Commercial: Take Care Of Your F*cking Kids.

Wide shot of a woman standing on the sidewalk of a moderately busy city street, holding her 8-year-old daughter's hand, as she looks around for someone. The camera goes in close on her face, lighting up with recognition.

"Ooh, ooh, Mr. Scorsese."

We see, on the opposite sidewalk, Martin Scorsese, who looks around a bit bewildered. "Me?"

The woman runs up, daughter in tow. "Yes, hi, could you please watch my daughter for me, for like two hours? I'll be right back."

"Uh, but I don't even--" The mother forces her daughter's hand into Martin's.

"Oh, thanks, you're a big help. Love your work."

She hurries off screen. With the two of them left alone in frame, the little girl stares up at Martin Scorsese expectantly, who looks back at her with discomfort.

Voice-over announcer: "You wouldn't leave your children with a stranger."

On-screen caption reads the same in large letters, with the smaller tagline below: "Take care of your f*cking kids," censored out for emphasis. "A message from (some organization against the censorship of movies, games, and music by whiny parents who want the government to protect their children for them)."

Mobius

"You found a bug, and you thought you could fix it."

"Yes, of course. That's my job."

It shook its head. Or, maybe, where its head was, probably. "When will you ever learn? What you do is not who you are."

I shrugged. Why didn't that bother me as much as it should have? "I'm not sure what else I've got. This is all I am."

"Another mistake. This is why you're still here."

I scoffed. "So that's all this is? You're going to keep knocking me over the head with your bamboo cane until grasshopper can bullshit his way out of this mess?"

"I suppose that's a start."



With a jolt, I open my eyes. That sudden elevator feeling of falling, or slipping, or missing a step. I'm back in my bed, again. I can't exhale a sigh deep enough to expel all the resignation I feel, or have felt, or have always been feeling. I'm not really sure what tense is appropriate here, and I apologize. I didn't get the best marks in atemporal grammar.

It's 3:14 in the morning. That's how I know I'm still here.

I toss off the blankets, make my way across the room, and peek through the blinds leaking twilight into my apartment. That sounds pretty good, I think. I'm not sure exactly when twilight officially is, but I'm better at being poetic than at knowing random trivia. It's passable, at least. Does anybody really know what time it is?

The city. Its silhouette is like the corpse of a god, barely stirring in protest, insisting that it's not dead after all. The first few hundred thousand times I saw it, I was at least a little impressed. For a while, I even got bored of it, before I made up ways to be interested in it again. Now it just reminds me that it's still today. That I'm still stuck in this recursive loop that I've written myself into.

While it is today, I return.

2013

I haven't posted anything since November due to NaNoWriMo, which I'm proud to say I finished for the first time ever. But I haven't had an excuse not to post for about a month and a half now, so here I am putting something down, because that's the foundation of writing. Seeing Kyell Gold tweet-and-journal about his new book, and being flown out to FC for signing, motivated me to think about my writing and the direction I want to be going in this year.

I don't want to fall into the same trap of making resolutions and not sticking to them, so I'm just going to post some things here to commit them to digital stone. When they exist in the real world, outside of my head, they impart a greater sense of urgency and accountability.

1. Draw more. I've been pretty good about this recently, but I've been slowing down since my last finished thing. I have a sizable backlog of commissions and personal ideas, so there's no reason not to be working on something if I have time after school obligations. I should be able to finish at least one thing a week.

2. Write more. With two short stories I want to finish for the 2013 Rainfurrest anthology by the end of February, and the rest of Burning Bright (NaNoWriMo) to complete, there's plenty to work on right now. I'm going to shoot for a weekly thing here.

3. Get back in the gym. I've been doing this again too, and I'm really happy about it. I've been doing more research, trying to take a proactive approach rather than just being committed to going through the motions. Which helps in sticking with it, but not at all at making progress. To give it a solid number, I feel like 160 is a reasonable Summer goal weight. I'm currently floating around 145.

4. School, work, friends. In that order. I've never been this busy in my life before, and I'm actually feeling really good about it. Hybrid classes this quarter and hopefully a part-time job, to slowly ease into things. My brain seems to like that better, rather than just polarbearing into it. I haven't gotten that Wanderlust yet. That's a good sign.

I'd say that about sums it up for now.

1. Post art every week.
2. Post writing every week.
3. Work out.
4. Life stuff.

That sort of degenerated into a Brian McKnight-esque list of instructions.

Interview

The wolf sat back in the chair, folding his hands over one crossed leg without once looking at the resume on his clipboard. It had always been slightly disarming whenever it had happened to him in the past, and he decided it was a good tool in seeing applicants' reactions. "So tell me a little bit about yourself."

Unflinchingly, the bull smiled a good-ol'-boy smile. "I'm hardworking, you can count on that. Nothing fazes me. I'm good at handling lots of things at once and keeping a cool head about it."

"What makes you different from everyone else I'm meeting with today?"

He paused. Not so long as to create an awkward silence, but enough to show that he had given it some consideration. "I combine a unique blend of serene strength with unwavering determination. Put me to a task, and I'll get it done, no matter what it is."

Though the wolf had already combed through the resume before, he adjusted his glasses and made to skim over it nonchalantly. "I see you have a solid work history. But what can you tell me about the most difficult personal challenge you've faced?" That was always a tough one.

The bull leaned in, hunkering down over his lap with his elbows on his tree trunk thighs. He exhaled softly before he began. "I was just a calf at the time. My grandparents had taken me out on a long road trip, and they were having an argument. The kind you think's gonna tear 'em apart. Maybe literally. My grandfather was threatening divorce. But you know, I just stayed level and did my best to mediate, and calmed 'em down. Talked 'em out of it. They later told me they were surprised by my wisdom and clarity." He chuckled softly, sitting back upright with a comfortable smile. "To be honest with you, I was too."

"That's great," the wolf responded mechanically, fidgeting a bit with the clipboard. He hadn't expected the bull to be that personal. "Lastly, what's one thing that worries you about this position?"

The bull clenched his teeth for the briefest of moments before answering. "You know, people have the misconception that bulls are quick to anger. I'll be straight with you, I've got a mean streak, and it runs in my blood. Man's gotta be honest about things like that. But I don't let it get in the way of business. It's gonna be tough trying to convince people of that sometimes, but I think that's part of what's gonna make me great around here."

"Thank you. I think you'll be perfect for the job."

Dogs of War, Part 2

I grasped a handful of the tubes stuck into his chest. "How easily I could change that for you."

"And still, you don't."

Our supplies were limited, most of all our medicine and life support machinery. But I was not the only one of our number who wanted to learn the truth of this Banarii's claim, else he would have been left to die, his words unheeded, our blind obedience uninterrupted. Then it wouldn't matter what state our salves and bandages were in.

I released my grip on the plastic veins supplying him lifeblood. "You could have made it all up so that we would keep you alive."

"Banarii live and die by honor. If the war rages on, I should have no desperate need to cling to life."

"You call slaughtering innocents honorable?"

"There is no more virtue in claiming your neighbor's home as your own."

"These were blasted lands, unclaimed and inhospitable."

"Perhaps as perceived by your people. But I'm sure you didn't keep me alive to discuss semantics or matters of foreign policy."

I had only ever known the enemy to be uncaring, brutal killers. To meet and speak with one so capable of logical negotiation made me begin to wonder what else we were wrong about. I crossed my arms. "What do you mean, 'the war is over?'"

He sat up with a grunt, his granite countenance appearing stoic and unaffected. "Your king has perished, leading a suicide squad disguised as a diplomatic envoy."

"Did he succeed?" I heard myself ask the question before I could consider a more amicable way to phrase it.

"It remains unclear. But our capital has been decimated."

"And, so, what, you've been trying to get the word out? Wandering into every outpost you encounter?"

He coughed and cleared his throat, making a sound like slinging a sack of bricks over one shoulder. "It became apparent that we had underestimated you humans. You have a will to fight and survive like no other opponent we've faced. Even when our seat of power had been overturned, your smaller isolated camps continued to persist, launching small waves of skirmishes against our surviving forces. My superiors didn't believe me when I insisted that perhaps it was because many of you still did not know what had transpired. They accused me of being sympathetic to the enemy and I faced execution for treason. I bargained for my life, choosing exile over death, so that I could spend the last of my days helping to end this war."

My head swam. I did my best to maintain my composure, but a gale force storm of emotions raged on behind my clammy exterior. It was hard to believe what he was saying, but it had that undeniable feeling of rightness. I had never been a god fearing man, and now I was faced with the toughest test of faith in my life.

"Let's say you're telling the truth."

"And I am."

"But let's just say. Am I supposed to have my men pack their bags, tell them we done did a good job, and everyone can just go home now?"

"Do as it pleases you, human. There is no more fighting to be done."

"There will always be something to fight for, somewhere."

I saluted him, switched off the life support machine, and left the medic's tent to tell the troops that the Banarii mongrel had finally bit the dust.

The Greatest Honor of All

The dust settled, and I realized I was unscathed. I looked up at the Gargoyle towering behind me, his wings unfurled to form a protective barrier. He had a few new scars and bruises, but he seemed unfazed, as always.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

He rumbled with a low chuckle. "Of course. Are you?"

"I think so," I offered. There was an ache in my spine, a familiar chest pain, and a ringing in my ears that still hadn't gone away. I told him so.

"Nothing that won't heal in time," he assured me, dusting off his thick stony arms. We were both covered with a thin layer of ash from the explosion, and the aftershocks had loosed debris all around us. The Gargoyle caught the look of hopelessness in my eyes as I surveyed the damage. "And we can clean all this up, too." He began to pick up the pieces.

I shook my head, nearly on the verge of tears. "It's too much. Why bother? We should just leave and start over somewhere new."

"But you like it here," he said matter-of-factly, cradling an armful of rubble.

"I can't keep doing this all by myself." I felt stupid and childish as soon as the words passed my lips. Had I always been this whiny?

He chuckled again. "You don't have to do anything alone. I've always been here, you know."

I plopped onto the floor cross-legged as he cleaned up the disaster zone around me. "Well, yes... but, I only just realized it. And it's not the same."

"No?" He perked up from his work to look at me with his fluorescent blue eyes and a craggy smile. "I'm hurt," he laughed, before going back to gathering.

"It's not as good, anyway," I insisted. "We can't... you know."

"Mmhmm. But is that really necessary?"

"Sometimes it feels like it."

He dusted his hands off in thunderclaps, having cleared away most of the wreckage, and sat down beside me. "That's the kind of thinking that usually gets you into these sorts of messes in the first place, you know."

"Do I just suffer with it, then?"

"Embrace it," he replied immediately, with a small shrug. The Gargoyle scooted closer and wrapped his fluffy tail around behind me. "Now that you're aware of my love for you, remember that you will always have it."

I leaned against him, wracked with utter despair and frustration. "It's still not the same."

He gently lifted my chin with a single claw so that I could look into his calm sapphire eyes. "That's the best part."

Inspired by Alanis Morisette's new single, "Guardian."

Closure

I knew that this would be the last time I'd walk these halls. I slung the duffel bag full of all my worldly possessions over my shoulder and decided I would make my departure as quick and painless as possible. I would miss this place, but I was finally ready to take my leave.

I hadn't turned the first corner into the main corridor when I ran into Marie -- or rather, when she ran into me. She collapsed against my chest, whimpering and on the verge of tears. When she looked up at me, I saw that her sparse makeup had been running for some time, and had no doubt smeared all over my good traveling shirt.

"Oh please, Charles. You can't go. You mustn't. What are we going to do without you?"

I chuckled sarcastically. "Likely, the same as you'd done before I arrived."

"But everything was so much better when you came, it won't be the same at all!"

"Probably not. But all good things must end in time."

She began to wail. I blushed. "That's a stupid, terrible thing to say! If they must, then... then so shall I!" She pulled out the hairpin keeping her auburn tresses back and poised it at her chest.

I had expected this from her, and deftly snatched the pin out of her hands. "Marie, please. Don't be childish. Life is fleeting, without you having to help it along."

She began sobbing and stammering incoherently.

"Change is a part of life," I said soothingly, smoothing her hair back and replacing the pin in it. "Change fosters growth. And you may not feel like this change is for the better at the moment, but I can almost certainly guarantee that this won't seem like such an earth-shattering crisis in a week, a month, a year from now." I wasn't sure if I wasn't trying to convince myself as much as her, but it was enough to calm her to the point of coherency.

"How do you know?"

I smiled and shrugged. "I don't. But neither will you if you off yourself, silly girl."

She sniffled, dabbing at her face with a lacy handkerchief. "Well, I suppose you're right."

"Of course I am, dear." Elena, the maid, came around the corner just then. Before I could ask for her assistance, she took Marie by the shoulders and gave me a dutiful nod.

"Now, now, young miss, master Charles has business to attend to, let's not keep him from it, hmm?"

I called out my thanks to her as they disappeared around another corner. I would never see either of them again.

I chuckled to myself as I made my way down the servants' stairway and into the kitchen. I would miss Marie's girlishness, her antics, and perhaps even her hysterics. She gave me a sense of purpose, as I sought to soothe her psychoses, but I knew that that was no way to live. Certainly so, as it was not my profession.

I was met, then, by the family butler making his rounds. "Good afternoon, Charlie. I gather you've made all the necessary arrangements for your departure?"

"Just about all of them, Wilford, thank you."

"Could I perhaps trouble you for one last cup of coffee, young sir?"

"No, thank you, Wilford, but I appreciate it as always."

It was hard to determine his expression just then. Wilford had always been difficult to read in all the time I've known him, but I suppose that's an important skill of lifelong servitude. For my sake, I imagined his visage to be one of subtly wistful sadness with a touch of disdain.

"As it pleases you, then."

Without another word, nor affectation of his demeanor, he gave a slight bow and continued on with his routine. I decided then that I would rather live in spartan modesty than maintain a house of such stately splendor. I wanted a home full of warmth and joy, and I wanted to share it with people who gave freely of their happiness. If that meant turning down my own sheets and preparing my own meals, such would be a small price for unguarded cheerfulness.

Though it was my last day at Greensworth Manor, I still could not bring myself to use the front doors. Exiting the rear into the gardens, I caught a glimpse of the Lady, garbed in a sheer white silken gown, sitting beside the fountain. Her unapproachable beauty was twofold in the reflecting pool, and I dared not disturb her meditative quietude. I made to creep past her when the gentle brush of his touch grazed my neck. Despite the summer heat, I shivered.

"Leaving without saying goodbye, darling?"

I answered without averting my gaze from the Lady, nor turning around. "Only to make my leave as unobtrusive as possible." I added, pointedly, "Sir."

"Well," he said with an audible smirk, "I'm glad some old habits die hard. It will be nice to know I've made an... impression on you." Adam traced a finger across the small of my back, along one of many thin rivulets of scar tissue.

The Lady looked up from the fountain, staring away and into the distance longingly. She still seemed to have not seen either of us. "I beg your pardon, sir, but your wife will notice."

"Perhaps some day. But not today." He took hold of my shoulder and turned me about, swiftly and forcibly. I was unable to resist. "You could have been a part of this, Chaz. I could have given you everything."

"I see now, sir, that the only person I can count on to give me what I want, and what I need, is myself." I brushed his hand away, but he caught me at the wrist.

"I know I can't change your mind, but I promise that you'll regret walking out on me."

Much to his surprise, and mine, I pushed him away. "Another promise you'll never fulfill."

He stormed inside, slamming the door behind him, and I cringed. I looked over again at the fountain to see that, to my relief, the Lady had apparently been undisturbed by the commotion. I turned away to make my leave.

"Charles," she called out. I froze.

"Yes, m'lady?" I turned slowly. A soft smile played across her lips with her head tilted slightly askance, like one might look at an endearingly piteous puppy, as she walked over to me.

"I just wanted you to know that I appreciate you for everything you've done in service to my beloved." A reply caught in my throat. "It is simply his way. And I want you to know that I harbor no resentment towards you or your station," she explained reassuringly. If there was any malice in her voice, I could not detect it.

"Why do you stay? There must be a better way to live, m'lady. If I may be so presumptuous."

"Rather presumptuous indeed, for a man of your trade," she laughed. "But to humor you a response, I cannot judge a man for his inclinations or carnal desires. His intent is not of malice, even if he appears to be distressingly misguided."

"This arrangement ill befits me, m'lady. You are a stronger person than I to endure it."

"As one who must constantly turn a blind eye to his shortcomings, I can understand your decision. But he is a part of me as much as I am a part of him. Dedication and resignation are mutually exclusive. Perhaps one day you might discover that for yourself, Charles."

"Would that I shared your optimism, m'lady."

"When you find yourself in a situation that fully meets with your satisfaction, perhaps you might."

We bade one another farewell, and as I took the last few steps off the estate, I considered her words carefully. I decided that the entirety of Greensworth Manor was a sordid place, but resolved never to forget all that I had learned there. People are, after all, ultimately driven by the same base impulses, regardless of their position in life.

I returned home to the brothel, soothed by the familiarity of my own sheets.