The Humanity (2)

Right Now

“Did you just compare my novel to my breakup tactics? Oh, hey, it is snowing.”

“Don’t you ever check the weather, Paul? The news called for a light dusting. Do you try to avoid putting footprints in fresh snow, or do you make as many as you can?”

“I like to enjoy the pureness of fresh snow for a moment then trample it to hell. Why?

“I always get sad when people walk all over a clean sheet of snow.”

“Yeah, whatever. Dan, there is something I need to tell you. It’s kind of a serious matter. It’s about Thompson.”

“Okay? I’m not sure if I like the way this conversation is going, but by all means, continue.”

“Well, I don’t know how to phrase it gently, so I will just throw it out there. Thompson is a dinosaur from the future. Or the past, by way of the future, or something confusing like that.”

“Paul, you are so retarded. This is why you had me meet you here? To tell me your friend is a dinosaur from the future? This has now become the single dumbest thing you have ever said to me. I don’t understand how this is supposed to be funny.”

“Dan, I am dead serious. He came to me three years ago and told me this story and I didn’t want to believe it but he was a talking dinosaur, so I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“Have a choice in what?”

“Joining his revolutionary army.”

“Are you high?”

“No, and I wasn’t when I met him, either.”

“You’re so high right now.”

“No, I swear I’m not. This is really important, Dan. Please listen to me!”

“Dude, this is the lamest joke you have ever come up with. It’s not even a joke!”

“Please, just hear me out.”

“All right, fine. I’ll play along, for your sake. Lay it on me.”

“Ok, so I met Thompson three years ago tonight. I was taking the trash out to the dumpster when I heard a voice in my head telling me to turn around, so I did and holy shit! There was a fucking Tyrannosaurus Rex in my backyard! I start to freak out but the voice is telling me ‘be cool’ and long story short he tells me this: his name is Thompson. He is a T.rex from the past who was sent to the future in a time machine built by this guy Emmett and in this future other dinosaurs, who were also sent to the future, function as slaves for humanity. So Thompson gets pissed and starts an underground revolution and steals the time machine with a plan to go back in time and stomp on this guy Emmett before he can invent the time machine in the first place, only Thompson can’t operate the machine properly with his tiny T.rex arms and essentially crash lands in my backyard. He then tells me that before he left the future he instructed his lieutenant in the underground dino resistance to send all of their forces back in time to stomp mankind out of existence if he is unsuccessful. Which brings us to tonight. Thompson made it to the right time, but the machine crashed in the wrong place, and he has been unable to either locate this guy Emmett or return to the future, and as a result the dino-contingency-plan-future-force has arrived, tonight, to begin the worldwide elimination of the human race tomorrow.”

“Ok then, I have just a few questions. First, how did Thompson learn to communicate telepathically? I mean, I’m assuming that’s what you meant, right?”

“Yeah. Turns out that is how all dinosaurs communicated back in the day.”

“Ok. Second, why don’t the dinosaurs stage their revolution in the future?”

“Because by that time humans have weapons powerful enough to keep them in check.”

“And they don’t have weapons powerful enough to do that now? What about tanks and fighter planes and shit?”

“I guess not. Have you ever seen a dinosaur in person? They are damn imposing.”

“Ok. Third, how did all these dinosaurs get to the future?”

“After the success with Thompson, time machines become widespread and are used to harvest dinosaurs from the past.”

“You are so high.”

“God damn it, Dan, were you even listening?”

“Yes, Paul, I was. You were talking about dinosaurs from the future for a solid two minutes. Everybody in this whole place was looking at you like you were coked out of your skull.”

“Well they can all go straight to hell, and probably will tomorrow. Most of them, anyway.”

“You can stop now, man. The joke is over, you just sound crazy.”

“Very well. If you don’t want to believe me, that’s your prerogative. But do me just one favor, before you leave and dismiss this whole conversation.”

“Ok, what is it?”

“Turn around, Dan, look out the window and down the alley and tell me what you see.”

“Whatever. I see snow falling and a dumpster and some sort of pipe with steam coming out of it. You happy now?”

“Look again.”

“Jesus, Paul. I really don’t know why I put up with you some--oh shit...”



Tomorrow

“What’s wrong with JT? Are you saying you don’t like JT? How could you not like JT?”

“He’s not that great, really. What is so hard to understand about that?”

“Dude, he’s fucking bringing sexy back!”

“That doesn’t make any sense! Where did sexy go? What makes him so special that he has to be the one to bring it back? Was there something on the last ballot that I missed? No one elected him to bring back sexy.”

“Yeah, that’s right. No one elected him because he took charge of the situation! You didn’t even know sexy was gone, but JT did, and I’ll be damned if he didn’t go out there and make shit happen to bring it back.”

“He didn’t, though. Listen to the lyrics man, he’s saying ‘I’m bringing sexy back’ not ‘I’ve brought sexy back.’ He probably hasn’t even found it yet! ‘I’m bringing sexy back’ my ass, it’s more like ‘I am going to go look for sexy and though I haven’t quite found it yet when I do I will be sure to bring it back for all of you, if I can.’ If it were me I’d wait until I had sexy before announcing I was bringing it back and even then I’d say ‘I brought sexy back, bitches’ or something like that.”

“Oh, he found sexy, Dan. He found sexy. See, the song is merely the vehicle he is bringing ‘the sexy’ back in. The lyrics are more like an announcement, like ‘hey kids I’ve traveled far and wide and behold: I have found sexy and will henceforth be bringing it back for you all to enjoy in this awesome song.’ Perhaps it would help if there was a colon, ‘I’m bringing sexy back:’ and then the music completes the sentence.”

“But all the music was done by Timbaland.”

“Well, maybe Timbaland was the pilot of JT’s sexy-seeking spaceship. JT was the commander who gave instructions and shit and all Timbaland did was steer the ship in the right direction.”

“Like Darth Vader does in Empire when they are chasing the Falcon through the asteroid belt and all the captains don’t want to follow but Vader steps in and sets them straight.”

“Yes! Apology accepted, Captain Needa. Damn, Dan, you are finally starting to come around.”

“You know who should bring sexy back? Darth Vader. Darth Vader should bring sexy back. He gets my vote.”

“Luke, I am bringing sexy back. Search your feelings, you know it is true.”

“Your Vader impersonation needs some work, Paul.”

“Whatever.”

“Seriously though, it doesn’t bother you that we are about to ride down into the city and start the end of mankind?”

“Nah. I doubt they’ll actually exterminate every human, just enough to get their point across. And I imagine that will happen pretty quickly. Why, does it bother you?”

“A little, maybe. Shit, I don’t know, I guess it’s better being up here than down there, on the other end of it.”

Dan squinted his brown eyes as the sun crept over the horizon, its orange light spreading over the frosted buildings of downtown Buffalo, NY at a soothing pace. Early risers were out scraping windshields and bringing in the morning paper while coffee was being brewed inside. Steam rose from the exhaust pipes of the countless cars fighting traffic on the freeway. As the sunlight crept up to the crest of the tallest hill in City Park a lone figure stood at the apex of the hill and let out a tremendous roar. On its back rode two humans.
One of them spoke through a loudspeaker: “ONWARD BROTHERS AND SISTERS, TODAY WE MARCH AGAINST OPPRESSION! TODAY WE MARCH AGAINST SLAVERY! TODAY WE MARCH FOR FREEDOM! ONWARD BROTHERS! ONWARD SISTERS! ONWARD REVOLUTIONARY DINOSAUR ARMY! ONWARD TO VICTORY! HURRAH! HURRAH! THE TIME IS NOW! HURRAH! HURRAH! ONWARD TO GLORY!” From behind the hill came a deafening rumble as a host of dinosaurs, big and small, stormed up and over the crest and down towards the city.

Ms. Wallace’s third grade class had been planning to go to the natural history museum since the beginning of the school year, and the excitement could bee seen on her students’ faces. One of them in particular, a young boy named Zach, had been looking forward to the prehistoric insect exhibit. No sooner than they had entered the main doors, Zach broke free from the single file line and ran up to the giant statue that greets visitors in the atrium.

“Whoa, lookit this guy, Ms. Wallace! A stegosaurus! Lookit! He looks mean but he only eats vegetab--” Before the word could leave his mouth the seemingly inanimate stegosaurus roared to life, leaping off of the display and sweeping her spiked tail in a violent arch. The tail struck Zach midway through its trajectory and the little boy made a quick shriek as one of the spikes was driven through his torso. Terror filled the air and mingled with the screams of museum goers as the stegosaur turned around and charged into the panicked group of third graders. Those who were not stomped or crushed under the dinosaur's massive feet were sent flying through Plexiglas windows and into the gift shop when the beast spun around to swing its deadly tail again. Satisfied with the havoc she had wrought, the stegosaurus charged out the front entrance of the museum, rejoining her comrades on the street. Back inside, Ms. Wallace had managed to survive the initial onslaught by cowering under the ticket counter and was frantically trying to locate her students. She crawled out from underneath the ticket counter and tried to stand up. Her left knee made a wet pop and she fell to the ground, the pain surging through her leg a brutal reminder of her days as a downhill skier and the surgically repaired ACL that never quite healed right. She crawled on her hands and good knee across the room, paddling her way through the broken glass that covered the floor. Several feet away she saw a red tennis shoe poking out from behind an overturned garbage can.
“Jenny!” she cried out, recognizing the shoe usually worn by little Jennifer McCloud. With renewed energy Ms. Wallace crawled towards the shoe, ignoring the shards of glass embedded in her hands. “Jenny, hold on!”
Ms. Wallace pushed the garbage can to the side and felt her stomach lurch up into her throat. There, drowning in a pool of blood, was little Jenny McCloud’s red tennis shoe, and most of her left leg up to the knee.

Back on top of the hill where it all started, the two humans were still on the back of the colossal tyrannosaurus.

“I should probably go get Mia.”

“Yes Paul, you should. You should probably go pretty soon, too. Like, right now.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Damn right I’m right.”

“I never broke up with her, you know. I mean a second time. I couldn’t do it. I guess it was her and not the scrambled eggs I wanted.”

“I know. Now c’mon buddy, let’s do this.”

“I’m glad you came around, Dan. It is good to have you with us.”

“Really, what was I going to do? Turn down the opportunity to ride into battle on the back of a T.rex? Come on, this is some total Kevin Costner Braveheart shit!”

--Braveheart was Mel Gibson, genius.--

“Dammit, Thompson, why do you have to be like that?”

The Humanity (1)

Can't believe I haven't posted this yet. Spent a good part of 2007 working on it. Interesting to see how the things I used to be psyched on have fallen to the side. I think it is important to note that all the characters (especially the school children) are from my elementary school days.

Two Days Ago

“A fox hat?”

“Yeah, a fox hat.”

“Like, a ‘coon skin hat? Like Davey Crockett and shit?”

“No, Dan, a fox hat, like a hat, that is a fox.”

“Oh, of course. Why should I put a dead fox on my head?”

“No, not dead, the fox has to be alive.”

“What? Paul, how the fuck would that work?”

“Don’t get angry, Dan.”

“I’m not angry, Paul.”

“If you’re not angry why, then, did you raise your voice?”

“I didn’t raise my voice in anger. I was just emphasizing my curiosity.”

“Why did you curse, then?”

“Paul, the hat.”

“Right. It’s a fox hat.”

“Yes I know, but how are you going to make a live fox into a hat?”

“Well, you put the fox on your head, and there is a chin strap, yeah, and maybe the chin strap is extendable so you can use it as a leash to keep the little guy from running away when you take the hat off or go inside and have to leave him tied to a bike rack.”

“Yeah, but then you’d have a live, angry fox strapped to your head. What’s to keep--”

“He wouldn’t be angry.”

“Why not? I’d be pretty angry if I were strapped to your head. What’s stopping me, or the fox, from scratching your eyes out?”

“Dan, if you were strapped to my head I wouldn't be able to stand up or do much of anything. That’s pretty dumb. How would I wear you, anyway? Folded over at the waist? Or would I sort of drape you around my shoulders, like a scarf.”

“Dude. The fox. The fox would scratch and bite you to shit, man.”

“No, the fox would be trained.”

“Right. You’d train the fox. Is this before or after you attached the chin strap?”

“Before. But the fox wouldn’t be angry. He’d be happy.”

“I am a fox. I am on your head. I am not happy.”

“Sure you are. That heat escaping my body through my head is keeping your belly warm. I’ve never been unhappy when my belly was warm. Plus, I’d be carrying you around to all these cool places, like coffee shops and pedestrian malls.”

“I imagine you would not be happy, despite your belly being warm, when you are stuck on some guy’s melon.”

“Unlikely.”

“All right, Paul, fox happiness aside, what keeps the fox from freaking out when you eat? I mean, say you go out to dinner and it’s a nice night so you decide to sit on the patio, but the air is a little crisp so you keep your fox hat on. Your meal comes and every time you go to take a bite of your lasagna the fox scratches you in the mouth and knocks your fork to the ground. What then?”

“Well, I think you are ignoring a critical issue here: the bond between fox and man. There is a symbiotic relationship here! Can’t you see? Jesus man, you must respect the fox! After all, he is the one allowing you to wear him as though he were a hat, is he not? Your scenario is deeply flawed. Observe: since I see my fox as an equal, I would kindly remove him from my head and attach his leash to my chair before eating my meal. “

“But it’s cold out, remember? You can’t take him off.”

“Dan, I’d just give him a few bites of my lasagna then.”

“Okay, but you say that you respect the fox and share a symbiotic relationship with it, even though parasitic is a much more appropriate term, but why is it that the fox is the one strapped to your head? Why is it that it is the fox that you leash to your chair? If you truly respected the fox, why would you condemn it to a life of domestication? Why would you confine its world to wherever you took it on your head? Even if it is a pedestrian mall!”


Ten Minutes Ago

“Dude, where were you last night? Mia’s party was really cool. She was wondering why you didn’t go.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot. I was hanging out with Thompson. We went to one of those arty theaters where they play classic movies on the weekends. Saw Army of Darkness and Aliens back to back. It was sick. Was she pissed?”

“Yeah, Paul, she was pissed. You know, you rally need to do something about this situation. You could have--how long have you been here?”

“About half an hour, why?”

“How many cups of coffee have you had?”

“Five. Six. No, five.”

“Shit, Paul, being around you and coffee is like being super-glued to a five-year-old.”

“Whatever.”

“Do you remember that goddamned fox hat conversation? That was the most retarded thing I have ever been a part of.”

“What was wrong with the fox hat, Dan? Where did all this animosity come from? Oh, I get it, you are just jealous you didn’t come up with it first.”

“I swear I will leave. I will get up and walk out of here so fast.”

“Okay, okay, relax. Do you want to order something?”

“No, I’m fine. Anyway, you really have to work things out with Mia, she’s getting on my nerves about you getting on hers.”

“I’m gonna get a piece of pie. Where the hell is the waitress?”

“Could you please talk to her?”

“I still don’t understand what she’s so upset about. Dammit, I want some cherry pie, where is the waitress?”



One Week Ago

“If you want out, why don’t you just tell her?”

“I tried.”

“How’d it go?”

“Well, Dan, it was like watching the Hindenburg go down. Everything started off so well, then KA-BLAM, the tears started and a voice was screaming ‘OH, THE HUMANITY!’ in my head.”

“Yeah, then what?”

“She cried enough that her tears could have probably put the Hindenburg fire out, and I kinda backed off the topic and apologized.”

“You aren’t scared of her, are you?”

“No, I’m not. Well, maybe, just a little bit.”

“That’s just great, Paul. You realize that you’ve just dug your hole about a hundred times deeper, right?”

“I know, I know. It’s just, she’s a great girl. I mean, she made me breakfast and brought it to me in bed this morning. Toast, orange juice, bacon, eggs. Eggs man, she scrambled eggs for me. I love scrambled eggs.”

“So do you love her, or do you love scrambled eggs?”

“I love her, bringing me scrambled eggs.”

“Jesus, Paul. You know--shit. Pretend that other women would be willing to bring you eggs. Now ask yourself: is it her bringing your eggs, or just any girl bringing your lazy ass eggs?”

“You’re right, Dan, I know, but what am I supposed to do, apologize for apologizing for pretending to break up with her in the first place, then really break up with her.”

“Uhh, I’m not sure what all of that meant, but I think it meant ‘I’m going to tell her, again, and this time I am going to be serious,’ though I could be mistaken. ”

“Yeah, something like that. Ok, I’ll do it.”

“Good. What are you going to tell her?”

“Huh?”

“What are you going to say? Like, how are you going to break the news? You have to have a plan, otherwise you’ll break down as soon as the first tear is shed, again.”

“Oh, I’m not going to tell her anything.”

“What?”

“No man, I was just going to make her break up with me.”

“And how were you planning on doing that?”

“You know, I was just going to be so emotionally unavailable and cruel that she will be driven away and will eventually come to the conclusion that I am no longer the man for her and will then break up with me.”

“You are such an asshole.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Shit, I’ll just tell her that I made a mistake the first time, and that this time is for real.”

“You’ve got to come up with something better than that, Paul. I’ll kick your ass myself if that’s what you tell her”

“Come on, Dan, I need some support. This is kind of a big issue, is it not? I was talking to Thompson about it last night and he said--”

“I don’t give a shit what Thompson said! I don’t even know Thompson! But I do know you, man, and I know Mia, and you owe her some respect.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Damn right I’m right.”

“Can we talk about something else now? People are looking at us like we should be at a knitting circle or something.”

“Paul, I have no idea what that means.”


Five Minutes Ago

“Thanks. Oh, and can I get another cup of coffee? Excellent. All right, so I probably haven’t handled this so well, but what do you expect? I’m not in some Hugh Grant movie, man.”

“What the hell does that mean? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Hugh Grant movie.”

“Yeah, you have, Dan. You remember the really shitty Batman movie? The one where the Batsuit had nipples? That was him.”

“That was George Clooney, you ass. And the Batsuit had nipples when Val Kilmer was Batman too, and that movie didn’t completely suck. Your suit-nipple suck-factor hypothesis is fundamentally flawed.”

“The Batsuit is not the issue here, dude. Can we please stay on topic?”

“I’m sorry, have we somehow stumbled into an alternate universe where my mind is in your body and your mind is in mine or something? Did you just ask if we could keep this conversation on topic?”

“I have no idea what you just said. Look, the point is this: I messed up. I should have held my ground and ended it then, but I didn’t I’ve already had this talk with Thompson and he thinks that ”

“Well, good for Thompson. I’m glad to know that he is replacing me as your best friend. Why don’t you just hang out here with him all the time?”

“Thompson doesn’t like going out.”

“Ok then. At any rate, you are just making things worse. Now you have to break up with her again, and she is probably going to hate you forever, instead of hating you for most of your life.”

“Okay, Dan. I’ll admit it, I made a very poor decision. Top five for sure.”

“Right behind the novel.”

Three Years Ago

“Your novel is really bad, Paul.”

“What? My novel is really awesome, Dan. What didn’t you like about it?”

“What is there to like? There’s no setting, no character development, no conflict, no resolution, there isn’t even a plot. It’s just two guys talking to each other.”

“Yeah?”

“There is nothing to it. Why should I bother to read it if I get nothing out of it?”

“It was funny, was it not?”

“There were moments, Paul, there were moments.”

“Damn right there were moments. My friend Thompson thinks it is awesome. He said he’d buy the movie rights, if he had the chance.”

“Who is Thompson?”

“Oh, he’s, uhh, this guy I met a few weeks ago. He’s pretty cool. He’s from out of town.”

“Really? Where is out of town for him?”

“Um, I dunno. Far away, I’m guessing.”

“Well, wherever he is from, he has a horrible taste in literature.”