The Fall of The Old South

There I lay, on my deathbed, counting down the minutes until I pass away and explore the afterlife. I had an IV sticking out of my arm, looking at an old scrapbook with old photographs serving as records and documents of my life. I looked back through the years, searching for a place I had known, which was no longer there. And then there was my nurse adjusting my bed sheets and pulling the blanket over my failing body. I thought to myself ‘’Enough already! Just let me die!’‘

My nurse said ‘’ your soup will be ready in an hour.’‘

‘’What good will it do? I’ll be dying not long after you give me the damn soup!’‘ I told her.

‘’I’m just trying to make you comfortable.’‘ she said. ‘’You should rest now.’‘

I just laid there as tiny bits of life continued to drain out of me. Each and every second I stayed alive in this bed was sheer pain and I couldn’t wait to die. Then I started looking at the scrapbook, reflecting on my life. I’m one of the last of the southern aristocrats, a legacy which is about to die with me. As I looked at an old photograph, I flashed back to beginning of the Southern Renaissance which started with a cultural arts festival.

There was a big band playing ‘’When The Saints Go Marching In’‘ as my parents, brothers and sisters, and myself stood there in awe. Artists were also painting portraits and sculptors and craftsmen were creating real life objects out of clay and wood. Many great southern authors were also there. All of a sudden, I spotted William Faulkner, I was a great admirer of his books so I went over as he was signing books.

I asked him ‘’I’m a great admirer of your books, what inspires you to write?’‘

‘’Real life, the environment surrounding me, and the people I meet.’‘ he said.

‘’What other kinds of books would you recommend to a reader?’‘ I asked ‘’And what advice would you give a young writer?’‘

He replied. ‘’Well, I wouldn’t advise him to read Hemingway for starters.’‘

‘’Why not?’‘ I asked.

‘’He always uses short sentences, his stories are always these upbeat tales of his characters traveling around the world.’‘ He started. ‘’I always experiment with stream of consciousness, multiple points of view, and shifting back and forth between different time periods.’‘

It was from this moment I realized Hemingway’s writing was full of shit, and Faulkner was an unrewarded literary genius. I flipped the pages in my scrapbook, and discovered old photographs from after I got married and had children of my own. The photograph was taken at a museum, the painting in the background was of an old man in his final moments on his deathbed. Isn’t the irony of this just grand? My wife was a such beautiful woman with blonde hair and a nice skin complexion and the kids weren’t bad either.

My wife remarked ‘’ This painting is so beautiful, don’t you think so honey?’‘

I said ‘’Uh huh.’‘

‘’Oh look it’s the Mona Lisa!’‘ she beamed ‘’Painted by Leonardo DaVinci.’‘

‘’Nah, it’s just some copy made by a painter the museum hired.’‘ I retorted.

She gave me a dirty look and said ‘’It is not, it’s an authentic DaVinci!’‘

‘’And I suppose the copy of The Last Supper over there is an authentic DaVinci too, huh?’‘ I cracked.

She snapped. ‘’Of course it is!’‘

‘’God your so gullible!’‘ I retorted ‘’You think everything on Earth is authentic.’‘

My wife passed away a few years back, looking back on these arguments makes me realize how much I miss her. I flipped through the scrapbook some more, and found some photographs of my grandchildren when they were small. We were all on vacation in Greece, visiting the homeland of our ancestors, before our aristocratic bloodline came to the Southern part of the United States.

My bewildered grandson said ‘’I can’t believe we’re standing on top of Mount Olympus!’‘

‘’Yeah. I feel just how Zeus would’ve felt, just without the power to send lightning bolts down to strike unsuspecting mortals.’‘ I said.

‘’Oh, would you stop thinking about yourself for one minute.’‘ said my wife. ‘’It always has to be about you, you, and you!’‘

I told her ‘’Well we’re among gods, honey. So it has to be about me, me, and me.’‘

‘’Oh give me a god damn break!’‘ she exclaimed.

All of a sudden, a bolt of lightning appeared out of the heavens, and it started raining. We ran for cover, my wife just had to speak of the gods in vain. If she had just let me ramble on and on and on, things would’ve been fine.

My kids and their own started filling out the room around my deathbed, the doctor asked them to come in. The room had become almost a gallery full of people I loved. They were all wiping the tears from their eyes, and it was just depressing to watch. Everyone just wanted to hold my hand, and they were so upset over the idea of losing me. This part of it seemed quite touching, and I almost started to cry myself. It was at this moment, I almost didn’t want to leave them. My oldest son then took my hand.

‘’How are you holding up?’‘ he asked.

I said ‘’Dying, and you?’‘

‘’At least you’ve still got your sense of humor.’‘ he said. ‘’But it’s not enough to stop the pain inside.’‘

He burst into tears, and I held him as he lay crying on my chest. It was just too much to bear for me, even for someone who was about to die, then all of a sudden I just faded away. My spirit ascended from my body, and the next thing I knew, I was entering a tunnel with a light at the end. And as I walked through the tunnel, I saw these beautiful white clouds, I passed by St. Peter, and these gates made of gold opened up.

As soon as I walked in, William Faulkner and Ernest Hemingway were arguing right in front of me! It was so surreal, they argued so loud, it made the heavens cringe, it was unbelievable. I stood their in awe of their heated conversation. These two seemed to rip the skies apart with their words, I don’t even think the divine angels floating by us could contain their fear of the ensuing argument. One would think God would’ve separated these two by now.

Hemingway shouted ‘’The Sound and The Fury was without a doubt the worst book I have ever read in my entire life!’‘

‘’At least it was a full length novel, not some tiny pice in Life Magazine, such as The Old Man and The Sea for example.’‘ Faulkner retorted.

‘’It won me a Nobel Prize!’‘ exclaimed Hemingway ‘’What did your awful long, boring, drawn out stories ever get you?’‘

‘’I also got a Nobel Prize!’‘ said Faulkner ‘’A full 15 years before you did!’‘

Hemingway shouted ‘’You and your Southern Renaissance BS make me wanna puke!’‘

‘’Oh yeah? Well take your Lost Generation and shove it!’‘ retorted Faulkner.

Then I saw Leonardo DaVinci creating his next masterpiece, he used a mixture of primary colors red, yellow, and blue while painting the background of his canvas. Then he used a mixture of secondary colors orange, green, and purple forming some of the objects in the painting. He turned around and looked at me with a big smile on his face and a bright gleam in his eye. He acted as if I had known him for years and years and years. He put down his paintbrush and shook my hand.

He asked ‘’So you still think those paintings you and your wife saw in the museum were fakes?’‘

‘’They weren’t?’‘ I asked.

He said ‘’No.’‘

I wondered out loud ‘’Was Mona Lisa smiling in your portrait?’‘

‘’An artist never reveals his secrets.’‘ he answered.

I asked ‘’What about the secret code you hid in the last supper?’‘

‘’I’m not telling you.’‘ he said.

I asked ‘’Do you know the meaning of life?’‘

‘’Yes, but you’ll have to find it out on your own, I can’t help you.’‘ he said.

‘’Oh, I see. But thanks for letting me know. ‘’ I answered.

And then, my wife appeared out of nowhere, it was the first time I had seen her since she died. We hugged and shared a long passionate kiss. Then we both looked up, and saw the gods looking down upon us. We had our arms around each other, looking above, wondering what the afterlife had in store for them.

‘’I’ve missed you honey.’‘ I said.

She told me ‘’So have I.’‘

‘’But one thing’s for sure’‘. I said ‘’We’ll never be separated again.’‘

‘’I just hope those we love on Earth are alright.’‘she said.

I said. ‘’Don’t worry, they’ll be fine honey.’‘

Hollywood Can Kiss My Ass!

There I was, a Southern author relaxing, and enjoying a quite day reading my copy of The Elements of Style written by William Strunk Jr. and E.B White. It was a small 80 page book which had been around for 70 years. Many authors such as myself considered it ‘’the writer’s bible’‘, and I was enchanted by its wisdom every time I read it. Then all of a sudden, the phone rang. I wondered ‘’who the hell could be calling at this time of day?’‘. When I heard the voice on the other end of the phone, I couldn’t believe who it was!

‘’Hi, this is Michael Diller.’‘ the voice said.

‘’The famous movie producer?’‘ I asked.

‘’Yes. I loved your latest novel, and the studio is interested in adapting it into a summer blockbuster.’‘ he replied.

‘’I see. How much would I get paid?’‘ I asked.

‘’$150,000 dollars’‘, he replied.

‘’Would I get compensated for any sequels, remakes, or TV spinoffs?’‘ I asked.

‘’Of course’‘, he replied.

‘’Who’d get the rights to it?’‘ I asked.

‘’You keep the rights to your novel, the studio gets the rights to the movie.’‘ he replied.

‘’Would I be able to write the screenplay or get any creative control?’‘ I asked.

‘’No.’‘ he replied.

‘’Why not?’‘ I asked.

‘’Your style is alright for some slow paced novel, but this movie’s gotta be a fast paced blockbuster for the movie to be a big box office smash, so we’d need the right kinda screenwriter for this movie, and the studio has final say over the movie.’‘ he replied.

‘’If you plan to go through with this, you’ll be hearing from my attorney, and your ass’ll be in court you son of a bitch! You understand me?’‘ I exclaimed.

Who did this stupid son of a bitch think he was trying to steal my creation? I had never been so pissed off in my life! After I hung up the phone, I sat there at the computer typing away in anger. I need to blow off the steam from talking to this stupid producer. Stupid investors with no knowledge of the story just give me a bad case of the shits! The phone rang again, better not be another god damn idiot from Hollywood!

‘’Hello?’‘ I asked.

‘’Hi, I’m Steven Lucas, I’m an independent filmmaker.’‘ he replied.

‘’And you wanna do a movie adaptation of my novel, right?’‘ I asked.

‘’Yes I would.’‘ he replied.

‘’Would I get paid $150,000 dollars for the film adaptation?’‘ I asked.

‘’Yes.’‘ he replied.

‘’Would I get compensated for any sequels, remakes, or TV spinoffs?’‘ I asked.

‘’I don’t have the money to compete with the big Hollywood studios, but I assure you’ll still be compensated for any rights and privileges associated with this movie.’‘ he replied.

‘’Would I get the rights to this movie?’‘ I asked.

‘’Yes.’‘ he replied.

‘’So would I also get creative control?’‘ I asked.

‘’No I would get final say, since I’m bringing your vision to the screen.’‘ he replied.

‘’Then why are you giving me the rights if your not gonna give me creative control?’‘ I asked.

‘’It’s just paper.’‘ he replies.

‘’No, your trying to screw me over! Stay away from my movie or I’ll kick your ass!’‘ I shouted.

I hung up the phone again, even independent filmmakers are now trying to rip me off! Who in the hell do these Hollywood people think they are? They steal people’s creations and take credit for it themselves! I know its good business and all, but how can authors such as Stephen King and Danielle Steele put up with it? Now I know why William Faulkner turned to writing screenplays in his later years. The phone rang yet again!

‘’Who is it?’‘ I asked.

‘’This is Dustin Hanks.’‘ the voice replied.

‘’The Academy Award winning actor?’‘ I asked.

‘’Yes I am.’‘ he replied.

‘’You wanna do a movie based on my novel too, right?’‘ I asked.

‘’Oh yes! I think it could win an Oscar!’‘ he replied.

‘’Would I get paid the standard $150,000 dollar fee for the adaptation?’‘

‘’Yes of course.’‘ he replied.

‘’What about sequels, remakes, and TV spinoffs?’‘ I asked.

‘’Well, I don’t know if I’d wanna turn it into a big money making franchise, but I’d be more than willing to work with you on adaptations of my other books also.’‘ he replied.

‘’Who gets the rights to the movie?’‘ I asked.

‘’You and I’ll discuss those details at a later time.’‘ he replied.

‘’Well, do I get to write the screenplay or get creative control?’‘ I asked.

‘’No, a screenwriter will be hired to write it, and I’ll have final say over the picture.’‘ he replied.

‘’Oh, so this is just some lame attempt to get another Oscar? Screw you!’‘ I exclaimed.

Dammit! I wish these losers from Hollywood would quit trying to screw me over! What in the hell is their god damn problem? They wouldn’t know common sense if it bit ‘em in the ass! I realize they have to make money, but why can’t they give screenwriters the recognition they deserve? There are three types of movies. There’s the producer’s movie where a studio executive oversees the development of a summer blockbuster which he makes sure becomes a hit at the box office and paves the way for a big profitable franchise, full of sequels, remakes, and spinoffs on television.

Then there’s the director’s movie where a filmmaker has a clear vision for what he wants capture on film and see it through to how it’s presented on the screen. And at last, there’s the actor’s movie which revolves around your typical A-List celebrity, and is often the type of movie which gets nominated for an Academy Award. Either way, a writer is gonna get screwed out of his own movie. Dammit, the phone’s ringing again!

‘’What is it now?’‘ I asked.

‘’Honey, it’s just me. I just called to let you know I’d be home in a few minutes.’‘ my wife replied.

‘’Alright, see you then.’‘ I said.

‘’Is something wrong?’‘ she asked.

‘’No, just a bunch idiots making prank phone calls.’‘ I said.

‘’Alright, I’ll be there in a few minutes, bye.’‘ she said.

‘’Bye Sweetie.’‘ I said.

Rekindled Flames

Under the dim lights of the dark arena, two professional wrestlers were beating other senseless, the fans in the crowd went wild as this violent and physical art form played out in the ring. The fans and the ring were separated by a mystical cloud of smoke, the wrestlers battling in the ring were in front of it while the fans in the crowd were behind it. As some of the smoke cleared, Eddie Daniels, a 20 something year old individual appeared with another fan.

Eddie asked ‘’Man, isn’t this great?’‘

‘’Yeah, these two hate each other so much, look at how they’re tying it up in the ring!’‘ said the other fan.

The two wrestlers started to brawl outside the ring as the fans caused a riot. One of the wrestlers took a vicious bump into Eddie causing him to fall, and get hurt. A couple of paramedics rushed into view, and carried Eddie out on a stretcher. Ted Daniels, the 40 something year old wrestler responsible for injuring the fan walked the paramedics through the entrance as they wheeled Fan #1 to the backstage area. Once they were backstage, the wrestling promoter awaited for them.

‘’Good show tonight!’‘ he said.

The promoter paid the wrestler his money for the night. He also paid the paramedics, and Eddie as he got up off the stretcher. It turned out the shady figure was Jerry Daniels, he was a short 60 something year old man with a gravel voice.

Jerry said ‘’See? What did I tell you child? This business is about how well you work the marks who buy the tickets.’‘

‘’Yeah Grandpa I know,’‘ Eddie replied ‘’You’ve told me over a thousand times.’‘

‘’Hey Dad, we gotta stop at the nearest kayfabe before moving onto the next town.’‘ Ted mentioned.

The three of them went to a seedy backwater establishment in a hidden part of town. Someone waits for them at the door.

‘’What’s the password?’‘ the doorman asked.

‘’Kayfabe....no shit, I’m the promoter you idiot.’‘ said Jerry.

The three of them walked in, and the place appeared to be a throwback to the old speakeasies of the 1920's. Old jazz music swelled in the background as they spotted a large group of the boys sitting at a table, each of the three grabbed a seat at the table.

Jerry commanded ‘’Alright, before we discuss the finish for tomorrow night’s main event, we need to address the attendance at the gate, it’s been down for quite a while, and we’re losing a lot of money. And for the life of me, I can’t figure out why.’‘

‘’It could be shootfighting, they’re drawing 18,000 people hand over fist while we’re struggling to draw 300 people anywhere in the territory.’‘ one of the boys mentioned.

‘’I think your right on the money there, those shootfighters and the promoters there have a good thing going for them, but how are we gonna compete with them and get our business back at the gate?’‘Jerry asked..

Eddie said‘’Well, we could promote shootfights of our own, but work the marks to draw even more money. And call it ‘’entertainment’‘ to keep the state athletic commissions off our backs, and draw even more money than we’d already be bringing in with the worked shootfights.’‘

‘’Damn your learning fast, even for your age, baby boy!’‘ Jerry said ’‘ I love the idea, but we need some kinda back up plan in case it doesn’t work.’‘.

‘’What do you have in mind?’‘ asked Ted.

Focus shifted from the speakeasy style kayfabe establishment to some big mansion with these huge fancy overhead lights shining bright over deep stained wood wall panels and flooring, and the brown leather furniture. Alexis Morell, a brunette wearing an elegant and refined gown had a cocktail when all of a sudden Krystle Grant, a blonde wearing a simpler outfit stormed into the room all pissed off.

‘’You stole my husband you bitch!’‘ Krystle shouted.

The two women engaged in a catfight destroying all the furniture, pulling each other’s hair, and screaming. Alexis picked up a vase, and threw it at Krystle, but it missed and hit the wall instead.

An individual offscreen uttered the words ‘’And cut!’‘

The camera pulled back to reveal a director advising two actresses in a scene, there were other actors and actresses walking around, talking, and carrying scripts. Writers and producers were also looking on. Everyone cheered for an intense scene well done, with the two actresses who were fighting in front of the camera smiling and taking a bow. As the camera pulled back even further, the logo for the long running soap opera The Innocent Years appeared on a video monitor as a beautiful piano ballad played in the background followed by a plug for the show’s sponsor.

‘’The Innocent Years, brought to you by Avant Garde soap, the world’s most innovative consumer product.’‘ said the announcer.

A meeting went on between the writers and producers of the show on one end with network executives and representatives from Avant Garde soap on the other. The guys from the network and the sponsor seemed uptight and not too happy.
‘’This show is facing cancellation.’‘ said one of the network executives.

Charlene Dobson, the show’s creator asked ‘’Why? We’ve been telling some of our best stories in years!’‘

‘’Your stories have been fantastic, yes, but your show has also fell victim to rising production costs in the last 10-15 years, and plus ratings have fallen because of cable and The Internet, and those are avenues in which our sponsor Avant Garde soaps are looking towards.’‘ The executive replied ‘’ So if you can’t turn things around in 13 weeks, we’re gonna have to pull the plug, I’m sorry.’‘

Charlene was an attractive 30ish-40ish-50ish year old woman with blonde hair. She was crying over the possibility of losing her show when the Caller ID on her cellphone lighted up. The call turned out to be from Jerry, who was also her ex-husband. She didn’t wanna speak to him, but hit the ‘’talk’‘ button anyway.

He said ‘’Hi Sugar, can we talk for a minute? There’s something important I wanna discuss with you.’‘

‘’I got the alimony check in the mail yesterday’‘ She said. ‘’But now’s not a good time for me to talk.’‘.

‘’Why not? Are you crying darlin’?’‘ he asked.

She said ‘’Just go ahead and tell me what was so important, and then kiss my ass by hanging up the phone, alright?’‘

‘’Our attendance is down at the gate, and we’re losing money so we might need your help.’‘ he mentioned.

She sobbed ‘’Well, the timing’s perfect ain’t it? My soap’s losing money, and it maybe cancelled in 13 weeks if we can’t turn the show around. I don’t know what to do.’‘

‘’Look, we’ll figure something out, don’t get so upset. Just calm down, and let’s get together and talk about it. Let’s help each other out, baby doll.’‘ he said.

Charlene walked into the old speakeasy style kayfabe establishment for the first time in years. She spotted old friends of her ex husband she hadn’t seen in years. They were all happy to see each other. She engaged in hugging them, and kissing them all on the cheek before sitting down at the table.

‘’Alright, I love the idea of cashing in on the shootfighting boom, working the marks and calling it ‘’entertainment’‘ to get larger attendance at the gate. I think we should go back to the carnies, and try the approach they had. But we need to add something juicy to the mix to make it seem more personal.’‘Charlene said.

Jerry asked ‘’I don’t know, but the carnie approach died years ago, and how could you make it more personal, honey?’‘.

Charlene mentioned ‘’I write soap operas, remember? Everything I do is personal.’‘
‘’But how can you pull it off?’‘ Ted asked.

Jerry asked‘’Are you forgetting how many years she spent in years she spent in soaps, and how much time she spent here when she had a vacation from the show during the years we were married? She has a good idea of how our operation works.’‘.

‘’But she has no idea of how things operate in or around a wrestling ring, no idea of the importance of the role each person plays in a match.’‘mentioned Ted.

‘’She’s a beautiful, capable woman, and I have faith in her, end of discussion.’‘ said Jerry.


Jerry walked onto the set of his ex wife’s soap opera, he had a familiarity with the cast and crew who worked there for many years. Most on the set seemed ambivalent towards him because of how nasty their divorce was. He took a seat with the writers and producers who seemed to have a cold, calm demeanor.

‘’I think one of the main problem with the show right now is the type of stories you do. They’re the same ones you’ve been doing since the 80's with wealthy characters and over the top plots.’‘ said Jerry ‘’Why not try focusing on working class characters and more realistic plots?’‘

‘’But the network and the sponsor want wealthy characters and over the top plots.’‘ responded one of the writers.

Jerry said ‘’And the funny thing is, the network is plummeting their own ratings, and the advertisers are losing their own money because of it.’‘.

‘’What do you suggest we do?’‘ asked another writer.

Jerry told him ‘’Don’t let them know what your doing until your already writing a producing a certain story, and do what you want and don’t give a shit about what they think.’‘

‘’Do you know the history of our show or are you familiar with our characters?’‘one of the producers asked.

Jerry mentioned ‘’No, but I think if we stick to realistic stories, and stop focusing on what the network and the sponsors want, we might pull off some good stuff.’‘.

‘’Are you gonna let this dirty old man for an ex-husband run the show? He has no idea of the show’s backstory, plus he cheated on you, and you had to find through an article in the newspaper for Christ’s sakes!’‘ exclaimed yet another writer.

‘’It’s long in the past, and as far as I’m concerned it’s water under the bridge. I think he deserves a shot. And I suggest you watch how you talk about my ex-husband.’‘said Charlene.

Jerry and Charlene were in bed together. She had her arm around him while the two shared a long passionate kiss, and moved her long fingernails up and down his hairy chest. Then moved them down his bulging stomach, and then poked one fingernail into his gigantic bellybutton, and gives him a navel massage.

‘’Was it good for you as it was for me baby girl?’‘ he asked.

She moaned ‘’Hmmmmmmm, I loved it! But what’s everyone gonna think when they find out we slept together?’‘

‘’Who cares what they think? It’s just between you and me, sweetie’‘. Jerry said ‘’They don’t matter.’‘ .

‘’But we’re divorced.’‘ Charlene reminded him.

He asked ‘’So what? I’ve slept with everything on the road anyway! Why can’t I sleep with my ex-wife?’‘

‘’I see your point.’‘ She said ‘’Anyway, I just wanna thank you for offering to help out with the show.’‘

Jerry said ‘’It’s no big deal, being in bed with is all the thanks I need.’‘

‘’Anyway, your welcome for the help with the wrestling promotion.’‘ Charlene said.

‘’Gee, thanks.’‘said Jerry.

‘’Who knows?’‘Charlene asked ‘’ Maybe we all need each other.’‘

‘’Maybe your right.’‘ he responded.

Jerry and the rest of the boys were back at the speakeasy style kayfabe establishment. They were all drinking liquor, laughing, and eating food. All the guys at the table raised their glasses, and saluted each other by slamming the glasses together.

‘’So, is it true you and the ex-wife slept together last night?’‘ asked one of the boys.

Jerry said ‘’Yeah, we kinda did.’‘

‘’So is she taking you back?’‘ asked Ted.

‘’It was just a one night thing, boy.’‘ said Jerry.

Eddie said ‘’Yeah, sure it was.’‘

‘’So, when’s the big day?’‘ asked another one of the boys.

Jerry asked ‘’What big day?’‘

‘’When are you and her getting re-married?’‘ he asked.
Jerry told him ‘’We ain’t getting re-married.’‘.

‘’Why not?’‘ he asked.

‘’What existed between me and her years ago is long gone.’‘ Jerry mentioned ‘’ I’ll always love her, but what’s going on now is just business.’‘.

‘’Yeah, sure it is.’‘ said Eddie.

A man sat at the next table with a tape recorder picking up everything they said. He also started making notes with a pen and paper. He turned his ear to the conversation with the tape recorder in one hand, and then with the other, he wrote down his notes.

Charlene was working on the set with a staff writer on The Innocent Years. They were flipping through the staff writer’s script, and Charlene made changes to it with a red pen.

‘’Are you and your ex-husband getting back together?’‘ asked the staff writer.

Charlene asked ‘’What?’‘

‘’Oh, come on, everyone knows you guys slept together.’‘ said the staff writer.

Charlene exclaimed ‘’It was just one night!’‘

‘’One night leads to a whole lotta other nights.’‘ the staff writer teased.

Charlene laughed ‘’Your so full of shit!’‘

‘’Maybe I am, but then again, maybe I’m right.’‘ the staff writer replied.

A woman hid behind one of the corridors in the studio. She wrote the entire conversation on a notepad. As she looked on, she almost chuckled as she continued to record what they were saying by as she continued to write it down in her notepad.

The next morning, Jerry and Charlene were sitting at the kitchen table having breakfast. He was reading an issue of Pro Wrestling Illustrated while she read an issue of Soap Opera Digest. They glanced over at each other’s magazines, and they noticed their business arrangement and one night stand had made the cover of both magazines.

Charlene exclaimed‘’Oh my god! Look what they’re saying!’‘

‘’Well, don’t worry about it sugar, the press’ll do anything for a story.’‘ said Jerry

The door to an arena opened, as a poster read ‘’Southern Fried Entertainment Presents Mixed Martial Arts’‘. Under the dim lights of the dark arena, one shootfighter was beating the other senseless in the ring. The shootfighter on the defensive end was dazed from all the fighting, and the offensive shootfighter gave him a swift kick to the head. The defensive shootfighter went down for the count, and the referee ruled the fight a knockout.

‘’Step right up! Step right up! Those who can spend five minutes in the ring with the champ will receive a cash prize of $5,000!’‘ the ring announcer barked.

A mystical cloud once again separated the ring from the crowd, and a young 20 something year old male fan emerged from the smoke. The ring announcer walked over to interview the fan with his microphone in hand.

‘’Well, what do we have here another challenger? Please tell us, what is your name and why you wanna take on our champion?’‘ asked the ring announcer.

‘’I’m his illegitimate son Peter Crane, and I have a right to claim this legacy, and I won’t stop til I get what I want!’‘ said the fan.

‘’Alright, get in the ring, and show your daddy what you’ve got!’‘ shouted the ring announcer.

Peter Crane got in the ring, and as the bell rang, he and his alleged father started beating the crap out of each other with the fans cheering. After several minutes of this, he put his father in a submission hold, and the father tapped out three times. The referee called for the bell, and handed the illegitimate son the prize money.

The new champ walked out the entrance to the back where the wrestling promoter, the soap opera writer, and the rest of the boys were waiting for him. His deadbeat father soon appeared backstage a second later.

Jerry appearing screaming‘’The show tonight was amazing! I was just counting the ticket money, and you wouldn’t believe it!’‘.

He pulled out a strongbox, he opened it, and everyone looked starry eyed as if they had just found buried treasure. Jerry pulled a huge wad of cash out of the strongbox, the wad was so huge, someone would mistake it for lottery winnings.

‘’We drew 20,000 people with tickets at $5 a pop. Somewhere around $100,000.’‘ said the wrestling promoter.

Everyone backstage went nuts as if they hit the jackpot. He then took the money out of the strongbox, and started paying everyone off. Their eyes all gleamed, at least they all had a decent payoff, paying their dues to reach this moment at last.

A girl was being raped in a college dorm room by a frat boy, she glanced at the bright fancy overhead lights as she struggled to break free. Her frightened eyes also looked around at the deep stained wood wall panels and flooring as well as the leather brown furniture. She slapped, punched, and kicked the frat boy with all her might. She glanced at his crotch, and gave him a hard kick in the balls which prompted him to back off.

‘’GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’‘ she screamed.

‘’Cut! Perfect!’‘ shouted the director.

The camera pulled back, and the rape turned out to be a scene which had just finished taping for The Innocent Years. Everyone on the set screamed and cheered as the two actors in the scene hugged each other for a performance well done.

Jerry and Charlene were looking all happy and giddy as if they were proud parents of the two young actors. Charlene’s cellphone rang, and the Caller ID revealed the phone call to be from the network. She was frightened they’d announce the show’s cancelled, but hits the ‘’talk’‘ button anyway.

‘’Hello?’‘ she asked.

‘’Great news! The show’s ratings have gone from next to last to one of the top three soaps for the first time in years! And Avant Garde soap wants to put more money into the show! We’re renewing it for another five years!’‘ exclaimed the network executive.

‘’Alright everyone!’‘ She shouted ‘’ I got a big announcement!’‘

She rushed back over to the set where most of the cast and crew gathered together. They could tell by the look on her face if something good had happened. She couldn’t wait to tell everyone the good news, the cast and crew wondered what was going on.

She said ‘’As a result of the new direction for the show involving down to earth characters and realistic storylines, the show has moved from next to last to one of top three highest rated soaps for the first time in years! This has convinced Avant Garde soap to put more money into the show, and the network has decided to pick up the show for another five years!’‘

Everyone working the show started cheering and screaming, their hard work had at last paid off. From the daytime television legends who’d been on the show for decades to the young rising stars who were just building their careers, everyone seemed happy.

Jerry and Charlene were in bed together, she rubbed an ice cube all over his hairy chest. She rubbed the ice cube in the small spot where his heart was located, and his heart pounded against his chest as the cold ice cube melted.

Jerry said ‘’I’m so proud of you darlin’, you sure put your soap back on the map.’‘

‘’Yeah, but most of it was because you helped out.’‘said Jerry.

‘’Anything for my baby girl, and besides you returned the favor with the wrestling business.’‘ Jerry said ‘’Where do we go from here?’‘

‘’Maybe we should get back together.’‘ suggested Charlene.

‘’You mean it?’‘ Jerry asked.

Charlene nodded ‘’Uh huh, but we ain’t getting re-married. It’ll just give you a reason to cheat on me again.’‘

‘’Don’t worry, it’s alright.’‘ he said ‘’You have every right to feel the way you do.’‘

‘’Right, but it doesn’t stop me from loving you, living with you, and sleeping with you.’‘ said Charlene.

She planted a big wet kiss on his lips, and clawed her fingers down his hairy chest and huge stomach. She listened to his heartbeat with her head on his chest, and with her hands on his stomach as she felt it growl. He put his arms around her, and they stared at the starry night sky reflecting on the past and wondering about the future.

The Crossroads of Life

I’m standing here between two main roads at the crossroads of my life. I just turned 18, the age where most are looking forward to getting out on their own, but I feel as if I’m having a mid life crisis. I’m a boy from The South, and I can’t enjoy a kid’s life any longer because I’m too old. I also can’t indulge the life of an adult because I’m too young, and won’t be able to drink, go to bars, and strip clubs or buy Playboys until three years from now. What am I to do?

‘’Is something wrong?’‘ asked a mysterious drifter.

‘’Yeah, I just celebrated my 18th birthday, and I feel my life has changed overnight.’‘ I replied.

‘’Well, it’s normal to feel this way at your age’‘, he said.

‘’It is?’‘ I asked.

‘’Sure! Of course it is!’‘ he exclaimed.

‘’How?’‘ I asked.

‘’Tell me about your life before your 18th birthday.’‘ he said.

‘’My family’s kinda rich,’‘ I replied.

‘’Have they made you work hard for everything you’ve got or have you had it always handed to you?’‘ he asked.

‘’They’ve kinda handed to me.’‘ I replied.

‘’Then it’s time for you to stand up on your own two feet, and learn to bust your ass and learn to do the work yourself.’‘ he said.

As he walked away, I pondered those words. He was right, if I was ever gonna amount to anything, I’d have to work hard to get everything I want, not lean on some trust fund or wait for some inheritance. Too many of my relatives have relied on the money and never gotten anywhere in life. They have high ranking positions in my family’s media company, and they know to buy and sell smaller companies within the corporate framework. But do the know anything about how to run a company or how to start one and build it from the ground up? HELL NO!


Ever since the conversation with the mysterious drifter, I’ve been doing research into Sheraton Media, my family’s company. They own every major newspaper, radio, and television station in The South. But what’s sad is their lack of involvement with The Internet. They have the most money yet don’t have the brains to evolve with the changing guard of the media, it’s pathetic. Maybe this should be where I do business.

‘’Hey kid, your purchase of 49% of Sheraton Media just went through.’‘ said my stockbroker.

‘’Good, now I have the public’s financial interest in the company tied up, I can start making my move.’‘ I replied.

‘’What are you planning to do? They still have control of the company.’‘ he said.

‘’Just by a marginal 2%. And besides, they won’t have it for much longer.’‘ I mentioned.

‘’Sounds as if you’ve got a plan.’‘ he responded.

‘’You bet your ass there’s a plan.’‘ I said.

‘’Good, your learning fast. Better than what I can say about most of the spoiled brats trying to run this company.’‘ he mentioned.

During the last six months since buying a share in the company, I’ve stolen many of the top employees from my family’s more traditional and outdated media outlets. I’ve taught many of the top Southern newspaper reporters the fine art of blogging, the most charismatic disc jockeys in The South the sonic precision known as podcasting, and I’ve educated Southern TV personalities and camera crews how to perform in front of and work behind a digital video camera. Also, how to upload the material to a computer, how to the put the visual presentations together using a digital editing system, and how to present them on The Internet.

‘’Do your relatives know what you’ve done?’‘ asked a reporter.

‘’They’re panicking since they lost their top talent, but so far they don’t know I bought the shares and did the evil deed.’‘ I replied.

‘’They’re gonna find out.’‘ he said.

‘’I know at some point they will, but not until I want them to find out.’‘ I said.

‘’How soon do you think it’ll be before they do?’‘ he asked.

‘’We’ll just have to wait and see what happens.’‘ I mentioned.


I wandered into my uncle’s office, they didn’t suspect a damn thing as to who was leading a hostile takeover of the company and raiding their talent. He and all my other relatives as well as the remaining staff were panicking because they thought they were about to be run out of business. Oh man, this asshole didn’t even see it coming compared to what I had in mind. These bastards were so gullible it wasn’t even funny! It was about time to make my last move, and make things complete. I was sure as hell gonna enjoy this!

Oh, thank god you’re here! Things are in terrible shape, is there anything you can do for us?’‘ he asked.

‘’You can sell me 2% of stock in Sheraton Media, and I’ll do everything I can to help you.’‘ I replied.

I pulled out a pen and a contract for him to sign to finalize this transaction. In a good business move, I already signed the deal. I almost had the urge to laugh, as he didn’t know what was coming. These relatives of mine took advantage of me all my life. Just because I was a distant relative, he and the rest of The Sheratons thought of me as weird or different. Now it was time to bite them in the ass! At last, the dumbass son of a bitch signed the deal!

‘’There ya go, but how are you gonna help me by just owning a 2% share?’‘ he asked.

‘’Well, you see. I lied.’‘ I said.

‘’What do you mean?’‘ he questioned.

‘’I have a written proxy for the public’s 49% share of the company, and I’m the wretched piece of shit from The Internet who stole your top guys away from you. Your looking at the new owner of Sheraton Media.’‘ I remarked.

I laid the written proxy down in front of him laughing my ass off because I outsmarted all of my stupid relatives. He was in utter shock and awe as I now had control over every print, broadcast, and internet media outlet in Alabama, Florida, Georgia, Tennessee, Kentucky, Mississippi, Louisiana, Oklahoma, Arkansas, Texas, The Virginias, and The Carolinas.

The Last Screenplay

In his heyday, Johnny Hilton was one of the most powerful screenwriters in Hollywood, he got the privilege to meet Steven Spielberg on the set of his first big movie Jaws back in 1974 and even wrote a draft of the screenplay for Close Encounters of The Third Kind . But now he’s stuck living with his wife in Guntersville, Alabama, trying to write novels, and get an agent in New York to get a book deal so he could have the book adapted into a movie, and become a hot screenwriter in Los Angeles again. But things are kinda slow, and his wife has packed his suitcases and ready to kick him out.

‘’I’ve had just about enough of this bullshit Johnny, your days as a screenwriter are over, go out and get a real job.’‘ said Johnny’s wife Nancy.

‘’Baby, things’ll pick up once I get an agent.’‘ he begged.

‘’Get the hell out!’‘ she exclaimed.

Johnny got his suitcase, left the house, got in the car, and drove off. He looked out at the highway, didn’t know where he was headed. He drove down the road, feeling desperate. He turned right at a motel, and stopped. He got his stuff, and went inside to check in at the information desk at the lobby.
He pulled out a credit card, and handed it to the clerk who put the data into the computer at the front desk. The clerk’s eyes bugged out when he saw who it was, he couldn’t believe he was in the presence of someone from Hollywood.

‘’Are you the screenwriter who married Nancy?’‘ the clerk asked.

‘’Yeah,’‘ Johnny replied.

‘’Enjoy your stay!’‘ exclaimed the clerk.

Johnny walked out of the lobby over to where his room was located, and opened the door with the key. He went over to the night stand, and scribbled something on the notepad with a pen. He pulled a .44 caliber revolver out of his pocket, put in his mouth, and blew his brains out!
Days later after his body was removed, Guntersville police, and members of the local media ransacked his hotel room. A reporter named Ted Callison found the notepad which Johnny had wrote on before he took his own life.

‘’What’d you find?’‘ asked a police officer.

‘’I think it’s a suicide note.’‘ Ted replied.

‘’What does it say?’‘ asked another police officer.

‘’My writing career has turned to shit, my wife has kicked me out, and have nowhere where else to go. As I pull the trigger, I want the world to figure out who I was, what my goal was, and what stood in the way of my goal.’‘ he read.

‘’How do we find all of this out?’‘ asked the first police officer.

‘’I’ll start by asking his wife.’‘ replied Ted.

Ted was soon in Johnny Hilton’s home which he had been kicked out of before committing suicide. The journalist sat down at the dinner table to talk to Nancy about what happened.

‘’Do you know what the passage at the end means? About who he was, what his goals were, and what stood in the way of his goals?’‘ he asked.

‘’He wrote these novels, and tried to get an agent to get him a book deal, he hoped it would lead to him writing a movie version of one of them so he could have a big comeback.’‘ she replied.

‘’Do you know what may have stood in the way of him getting what he desired?’‘ he asked.

‘’I got so frustrated with him not getting employment after we left LA, I got to the point where I just didn’t care anymore.’‘ she responded.

‘’So this was the reason you kicked him out?’‘ he questioned.

‘’Uh Huh,’‘ she said.

Ted was now in the office of film and television producer Sam Caldwell who had worked Johnny Hilton many times over the years. He took a seat in front of Caldwell’s desk, and Ted had his pen and notepad ready as he handed Johnny’s suicide note to Caldwell.

‘’His widow mentioned his goal was to write a novel so he could get a book deal and turn it into a movie.’‘ Ted mentioned.

‘’Lots of has beens in Hollywood try writing a book as a way to get back in the business through the back door, but it never works.’‘ Caldwell laughed.

‘’About the last part of the note, do you know he meant by something standing in the way of his goal?’‘ asked Ted.

‘’I don’t have a clue, I lost touch with him after he left for Alabama with his wife.’‘ Caldwell replied.


‘’Could you tell me more about his career?’‘ Ted asked.

‘’Well, he started writing screenplays in the mid to late 70's and at the start of the 80's, but he started writing flops so he go to the point where he was reduced to writing and producing television until the 90's, and then he up and left for Alabama.’‘ replied Caldwell.

‘’Why did he leave for Alabama?’‘ Ted asked.

‘’I don’t know the exact reason why, but I think his wife was from there.’‘ Caldwell said.

‘Well, thanks for your time.’‘ Ted responded.

‘’One more thing, this quote at the end of the suicide note about who he was, what his goal was, and what stood in the way of his goal, it’s an old quote made by legendary writer Paddy Chayefsky about what he felt were the three main ingredients of storytelling.’‘ mentioned Caldwell.

Ted was in a room at The Hollywood Hotel as he dialed his phone number in Guntersville long distance. His wife was on the on the other end, and they missed each other a great deal.

‘’Hi honey, this big story just got a whole lot bigger, it turns out Johnny Hilton’s suicide has something to do with an old legendary writer who’s been dead for almost 25 years named Paddy Chayefsky. I’m gonna have to fly to New York to dig up some stuff on Chayefsky, and see how it links to Hilton’s suicide.’‘ commented Ted.

‘’When are you coming home?’‘ she asked.

‘’I don’t know, I told you this is a big story. But I’ll be home soon baby, I love you.’‘ he responded.

Several days later, Ted was in a New York public library sitting at a table with each of the collected works of Paddy Chayefsky as well as Chayefsky’s novel entitled Altered States. He flipped through the novel, and then he gazed at the plays he wrote at the beginning of his career. Ted was amazed how much talent Chayefsky had at a young age and how much of life experience he put into those plays since a lot of the main characters were Jewish and living in The Bronx.

He then looks at the teleplays Chayefsky wrote during The Golden Age of Television, what grasped Ted was how dark and realistic they were compared to the light and phony sitcoms of the era such Ozzie and Harriet. Ted then examined the screenplays Chayefsky wrote for the big screen in the final years of his career. He came across the screenplay for Network, one of Chayefsky’s last films in 1976, where the main character Howard Beale, a newscaster threatened to commit suicide on the air for being forced into retirement. Then it just hit Ted!

‘’Damn! A failed film and television writer wanted to write a novel, and a legendary film and television writer who wrote a novel. The failed writercommits an act of suicide imitating an attempted suicide from one of the legendary writer’s last films. Hell, this guy wanted to be Paddy Chayefsky!’‘ Ted shouted.

‘’Shhhhhhhh!’‘ said the librarian.

Somewhere between heaven and hell, the screenwriter who committed suicide Johnny Hilton sat at a computer typing one more screenplay. He typed ‘’Ted got back to his hotel room in New York, and began typing the big story on his laptop. END OF ACT THREE FADE OUT END OF SCREENPLAY.’‘ The journalist Ted Callison now had his big story, and the fallen screenwriter Johnny Hilton now was now able to realize his dream of being the next Paddy Chayefsky, However, the downside was he couldn’t realize it until he reached the afterlife.

The Orlando Theme Park Murders

10!...9!....8!......7!.......6!....5!......4!......3!....2!....1! HAPPY NEW YEAR! screamed everyone. The ball dropped, and a sign flashed ‘’2006'’. Fireworks went off as people sang ‘’Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgot’‘, all the people at The Lagoon which served as the beautiful centerpiece of Universal Studios which brought all the park’s attractions together were in such a festive mood. Couples just hugged and families celebrated.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! a woman shrieked.

The scream came from one of the studio backlots, and all the tourists and employees rushed to the backlot to see what happened. The frightened woman stood over a dead body. Some of the workers at Universal tried to hold her and restrain her to calm her down. She looked as white as a ghost as she continued to glance at the dead body, this person didn’t seem to have died long ago.

‘’Did you just happen to find the body lying here?’‘ asked one of the workers.

‘’Yeah, I was on my way home from watching the fireworks,’‘ said the woman.

‘’Call the police and get everybody outta here!’‘ shouted another worker.

After I got up the next morning, there was a news story on one of the local TV stations about the dead body. The incident was much worse than anyone thought. A picture of the deceased person was shown on the TV screen, a sweet young Mexican girl.

‘’Last night’s New Year’s celebration at Universal Studios ended in tragedy, the body of a Universal employee named Julia Rodriguez was found dead on one of the backlots near the park’s lagoon where the celebration took place. Her throat had been slashed several minutes before the new year commenced.’‘ said the newscaster.

‘’It’s just a shock, everyone loved being around Julia, she such an inspiration to us all, I hope whoever did this to her gets what they deserve.’‘ said the theme park manager.

‘’Who’d wanna murder a sweet girl who came to America just to get the best life possible, she never hurt anybody, someone took my child away from me, and I’ll never be the same again.’‘ said Julia’s mother.

‘’At this time, we have no leads on who murdered this young girl, but we are investigating this matter, and we hope to catch the killer so the spirit of Julia Rodriguez and those who love her can rest.’‘ said the Commissioner of the Orlando Police Department.


***

The Police Commissioner pulled Julia Rodriguez' file out of his desk drawer for one of his forensic experts to look at. The expert looks at the photo of her slashed throat, he appears disgusted by what he sees. He almost can't even look at the photo, he's so sickened by it.

‘’This couldn’t have been done by some random tourist,’‘ said the expert.

‘’Why do you think so?’‘ asked the commissioner.

‘’This was a pre-meditated murder, any person could tell by the slash on her throat, and the logical explanation is some employee at Universal didn’t like her or had a falling out with her. This would be why this employee cut her throat.’‘ the expert answered.

***
Around the time the police were investigating the murder of Julie Rodriguez, I visited the EPCOT theme park at Walt Disney World. The place was divided down the middle in such a perfect way. The visions of the future and technological advancements on one side with a celebration of the world’s various cultures on the other.

‘’OH MY GOD! HELP PLEASE HELP!’‘ screamed a frantic tourist.

The other tourists who strolled around EPCOT just froze, and gazed at what was going on. After Disney employees were able to cut through the massive crowd, all the frightened got a glimpse of what happened. A Disney employee’s throat had been slashed, and the Disney staff did their best to quiet the crowd and break things up as a sheet was laid over the body of the slain young Latino Disney worker.

‘’Alright everyone, we’ve got the situation under control, please enjoy the park and go on with the rest of your planned activities. We’ll have more information released when it becomes available.’‘ said one of the Disney employees.


***

At the police department, photos of the two murder victims were posted on the bulletin board. The police commissioner and his forensics expert were checking things out. The police commissioner once again got their files out of the drawer. He and the forensics expert took another look at them. The forensics expert glanced at the files with an inquisitive look.

‘’These were two young Hispanic theme park employees who just happened to have their throats slashed. I think we got a pattern killer on our hands’‘, said the expert.

‘’I’m starting to think the same thing, but it’s too soon to tell. We just have a double homicide right now,’‘ said the police commissioner.

‘’What are you suggesting? Are you suggesting we let this bastard take another innocent life before we catch him?’‘ asked the forensics expert.

‘’I hate to this say this, but it’s just what we need to do.’‘ answered the police commissioner.

‘’Commissioner, there’s been another murder at Sea World and someone was attacked at Busch Gardens!’‘

‘’We’re on our way!’‘ exclaimed the commissioner.

The police commissioner and a barrage of patrol cars pulled up to the entrance at Sea World, and stormed their way through. The placed was packed as crowd of tourists just stood there in shock gazing at the dead body which was covered up by a sheet. The cops fought their way through the crowd.

‘’Please make some room this is official police business!’‘ shouted the police commissioner.

One of the police officers lifted up the sheets to see the victim’s body. He motioned the commissioner over to the body with his index finger. The commissioner took one look at the body, and wasn’t surprised by what he saw.

‘’Yet another young Hispanic theme park employee to have their throat slashed,’‘ said the commissioner.



***

I watched from the shadows as various patrol cars pulled up at the entrance of Busch Gardens. They busted through the entrance as they walked over to the young Hispanic female employee who was attacked. She was in shock as she grasped her throat, trying to catch a breath, a few paramedics were there to help her calm down.

‘’What happened here?’‘ asked one of the police officers.

‘’This old man tried to hold me down and cut my throat, but he took off when someone saw what happened.’‘ answered the woman.

‘’Did you get a good look at the guy?’‘ asked a sketch artist.

‘’He had gray hair kinda bald , wore big glasses, and looked short and fat.’‘ she replied.

The woman glanced at me, and I ran so no one else would see me. The police officers looked very suspicious, and the woman seemed frightened. They just kept staring at me and staring at me. I felt as if I was in an episode of The Fugitive or something.

‘’It’s him! It’s him! It’s him!’‘ the woman shouted.

The police chased me all over the park, all throughout the animal exhibits I was grabbed, restrained, and shoved to the ground by the various police officers. And to add to all the humiliation I was handcuffed, they caught me. I can’t believe they caught me.

‘’You have the right to remain silent, anything you say or do will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, the state of Florida will appoint one for you free of charge if you wish.’‘ said one of the police officers.

I’ve been charged with one count of attempted murder which I will put on trial for here in a Hillsborough County, Florida court. I’ll then be transferred to Orange County, Florida where I’ll go before the judge with the charge of three counts of first degree murder. I’m a senior citizen who is a veteran of this nation’s armed forces. I married beautiful woman who I married, and our marriage produced wonderful children and grandchildren.


I owned and operated a small business for over 40 years which I sold because of health problems, we then retired to Florida where we still needed to pay the bills on our new home. So I took a part time job at one of the theme parks, but I and many other hard working employees were fired to make room for the Hispanics who were coming in because the theme park was required by law to grant employment to minority groups. I tried to get jobs at the other theme parks, but kept getting passed over by – you guessed it– those damn Mexicans! I got so furious that I got the urge to kill them, and here we are. I hope you have enjoyed these confessions of a serial killer – or should I say a hard working American citizen who was driven crazy by a bunch of wetbacks!

The Division Bell

When I saw the sunrise, I knew it wasn’t the same sun which rose over slavery and The Civil War or even the same sun which rose over segregation and Civil Rights. It was a brand new sunrise, shining over a brand new South. This South was more a more integrated South where fellow Southerners had moved to other parts of the United States, and outsiders from those same places had moved here.

I had relatives from both inside and outside The South, they still brag about their old Southern culture, and bitch about how these Yankees from the outside came in and destroyed their way of life. Those same relatives are still upset over those in laws who brought corporate takeovers and The Internet to The South.

***

Ted Heyman finished typing in his blog on the computer, headed out the door, and walked up a few blocks until he came upon the railroad tracks. On one side, there was the downtown area which was the last remnant of the old Southern town known as Fairview with a bunch of rundown buildings which house various struggling small businesses. The other side had various skyscrapers and towers that make part of Fairview a hotspot for corporate America. He took a shortcut through the downtown district to an old Southern mansion. It belonged to his maternal grandmother, Grandma Cornette. As he walked in, he spotted a holiday feast in the dining room with turkey and all the trimmings.

***

‘’Hi honey, so glad you could come’‘, said Grandma Cornette.

‘’Hi’‘, I said

I spotted my parents, Peter and Teresa Heyman, we all hugged and sat down at the table. The table was divided as The Heymans sat on one end and The Cornettes sat on the other. Food began to be served, and everyone seemed happy.

‘’How’s that blog of yours goin’?’‘Dad asked.

‘’Fine’‘, I answered .

‘’What the hell’s a blog?’‘ asked my uncle, Jack Cornette.

‘’It’s a record of thoughts and events on the internet through your point of view’‘, I responded.

‘’That god damn internet! I’m so sick of hearin’ about that god damn internet! Why the hell do so many people need computers anyway?’‘ asked Jack.

‘’They need them to work you narrow minded dumbass!’‘ said Dad.

‘’We use to work with our hands long before you brought all those fancy corporations, computers, and internet crap that wiped out good decent hard work, and gave people an excuse to be lazy and sit on their ass!’‘ shouted Jack.

‘’Oh, don’t give me any of that self-righteous Waltons and Little House on The Prairie bullshit! You need to take your outdated Southern morals and values, and shove them up your ass because no one gives a shit anymore!’‘ Dad shouted back.

Jack knocked the shit out of my father! Everyone just stood there shocked at what just happened. Dad got up, grabbed Jack by the throat, and throttled him up against the wall. The two exchanged blows right in front of everyone, they even crash through Grandma Cornette’s dinner table.

After the holiday feast, I got back on my computer at home, and noticed there was a response to my blog. It was from guy named Mark Cornette, the same name as my cousin who moved to New York several years ago, and was also Jack’s grandson. This Mark Cornette mentioned having a cousin in a small Southern town called Fairview named Ted Heyman, and wondered if I was the same one. He also mentioned his mother was in love with someone named Eddie Heyman, and he asked if he was related to me. He mentioned Eddie’s relatives weren’t too happy with him being in love with a southern gal.

I replied to his message that I was indeed the same Ted Heyman from Fairview, and that Eddie was my Dad’s brother. I also invited them to come to Fairview for a visit, knowing that another Heyman-Cornette relationship would piss Jack off since his daughter was now with a Heyman.

We all waited at the airport for Mark and his mother, Nancy. However, I didn’t them Eddie was coming with them. The three of them came through the entrance, and every seemed so happy. Jack walked up to Nancy, and gave her a big hug!

‘’There’s my baby girl!’‘, he said.

‘’Hi Daddy’‘, she replied.

‘’Everyone, this is my boyfriend Eddie’‘, she said.

‘’Peter, is that you?’‘ Eddie asked.

‘’Oh my god!’‘ shouted my Dad.

My Dad ran over to hug Eddie, and Jack’s face turned red. He wasn’t aware Eddie was a Heyman just yet, and I’m sure he didn’t wanna know. If he found out, he might have a heart attack, it was the kinda person he was. He hated those so called ‘’Yankees’‘ more than anything else on earth.

‘’You two know each other?’‘ asked Jack.

‘’He’s my brother!’‘ exclaimed Peter.

‘’Your sleeping with one of THEM?’‘ screamed Jack.

‘’One of who Daddy? Why are you so upset?’‘ asked Nancy.

‘’One of those damn Heymans! Those Yankees from up north have destroyed EVERYTHING down here!’‘

‘’Oh god Daddy, not again!’‘ Nancy sighed.

‘’Look, don’t expect us to put up with this North-South, Heyman-Cornette crap, like you made Peter and Teresa do!’‘.

‘’You see here!’‘ commanded Jack.

‘’Don’t shove that Daddy’s girl crap down my throat either!’‘ said Nancy

‘’If General Robert E. Lee here doesn’t mind, we’ll go check into a hotel’‘. said Eddie

‘’Oh don’t be ridiculous, you can stay with us!’‘ said my mother.

One night, my uncle Jack worked the graveyard shift in his office at the local newspaper. He edited and proofread a feature article with a pen and some paper handy when he heard footsteps in the halls, the sound got louder and louder, and he got up and went to the doorway to check it out.

‘’Hello, anyone there?’‘ he asked.

All of a sudden, a dark figure shot him in the stomach with a handgun. He clutched the bullet wound, and his hand became drenched in blood. He collapsed onto the floor as the assailant walked off. Jack was too injured to get up, and go after the individual. He lay there as blood continued to pour out of his stomach.

We all went to visit Jack in the hospital, but he didn’t find it very pleasant. The Heymans and The Cornettes were just as divided as they were when we all had dinner at Grandma Cornette’s house. We were all so damn quiet, we all waited for some to just open their damn mouth just to see if someone was gonna start another argument! A police officer also waited to take a statement from Jack about the shooting.

‘’How ya’ feelin’ Daddy?’‘ Nancy asked.

‘’I’d feel better if there weren’t so many god damn Yankees in this room!’‘ Jack responded.

‘’Dad, don’t start. We’re all here because we care about you, and we were so heartbroken and scared when we found out you got shot’‘. Nancy said.

‘’Thanks sweetie.’‘ Jack said.

‘’Mr. Cornette, did you get a good look at the person who shot you?’‘ asked the police officer.

‘’No I couldn’t see who it was because the hallway was so dark, but I bet you it was one of those Heymans!’‘

‘’I’ve heard just about enough of your bullshit Jack! I’m leavin’!’‘ shouted Teresa, his sister.

‘’Hey, let us know when you stop being so paranoid, and realize that The Civil War has been over for almost 150 years!’‘ said her husband Peter.

A few days later, my father Peter Heyman stepped out of the house to get the morning paper, and as he reached down to get it, he felt a sharp pain in his side as a gunshot was fired. The wound became bloody as he lay there helpless, all of a sudden, the dark figure who shot dialed his cell phone.

‘’Vengeance is yours, Mr. Cornette. The South Shall Rise Again.’‘ said the dark figure.

As the dark figure left the scene of the crime, my father writhed on the ground as blood came up from his mouth. He wandered in and out of consciousness as he glanced up at the morning sky thinking he was gonna die.


In time, both my uncle and my father recovered from their injuries. However, I noticed something weird as Fairview’s 4th of July picnic approached. Half the houses in town sported American flags in their front yards while the other half sported Confederate flags. It was now the night of 4th of July picnic, but no one seemed as happy as they were at picnics in previous years. Everyone seemed so distant and quiet. Then I noticed Yankees and red necks each stood in two groups. My father Peter Heyman stood in front of the Yankees while my uncle Jack Cornette stood in front of the red necks.

‘’You and all of this corporate takeover bullshit has destroyed our quiet little town!’‘ shouted Jack.

‘’Please spare the whole population of Fairview of your self-righteous bullshit! We don’t wanna hear it!’‘said my father.

‘’We’re about a second away from kickin’ your corporate asses!’‘ Jack yelled.

‘’Let’s see what you got!’‘ exclaimed Peter.

The red, white, and blue fireworks started up as a marching band played the star spangled banner, but instead of celebrating, everyone was too busy trying to kill each other. People were getting shot and stabbed left and right. Yankees and red necks were on the ground, covered in blood, and dying while a good number of both sides still fought for their lives. It was The Civil War all over again! All of a sudden, a trumpet sounded, and a bolt of lightning struck so bright and so loud, it almost woke the dead. The sky split open as a beacon of shone through, half the people there ascended into the heavens as they hugged and seemed at peace with one another. The ground also split apart as flames shot up from an underground pit. The other half left behind tried to struggle for their lives, but they all fell into the pit screaming in pain.

This will be my final blog entry, the last judgement has been placed on The South by the Yankees from up North. Those good on the right have inherited the kingdom which has prepared them for the world. While those evil on the left have departed into an everlasting fire which has prepared them for the wicked demons who shall torment them in the heart of darkness.

***

Ted Heyman finished typing in his blog on the computer, and folded down his laptop. He got up from his chair, and walked over to his right. He stood at the gates of heaven as he clothes turned white before turning left to head over to the flames of hell where his clothes turned black. His clothes turned grey as he came to a neutral midpoint between the two domains where he saw a throne. Ted climbed up the steps, and sat on the throne, as he had control over both heaven and hell. He was both God and The Devil.