Justice League to the Rescue... Sort of!

The poster for my fanfic... Justice League to the Rescue... Sort of! which can be found here:http://www.fanfiction.net/~thegryfter

A poster as silly as the fic itself... Three guesses who graffitied the poster, and the first two guesses don't count!

Clark's Letter to lex

This came out of the total Smallville mania marathon I've been on in the last coupla weeks...

I was watching the third season, and then watched the finale to season 8 again...

I got to thinking about the letter Clark wrote, as the Red-Blue Blur to the citizens of Metropolis. 

What if Clark wrote another letter that day? One he never intended to publish. 

Just something he needed to say... to the person he couldn't save...

**************************************************************************************

Lex

You told me once that our friendship would be the stuff of legend. I guess the two of us should know better than most not to make promises we couldn’t keep. Because that friendship… well… it died, didn’t it?

There’s blame for that, on both sides. Mistrust was sown and, before we knew it, we couldn’t look at each other without suspicion. Without pain. Without mourning what was lost. I don’t presume to think you mourned – I just don’t know. I guess I’m just hoping you did. I guess I’m clinging to the belief that the loss of that friendship affected you as much as it affected me. Because it did effect me, Lex.

It’s funny, now that the end is in sight I find myself assaulted by the strangest thoughts. The most unlikely memories. The song my mom used to hum when she was quilting. The muttered curses from my dad when he was trying to fix the tractor. Lunchtimes in the cafeteria with Pete and Chloe. Cramming seven cups of coffee trying to meet a midnight deadline with Lois. And you…

I’ve thought a lot about you lately. About the way it was, before it got so serious. The way you laughed when I stalled the Lamborghini the first time I drove it. The way you swore I was cheating because you could never beat me at pool. The way I swore up and down I had no feelings for Lana, and yet, I always came to you for advice about “this friend of mine” that liked her. The way we just used to sit – me drinking orange juice, you drinking scotch (I still don’t get that, by the way) – and just talk. About family, cars, girls, our futures, our dreams and, at the best of times, about nothing at all.

I wish I could have saved you. I’ve never wished that I hadn’t saved you at all.

Maybe I should have told you who I really am. Maybe I should have tried harder to pull you back from the edge. Maybe… Maybe…

Maybe I just miss my friend.

It doesn’t matter now. You’re gone, and soon I will be too. Will you be waiting for me when I get to the other side? Will you put your arm around me, call me your brother again, and tell me you forgive me? Will we get another chance to do it right?

I don’t know about legends. All I know is we were friends once, and… however brief it was… it meant more to me than legends ever will.

Clark.

Supernatural - The Soap Opera!

What if Supernatural were a soap opera? What would a typical scene look like? This one's for Carolyn...


Hospital room – night int

dean winchester (brooding, handsome, late 20’s) stands watch by his brother’s (sam winchester - pouty, handsome, mid-20’s) bedside as dr. cox delivers the bad news.

dr. cox
I’m afraid your brother suffered a severe case of sub-cranial damage due to the unlikely length of his spine, Mr Winchester.

dean
Is there anything I can do, Doc? I mean… he’s my… he’s my…
(chokes up, grasps sam’s hand, nearly dislodging the iv)
He’s my brother.

dr. cox
We can keep him comfortable. Monitor his progress, but beyond that…

dr. cox shrugs, in sympathy, exits. dean looks down at sam, tortured.

dean
Dammit, Sammy! Why’d you have to let her…? Why’d you…?

unable to contain his emotions, dean marches toward the end of the bed. close-up on dean’s face as anger bubbles to the surface.

dean
Ruby… I swear… I don’t care how long it takes! Wherever you are… however you try to hide… I’ll find you!

(emotions erupting)
You hear me?! I’ll find…!

he’s cut off when the door opens and a gruffly determined ruby barges in.

ruby
Sam!

dean
You!

slam shots of their expressions as these two enemies square off. Dramatic music plays.

ruby
What happened?

dean
Don’t even start! You know exactly what happened!

ruby
The doctor said it had something to do with his spine!

dean
And we all know you made him strain his spinal cord when you forced him to pull demons! Admit it!

ruby
No! You’ve got it all wrong! I wouldn’t do that to him!

dean
Enough! Enough lies!

ruby
Dean, I swear, I wouldn’t! Sam is… Sam is…

(excruciatingly long pause)
Dean… Sam’s my twin brother.

slam shot on dean, gasping in utter shock. suddenly, sam jerks up in bed, gasping for air.

ruby
Sam!

they rush to his side.

dean
Sam? Sammy, are you okay?

sam looks from one to the other, dazed and confused.

sam
I… Wha…?

dean
It’s okay. It’s okay… take it easy…

sam
Who…? Who are you…? Who am I?

dean and ruby lock eyes, shocked – oh, my god! he’s got amnesia!

end scene.

A Conversation About Profoundness in Chalk

Okay... I know the title's a bit of a mouthful, but I promise... it'll make sense in the end.

The following is an excerpt from my novel, The Conversation... It's based in New York, about six friends who talk more or less continuously in a West Village CoffeeHouse.

Yes, I know that's the premise of the show Friends. It's my all-time favourite show, and this is my homage' to it's genius...

Anyway, I thought this one was particularly funny... And that's not me bragging. it's funny, because of Bart Simpson...

A Conversation About Profoundness in Chalk



Tyler- I did not see Elvis.

Dawson- They are laughing at me, not with me.

Tyler- I will not yell “Fire” in a crowded classroom.

Dawson- I will not encourage others to fly.

Alyssa- Hey guys. What are you–?

Caleb- Ssh!

Tyler- I will not get very far with this attitude.

Dawson- I will not hide behind the Fifth Amendment.

Veronica- But, what are you–?

Caleb- I told you to shut up!

Adrienne- Why?

Tyler- I will not prescribe medication.

Caleb- They’re battling. Now be quiet.

Dawson- I am not authorised to fire substitute teachers.

Alyssa- Battling with what?

Caleb- Bart Simpson chalkboard quotes.

Adrienne- You’re kidding.

Tyler- There are plenty of businesses like show business.

Adrienne- You’re not kidding.

Dawson- Five days is not too long to wait for a gun.

Veronica- What are Bart Simpson chalkboard quotes?

Tyler- Cursive writing does not mean what I think it does.

Dawson- I do not have power of attorney over first graders.

Caleb- If I tell you, will you shut up?

Veronica- I’ll promise to think about considering it.

Tyler- I did not learn everything I need to know in kindergarten.

Dawson- A fire drill does not demand a fire.

Caleb- It’s the lines Bart’s teacher makes him write on the chalkboard as punishment at the start of every Simpsons episode.

Tyler- I did not invent Irish dancing.

Veronica- No!

Dawson- Rudolph’s red nose is not alcohol-related.

Caleb- Yes!

Tyler- I will not demand what I’m worth.

Veronica- And they know these off by heart?

Dawson- I was not the inspiration for Kramer.

Caleb- Apparently.

Tyler- “The President did it” is not an excuse.

Alyssa- This is what you guys do when we’re not here?

Dawson- Hillbillies are people too.

Caleb- Yeah.

Tyler- Grammar is not a time of waste.

Adrienne- Sad.

Dawson- It does not suck to be you.

Veronica- How many are they on?

Tyler- I have neither been there, nor done that.

Caleb- I dunno. Like a million!

Dawson- Pork is not a verb.

Adrienne- Are they even listening to us?

Tyler- Class clown is not a paid position.

Caleb- Doubtful.

Dawson- Substitute teachers are not scabs.

Tyler- My suspension was not “mutual”.

Dawson- Teacher was not dumped. It was mutual.

Alyssa- This is actually pretty impressive.

Tyler- I was not touched “there” by an angel!

Veronica- Oh, God!

Alyssa- Okay… some more than others.

Dawson- I cannot hire a substitute student.

Tyler- I will not obey the voices in my head.

Adrienne- I’ll never understand boys.

Dawson- I will only provide a urine sample when asked.

Tyler- The nurse is not dealing.

Veronica- After this, would you want to?

Dawson- The hamster did not live a “full life”.

Tyler- Genetics is not an excuse.

Adrienne- Got that right.

Caleb- Shh!

Dawson- I am not Charlie Brown on acid.

Tyler- This school does not need a “regime change”.

Veronica- Nothing is sacred anymore.

Dawson- Over forty and single, is not funny.

Tyler- Global warming did not eat my homework.

Alyssa- What the hell is next?

Dawson- I will stop phoning it in.

Veronica- We can hope…

How to pick up strippers...

A subject close to my heart... BELIEVE ME!

I've been a... ahem... frequent patron of Johannesburg's finer, and sometimes... not so finer... gentleman's clubs for a few years now. I believe it is a man's right, NAY, his duty to patronise these establishments based on one, inalienable fact...

And this is that fact....

Are you ready for it...?

Are you sure? It's pretty wisdomous, so, you know, don't tread lightly...

Where was I?

Oh yeah, why guys should go to strip clubs...

Girls have boobies, and we like lookin' at 'em.

It ticks me off no end when girlfriends deny their boyfriends their basic human right to go and look at boobies. I mean what, if not this, did Nelson Mandela spend 27 years in jail for? I ask you!

It's harmless fun, ladies. Really, it is!

Guys don't go to strip clubs with the intention of scoring. because... sad to say... most guys just don't get it right.

Okay, now that I've gotten that twat out the way, let me get to my real point.

And I'm talking to YOU, the dudes who blow your cash at Teazers and get nowhere, no matter how hard you try.

This is for you. My simple guide to picking up strippers.

You can choose to ignore my advice if you want - that is your Nelson Mandela given right. But those who know me will testify to the fact that I know what I'm talking about.

Point 1: Go to a strip club! (otherwise, this whole thing's useless)

Point 2: Find a girl you like, and call her over. (Most guys just sit there, letting the dog-ugly man-thing that usually makes no money sit next to them for four hours, bitching about the fact that she can't make enough cash to support her two Russian children)

Point 3: Listen when she talks, and remember facts. (strippers, like all girls, love to run their mouth, and they will say something that, if you recall it at a later date, will make her think that you're a guy who actually pays attention to, and appreciates her)

The last point is key. Strippers get hit on 100 times a night. If you're just like every other drunken idiot, you'll be at home an hour later trying to remember what that tattoo was on her lower back instead of taking a picture of it with your camera phone.

Three steps.

They sound simple, because they are.

And they work. trust me...

I've got the whip marks to prove it.

...the following is merely a guideline, and the author takes no responsibility for any STDs, whip marks or rope burns that might occur if his advice is taken literally...

So, why bother...?

So... why start blogging after all these years....?

Well, you can blame this rambling mess on two people. One fictional, and the other... not so much: Barney Stinson, from the hit NBC show How I Met Your Mother, and Candee Adams... the sweet one.

In several episodes, Barney's been known to shout "This is so going in my blog!" whenever one of his friends piss him off. And, well... I want that. My friends, family and colleagues piss me off a LOT!

*Oh, don't look at me like that! You know who you are! yes, YOU!*

So, from now on, if that happens, I can shout... "This is so going in my blog!"

I don't think I need any more reason than that...

B