sayin' not to date me.
I used one weird trick
And now scientists hate me!
My dick or a yardstick?
There's no question what's the longest.
I don't get blowjobs-
I give hotdog-eating contests!
When I walk into the club,
My dick's already at the bar
Cause it went to get us seats
While I was parkin the car.
Small talk is awkward-
My dick and I don't share a hobby.
When I go in to see the doctor
My dick waits in the lobby.
My dick put itself through college
And got addicted to Adderall
If I'm erect in Florida
People think I'm Canaveral!
I put some sails in my dick
And I took to the sea!
Saw a whale on the horizon,
Beautiful as can be.
As it crested with the waves
I saw dick veins in its back,
"The whale is also my dick!"
I exclaimed as the whale attacked.
It's trying to down my ship,
And its anger is unholy.
I harpoon it in the tip!
Me, Ishmael; Dick, Moby.
As you can tell by now
Our relationship is strained
I stopped couples' therapy
'Cause my dick only complained.
I stopped using dating apps
'Cause no one wants what I'm packing-
My only real outlet
Is dick-length brag-rapping.
Last month I told my dick
It had to start paying rent.
It got pissed, told me off,
Then spent a week at a friend's!
I'd love to meet somebody!
Fall in love, make it work.
But I can't meet anyone
When my dick is such a jerk.
I just hope they can find
A way to safely remove my dick.
I try to keep my chin up
But I struggle to deal with it.
Between my dick and a chode
I would definitely choose the latter
'Cause despite everything they say
Size does matter.
(Brrrrap Brap!)
I was a chef for all my life
And made my living by the knife.
But try and try my uttermost
I could not turn bread into toast
Now lobster bisque was more my speed
Made duck confit for those in need
My mousse you'd find quite rich and thick
But making toast was not my shtick.
One fateful day, it grew too much
"I must learn toast!" I cried, "I must!"
I kissed my kids and hugged my hubby
Then locked myself in toastly study.
Toast is bread that's somehow changed
Its molecules are rearranged
It gains some crispness, loses bend-
Is that what toast is, in the end?
My beard grew long, my notes as well
I felt so lost in toasty hell
When finally I was inspired-
I'd just hold bread over a fire!
I stacked my cookbooks one by one
(I added gas, but just for fun)
I knew the risks, I played the game
I touched the gas to hand-torch flame.
I guess the gas I'd overloaded
My study pretty much exploded
I stepped from the study, glad no one was hurt
And saw my sweet hubby, fatally burned.
My kids weren't much better, my daughter flambéd,
My son had gone on to meet Harambe.
Just for some toast my whole family died
I cursed my study, and my own foolish pride.
As smoke alarms screamed I stalked through the flames
And made my way slowly to the object of blame.
I busted down doors, and broke a few locks
And lifted the lid on my dreaded bread box.
I grabbed up a loaf, I think some whole wheat
And used my late husband as a source of some heat.
As I crunched on the crust, the flames growing higher
I ate my first toast, and with it I expired.
If there's a moral to what happened that day,
It's to value the toast that you eat every day.
Or maybe the moral that I take to the last
Is be careful, this winter, and don't use too much gas.
When I make chit chat I aim to win, and talking at coworkers is no different. Once while enjoying a hot caffeinated bean soup I yelled to my friendworker Hailey, "what's the games you've played?"
Her eyes let out a puff of surprise at my enthusiasm, because she didn't know what a gamesman I was. Then she plucked Mario Slapabouts from a leather bag around her ankle. Behold it:
Mario Slapabouts
Soon I'd forget to eat because this game made me cry too hard. Hailey and I don't talk any more we just slapabout.
From the first whispers of the game's opening I knew I was in for a whole new kind of jump and run, or puzzle undoing.
The game begins with a far away shot of Mario on a hillside. He surveys what can only be described as a nightmare landscape which stretches before him seemingly forever. Trees battle witch each other to look the gnarliest. The sun has long since hid itself behind a layer of grandma-linen-colored clouds. There is a thick mist covering a large portion of the screen. For a second we see a rabbit, but the very ground around it shifts unnaturally and pins its legs into place. The rabbit's eyes grow wide and it struggles to free itself from nature's grasp. "UNGH!" yells the rabbit, like it is being punched in the gut. It is being pulled deeper and deeper into the earth's embrace. Soon its stomach is hidden from view. The rabbit begins to cry. It stops struggling. Its tears pool where its face is being sucked under, until finally only its ears remain. A black hawk, fearful in its majesty, swoops down and grabs the ears, but it's going too fast and only rips them in half. A muffled scream is heard from the ground that ate the rabbit. As the hawk gains altitude again, an unseen marksman shoots it right in the face, and it plummets into the earth, which gleefully swallows it all, slurping down even the feathers. The ground coughs up a beak.
The shot cuts to a close up of Mario's face.
"Let's make this whole place squares," he says stridently.
Then the game menu pops up, right on the hill. It's jarringly cheery, and prompts you to "Begin Squaresing At Your Own Risk."
At this point Hailey turned her eyes at me by turning her whole head so that her eyes were able to focus on my eyes. I did the same, out of politeness. Our eyes looked at each other to indicate sincerity.
"This game may scare you," she warned me. "I don't want to see you fill your pants with urine or even poops."
"I never poop," I assured her. "Except when I try to."
Hailey shrugged her shoulders BIG to show how little confidence she had in this. I didn't show it, but I began to feel the fears I feel in the grocery store when I can't choose a mac and cheese flavor: has this made someone shit their own poop before? I am terrified.
By the time my terror sweat had finished coming out of my arm sockets, Hailey had chosen all the boring settings that squaresing required and we'd gotten to the point of picking a team
We have to make this nightmare world squares.
Hailey explained this to me succinctly, with a minimum of diagrams. "When you think about what land is, it's a blanket. A wrinkly blanket. And when you're not in bed and you see your wrinkly blanket don't you wish it was a flat blanket? That's this game. The nightmares come from all of the wrinkles and the sun can only come out when you're flattening it out into the flattest shape ever: squares."
At this point, Hailey referred me to tattoo on her collar bone, which read: "But squares can't make squares- that's the rule. The only thing that can make squares is the biggest wrinkle of all time: spheres. A perfect wrinkle is a sphere."
So you spend the whole game making these squares as flat as you can using a sphere. It's math.
You choose a squaresing team of two animals. The animals in the Slapabout family spent so long hiding from their monster world they now only experience fear. This makes even their simple task daunting. You see, the animals don't do the hard work of taming nightmares, they just keep the place square for Mario while he's busy.
You can play as Mario, but this is a mistake. When the game was being developed most of it was about Mario, and his quest to get rid of all nightmares. Back then the game was called "Mario: There is Nothing He Cannot Destroy" and used every button on the N64 controller. Mario could eat the flesh of his nightmare foes to gain unheard of powers: control over grass, filling his enemies with glee, or turning their insides to chalk. The game was a masterwork. In the final levels you would fight yourself, which was represented by a glowing green orb labelled "Pile of Unforgettable Regrets." You couldn't win.
But then they didn't remember to include it in the full release and accidentally created Mario Slapabouts, which was an office joke. When the development team realized the error they made, they immediately said "We did this bad thing by a joke, we must make the world right again." They joined their forces, went into hiding, and became Bankse.
But you still haven't even met the animals.
Many of the small junkyard animals in the Slapabouts family screech and warble as they run around their squares. By far the wailiest trash animal is the Chubs Diaper:
Chubs Diaper
The Chubs Diaper, shown here trying to remember his parents' faces, creates from its mouth the unholiest of shrieks. When you wake up at night and hear the creaking of a door somewhere in the belly of your house, pray that it is just a burglar or kill-man and not the Chubs Diaper come to tell you all about its squares. When the Chubs Diaper fails to flatten its squares correctly it gnashes its teeth and wails. Often the other animals will hit it, chanting "You are the worst of us." They are correct.
Another fun animal to dislike is Uncle Bart.
Uncle Bart
Uncle Bart was a dog at one point, but the world is unkind and turned his face into a triangle graveyard with a big peach in the middle. At one point Uncle Bart played happily among the lawns of Southern Providence, but due to an errant dogwalker he ended up in the nightmare lands. He eats anything, even McDonald's. Uncle Bart scares the Chubs Diaper for fun but the weeping and wailing bring him no joy.
There are other animals but I'm crying too hard just looking at them to describe them. Here are their faces in case you ever need to look at something you hate:
Gramblefrange
Hintsly the Wisp
Craig the Sad Clown
Internet Explorer
Humblebuttons and Hoover
Mario
Whoops, I guess Another Mario
Tall Dog
Frodo
After days and days of playing, I am drunk. My tears come out without sound because they are so frequent. Hailey also drinks heavily, and a malaise creeps over our lives and the whole workplace. Slapabouts has broken us.
Can I in good faith say the squares are worth it? Yes, absolutely. They are order being brought to chaos, and I enjoy seeing the animals hit the Chubs Diaper. There is justice, certainly. But I cannot handle it.
The gameplay flows wonderfully and it's easy to lose hours to it. Some characters are poorly balanced (Chubs Diaper, Hintsly the Wisp). Depth perception is really hard when you're playing on the court away from the camera.
Good luck squaresers
The Crimson Regiment, Eugenides fourth novel, is expected to explore themes of modern isolation in a suburban setting. A family drama which looks inwards and backwards.
The youthful image of her smooth thighs slid across my pubescent mind at odd moments. I'd be hitting a baseball into the lake, or looking at my father shining his business shoes, and there she'd be, unsummoned but not unwanted. At such times, I found my mind seized like my father's station wagon. All I could think was her. It was like the rest of my life was behind glass and she was the condensation of my breath on it. It was like someone is named Alton, my father is a generic businessman, religion is treated mystically, we're all Greek, and everything happens in Detroit.
An expectant college graduate looks back on her life in suburbia while waiting for test results which will change her life forever.
Tommy Lawtner's escapades were always shared with us under the hedges his mother planted by their porch. The magnolia branches twitched with our excitement while we listened to his worldly stories.
And the stories! What stories! How they lived in India on a river boat with an old woman who never told them her name. Finding a purple flower at the top of a hill in Ireland, a symbol, so said his ancient nanny, of a violent death. It felt so far away from my life where someone is named Alton, my father is a generic businessman, religion is treated mystically, we're all Greek, and everything happens in Detroit.
This one's about sex, I think
Well back then we didn't have cell phones, did we? We didn't have your fancy computers and your fuckin' wingdings, did we? We just had good old-fashioned businessmen trying to provide for their greek families in, let's be fucking honest about it, Detroit. Yeah. Detroit. And yeah, oh yeah, I'm gonna bring up the race riots all the time. I'll mention the other stuff, but you know what you're here for. Thanks for the money, you post-grad-school pretentious nut sack.
Anyways, Claudia loved roller-blading in the spring, just like Aeneas.
A stunning move for literature- a novel in which something happens in Cincinnati.
The highlight of my young adult life, of course, was packing for our family vacation.
"Alton", said my mother at my father. "Don't forget your copy of The Iliad!"
My father bustled in, dressed in his usual blue suit. "I believe in God!" he yelled, as he was accustomed to. "But the numbers don't lie!"
I smoked my reefer in our 57 Oldsmobile and thought about literature, which I read. I didn't even know then how many of my friends were gonna kill themselves, but it was so many.
When Alton finally finished packing up his god stuff, we finally got on our much needed vacation to Detroit. Specifically, Grosse Pointe.
Here are the real notes our teacher gave my 401 class
Alan's Note: "Alan seems nice."
Zubi's Note: [YouTube video of that scene in stepbrothers where Rob Riggle tells Dale he just wants to punch him in the face]
Stephen I's Note: "Stephen, you're a talented improviser with strong character work. Focus on setting a base reality early and you'll find your scene work expand even further. it was a pleasure having you in class as an example of bold choices and con--- oh, crap. There's two Stephens. Ah, okay! Um... good job I guess. Really play those second and third moves or whatever."
Drew's Note: "Drew- you are tight as hell, man. Love that galaxy sweatshirt you wore to the last show, where can I cop that, bro? Anyways, keep ur shit legit! Sidebar- u should be meaner to Derek. Can't stand that guy"
Morgan's Note: "Alan seems nice."
Derek's Note: "Good work, Derek. You have such a big energy and commitment to your scenes. But because you spilled a slurpie in class one time I'm gunna hafta ban you from the school and theater for life, try your luck elsewhere because you're not welcome back, ps. everyone who was mean to you in class got an A so that means everyone got an A even you"
Will's Note: "You do you, Big Mac"
Stephen B's Note: "Stephen: You little shit. You know what you did, you cat humping whale killer, I hope you're happy. See you in hell, you ratfaced little turd gobbler. Ground your characters in a point of view and eat a bag of dog testes, fart lord."
Ty's Note: "Couldn't hear ya"
Emily's Note: "Girl, you saw too many shows. Go home! Also, great job being mean to Derek."
Rachel declined to share her notes, but did have questions about them.
Even though I'm 300 feet from the stage at this godawful rally, I can see clearly that John Kasich is very tired. As he sits around, waiting to receive a pittance of delegates, he runs his hand through his hair as if to say, “Is there nothing for me in this wasteland I call a life?” I want only to reach out to him, reassure him that his presence here means everything to me, and tell him the guy doing coat check reeks of weed.
I’m not John Kasich, and I won’t try to speak for him, but if I did try to speak for him, I’d say “Enough is enough, John, who is me.” I’d keep telling myself: “It’s time to get out of this pit, go home, pour myself a glass of milk, and let my eyes slowly glaze over until sleep takes me.” I’d listen to me if I were John Kasich, because John Kasich is a pretty smart guy, and someone I admire. I'd admire him even better if I weren’t standing behind drunk basketball players wearing cowboy hats.
On stage, John rises from his seat hesitantly. He reminds me of a bear coming out of hibernation after a long, harsh winter. The bear is exhausted from the effort of surviving. “Maybe it’s time I gave up,” thinks the bear. “Maybe I’ll never become the Republican presidential candidate,” which is a metaphor for catching salmon. The bear looks so sad, and stands at the opening of his cave, just taking in the gorgeous forest vista. But the bear’s eyes are unfocused- he cannot see the incredible dips of the wooded valleys, or how the sunlight pours onto them. He is remembering another forest, maybe. The bear sighs deeply and runs a paw through his head fur. I bet the bear’s feet aren’t stuck to the floor of his cave by a thick veneer of spilled beer and piss.
God, if you could see John Kasich drive. He does it rarely, since he has a driver probably. I’ve never seen John’s driving, and it is majestic. The slow unfolding of his elbows, wrinkles flattening out as he shifts into fifth gear. The bumps in the road jostle his Volvo, and he lets the asphalt guide his hands. Will he ever become something greater than Ohio’s youngest state senator? Maybe. If I were in the car, I’d put my hand on his shoulder, startling him out of his highway reverie. My concern written on my knitted brow, I'd ask, “Wanna grab a shake?” pointing at the McDonald’s sign going past. John would smile at me, and shake his head. He is clearly touched that I noticed he’s having a sad, pensive day hypothetically. He doesn’t point out that they call their shakes McFlurry’s. We’ve travelled together a long time, and the silence grows around us. When I think he’s not looking, I glance over at John, worried. I sympathize wordlessly with a man I look up to, but have never spoken with directly or indirectly. Only a few more hours and we’ll each be home. There has to be something I can say, but I can’t think of it, and I wouldn’t think of it in time if this had really happened. Definitely can't think of what to say with this baby screaming behind me. Who brings a baby to a rally?!
John looks across the crowd, not at me, but near me- kinda in my direction. On stage, he nods and smiles, then laughs at something an aide says. His eyes stay troubled. He wants to scream. In my heart of hearts I hear his scream and I scream back, “You’re just a man, John! You’re just a man with conservative politics and maybe twenty good years left! Don’t waste them trying to impress the bigots and bigwigs who run this shithole. Create a legacy you’re proud of and to hell with the history books.” With my heart I scream so loud, but with my mouth I’m eating this enormous hot dog. My hand is covered in melted cheese. It cost eight bucks.
Soon the nutrients of this cheese dog will become a small part of my respect for John Kasich. The other hot dog parts will become shit, like the people I’m surrounded by at this godforsaken rally.