Post by Jack of Blades on Jun 14, 2006 11:13:37 GMT -5
(The camera opens up on a generic restaurant where blue-bloused women mill probably named Doris, mill about in the background. Pencils lodged over the ear. Ready to take any order over the blue jazz and opening entries of rock 'n' roll deriving from the neon, pine-fashioned Juke Box. That was the gimmick of the diner. A temporal domain that permeated the force of time and appeared here and constant. A replica of 1950s Americana promoting the epoch of hair gel and motorbikes. The clinical white clashed with the ultramarine blue causing any degree of dirt to be magnified through simple contrast of hues. And here, in this carnival cafe lies the Bastard Clown trying to force down some saturated chicken soup.)
Barbara: Anything else?
(The Bastard Clown, as only the Bastard Clown can do, looked through his draped long hair creating a parting with his nose before flashing her the same old smile with the same old teeth. It gave the same impression it always did. To Barbara this was simply some crazy who had wondered in off the street although his Armani suit lent a different impression. Resigning him to his madness, she lifted the fifth appendage that is the coffee pot and moved off before reconciling her vision on a notepad and pencil placed by the side of the Bastard Clown's dish.)
Barbara: Work there, sweetheart?
(Her chubby palm ruffles the notepad as she clutches to pick it up only for a metal trident to add extra pressure as it rips through the leathered flesh of her hand. Blood drips down her digits as she whines and flinches upwards seeking that Bastard Clown holding the fork. A swift movement later and she breaks free from the cutlery-cum-weapon causing the fat of her arm to wobble as she runs behind the counter to inform her manager. She left the coffee. The Bastard Clown uses this opportunity to look through his blood-stained notes.)
Jack of Blades: Barbara, Barbara, Barbara. Born Barbara Elizabeth Jacobs to Roseline Martin and Randy Jacobs. Left high school at 15 after her parents forced her to receive an abortion due to one simple night under the cherry bush. Had an interest in horses but when her local stables closed she lost interest. Married Mark Maurice on the Seventeenth of July thirty four years ago. Eleven years later gave birth to Jessica Maurice, her one and only child that was not flushed from the womb. Jessica left at age nineteen to pursue a career in acting. Returned to two months earlier from this current point in time suffering from an anorexia and out of pocket. Paid her a visit.
(Jack's audible train of thought was broken by the splutters of the manager as if to encourage Jack's leaving. And with a simple flick of the Bastard Clown's wrist, he coughs are replaced with grunts as the tan coffee is driven into his face. A few patrons move from their stools as if to support the manager's sentiments when he cannot but the Bastard Clown sighs and takes his leave lowering the hidden scalpul from the cusp of his dinner jacket. The sign of a perfect surgeon. He had learnt the utilization of cutting from someone long gone. The opportunity behind his namesake. Blades. She had used blades to bring whatever smile she could manage. He was going to use it to share his smile. What an opportunity. Bigger than the opportunity than his four opponents and Slam will have. The blade was clean where his muse had left it dirtied as an example. The smile formed as he cut through the flesh and shapped it. Jessica's flesh had been formed, Jack chuckled to himself as he left the cafe to the bemusement and tuts of concerned patrons. And Barbara would learn this as her bandaged hand opened the door to her daughter's makeshift bedroom to find her tied to the bed corner supporting a 'New Jack' smile.)
Jack of Blades: I'll dig with it.
Barbara: Anything else?
(The Bastard Clown, as only the Bastard Clown can do, looked through his draped long hair creating a parting with his nose before flashing her the same old smile with the same old teeth. It gave the same impression it always did. To Barbara this was simply some crazy who had wondered in off the street although his Armani suit lent a different impression. Resigning him to his madness, she lifted the fifth appendage that is the coffee pot and moved off before reconciling her vision on a notepad and pencil placed by the side of the Bastard Clown's dish.)
Barbara: Work there, sweetheart?
(Her chubby palm ruffles the notepad as she clutches to pick it up only for a metal trident to add extra pressure as it rips through the leathered flesh of her hand. Blood drips down her digits as she whines and flinches upwards seeking that Bastard Clown holding the fork. A swift movement later and she breaks free from the cutlery-cum-weapon causing the fat of her arm to wobble as she runs behind the counter to inform her manager. She left the coffee. The Bastard Clown uses this opportunity to look through his blood-stained notes.)
Jack of Blades: Barbara, Barbara, Barbara. Born Barbara Elizabeth Jacobs to Roseline Martin and Randy Jacobs. Left high school at 15 after her parents forced her to receive an abortion due to one simple night under the cherry bush. Had an interest in horses but when her local stables closed she lost interest. Married Mark Maurice on the Seventeenth of July thirty four years ago. Eleven years later gave birth to Jessica Maurice, her one and only child that was not flushed from the womb. Jessica left at age nineteen to pursue a career in acting. Returned to two months earlier from this current point in time suffering from an anorexia and out of pocket. Paid her a visit.
(Jack's audible train of thought was broken by the splutters of the manager as if to encourage Jack's leaving. And with a simple flick of the Bastard Clown's wrist, he coughs are replaced with grunts as the tan coffee is driven into his face. A few patrons move from their stools as if to support the manager's sentiments when he cannot but the Bastard Clown sighs and takes his leave lowering the hidden scalpul from the cusp of his dinner jacket. The sign of a perfect surgeon. He had learnt the utilization of cutting from someone long gone. The opportunity behind his namesake. Blades. She had used blades to bring whatever smile she could manage. He was going to use it to share his smile. What an opportunity. Bigger than the opportunity than his four opponents and Slam will have. The blade was clean where his muse had left it dirtied as an example. The smile formed as he cut through the flesh and shapped it. Jessica's flesh had been formed, Jack chuckled to himself as he left the cafe to the bemusement and tuts of concerned patrons. And Barbara would learn this as her bandaged hand opened the door to her daughter's makeshift bedroom to find her tied to the bed corner supporting a 'New Jack' smile.)
Jack of Blades: I'll dig with it.
